Ella (Not Her Real Name)

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First time in front of a woman


Ella was a big-boned girl.

'Big-boned.' Most people use the phrase as a euphemism for 'fat.' And it's true, Ella wasn't supermodel-skinny, or even high-school field-hockey-player skinny. But I couldn't describe her as fat: she had none of the wrong proportions of fat people (including, alas, this scribe - at least now - but this all happened many years ago, when I was a skinny kid). Her proportions, in fact, were perfect: breasts like globes, round and gravid, a truly majestic ass, soft and shapely, and between these two mountain ranges a relatively flat land of stomach. Not washboard flat like Nebraska: gentle swelling like Iowa. And her legs - holy R. Crumb, she had legs, big, strong, take-no-prisoners legs.

I met Ella when I was a junior in college. We both attended a Christian college in the Midwest: a Bible school, but fairly well respected academically anyway. This meant we were both raised in the strict denomination that sponsored the school, and had both signed onto the strict moral code that the school enforced as a condition of attendance. How strict? Masturbate and you had to repent; keep it up and you were expelled. And forget about fucking.

We met at a time when we were both starting to question - aw, hell, outgrow - the beliefs that underpinned the education we were getting. We talked a lot about it as our friendship matured. Doubt was a key part of our budding bond. We found ourselves simpatico on most issues touching our faith or lack of it, and furthermore we found that there was basically nobody else to talk to about these issues. Ecclesiastical leaders would have love to talk to us, but only with an eye to straightening us out. We didn't want to be straightened out. We didn't think we were wrong.

You can tell from this that our relationship was intellectual and emotional. We understood and supported each other. We were friends, first and foremost. That wasn't all we were to each other - I'll get to that - but we were always friends. Was there a physical attraction there? Hell, yes, at least on my part, but we were both coming off of difficult breakups, real mindfucks, and I think we were both wary of getting involved again. Friendship, and the other things we could offer each other, was just what we needed.

What else did we offer each other? We found out one night in the dead of winter. We'd been best friends for a few months by this point. The school (which, for all its conservatism, really did try to create an intellectually stimulating environment) had a foreign film series, and as film-freaks in the making we always went. This particular Saturday night the selection was Japanese. I won't name it. But it was racier than the usual offering. At least, the subject was sex. None happened onscreen - it wasn't that kind of movie - but the characters spent a lot of time thinking about it, and discussing it. In a very tasteful way.

This surprised us. We were well-mannered and didn't talk during the film, but I could feel, the way you can feel it when a heavy Missouri summer sky is about to burst into rain, that we were going to have a lot to say about it when it was done.

I could also tell some other things. She was wearing a tight silk shirt, red with buttons down the front. Her clothing was usually sexier, more form-fitting, than the school approved of, but she never crossed any lines with it, and to be fair it wasn't really her fault, given her figure: things just naturally tended to cling to her. It was either accept it or wear tent dresses, and she wouldn't do that.

Anyway, in the midst of one particularly provocative scene - the characters were discussing masturbation - I happened to glance over at Ella and noticed that her nipples were erect, straining against the silk (and whatever else she was wearing). I quickly returned my eyes to the screen, hoping she hadn't noticed. Hoping doubly, because her erections happened to coincide - not cause, but coincide - with mine.

The film ended. We put on our parkas (there was a foot of snow on the ground and it wasn't melting anytime soon) and started the long walk home. We lived in off campus apartments around the corner from each other about a half hour's walk from the building where the film was shown.

For about half the walk we dissected the film from an intellectual standpoint, talking about the cinematography, the direction, the acting - anything but the sex. The closest we got to that was laughing about how the student programmer who'd chosen the film was probably going to get called before some sort of disciplinary board for that one. But eventually, as it always does, sex reared its ugly (pulsing, glistening) head.

'Of all the things this school teaches that I just can't get on board with, that's probably the worst,' Ella said.

'What?' I asked.

'No masturbation. I mean, who can live that? Nobody, that's who.'

Such a flash of heat came over me that I was sure all the snow in the parking lot we were walking through was going to melt. I knew, then and there, that our relationship was at a turning point.

'You think the students here do it? Whack off, I mean?'

'Good lord, Avalonandon, of course they do.'

I didn't know what to say to that.

She continued. 'Don't you?'

I took a deep breath. I hadn't admitted this to anybody in my whole life. I'd never talked about it with friends: my generation of boys didn't admit to choking the chicken, because they thought it meant you were gay (we were idiots in a wide variety of ways. And I certainly didn't talk about it with anyone in my family, because they thought it meant you were possessed by Satan. And at school? Well, this was a first.

'Every goddam motherfucking day.'

She laughed at my uncharacteristically colorful language (this, too, could get you hauled before a school official).

'Of course you do. Every guy does. The pastors do, too, I'd bet good money.'

Now, you've got to understand that in all of our freewheeling, questioning discussions of faith and unbelief, rules and the breaking of them, we'd kept it on a fairly abstract level. We hadn't discussed sex. I think, like I say, we were both afraid of going there, for a million reasons.

But now we talked sex. Still not in a very personal way - I didn't get up the courage to ask the obvious follow-up question until later. But we talked about the simple human impossibility of expecting people not to have sex, not to touch themselves, not to touch each other, the marital problems we'd both seen first-hand growing up because people went into the situation ignorant, or with too much guilt. About how sex had to be, just had to be, a gift from God if there was one, and how, sure, you had to be responsible, but why should you deny it.

It was all carefully phrased in general terms, like I say: after my admission we didn't talk for a while about how these questions affected either of us personally. Which isn't to say that I wasn't turned on by the whole thing. I was, like a motherfucker.

We got back to our neighborhood. It was late, around eleven o'clock. We reached her apartment first. We didn't feel like cutting the conversation short, but she hated my roommates, so she invited me into her place. I said yes. We went inside.

Her apartment was in a half-basement of a house. Low enough that we went downstairs to get to the door, but high enough that there were windows in the very top of the walls. The apartment was dark, and moonlight streamed through the window in the living room, giving the scene a stark, but peaceful, sheen. Ella had one roommate; she peeked into her bedroom, then shut the door.

'Jana's in, but she's asleep.'

'Should I go?'

'No, she can sleep through anything. We can talk out here.'

I went to turn on a light, but she motioned me not to. We sat on the couch under the window. It was nice being in the semidark like that.

'So,' Ella said in a low voice. 'Do you really jerk off every day?'

I swallowed hard.

'Sometimes,' I said. 'Lately I've been trying not to because of what the pastor said in church last month.'

'What did he say? I didn't hear anything.'

'It was in the men's meeting. He just talked about how, you know, self-abuse is wrong, and even though it's natural for healthy young men to have urges, God judges you on how well you control them.'

'You believe that? I'm surprised.'


Silence. We both knew what my hesitation meant. I - we - were both conflicted about a lot of things.

I screwed my courage to the sticking point - very sticky.

'Do you?'

'Do I what?' She smiled. She knew damn well what I meant.

'Do you, you know... I know some girls do it, too.'

'Do I...masturbate?' She emphasized the word lasciviously.


'All girls do. Just as much as guys. Yeah, of course I do. Every goddam motherfucking day, in fact.'

She had no idea, I'm sure, how much this excited me.

Her turn. 'So how long has it been since you spanked your monkey?' she asked.

'Two weeks and a day.' I said. 'And three hours and' (I looked at the clock on the wall) 'twelve minutes.'

She whistled softly. 'You must be getting really antsy. I'm okay, you know. I did it right before we went to the movie.'

I couldn't think of anything clever to say to that. 'Really?' I said, my tongue thick with arousal and confusion.

Ella looked over at me, down at my jeans. The light from the window wasn't falling on us directly, so I'm sure she couldn't tell how rock hard I was. I could just barely make out her form. We'd taken off our parkas when we came inside, so I could see the outline of her breasts, but I couldn't tell if her nipples were still hard.

She spoke next. 'Are you hard right now?'

I didn't hesitate. 'You better believe it.'

'Is it uncomfortable?'

'Sure is,' I admitted.

'Why don't you let it breathe a bit?'

Was she suggesting what I thought she was? I glanced over at her roommate's bedroom door. If Jana walked out and saw us sitting in the dark alone at this time of night she'd be scandalized. If one of us was exposed, no doubt we'd both be expelled.

'She's sound asleep.'

I still hesitated.

'A little air would do it good,' she said, smiling. I could see that much.

'Do you want to see it?' I asked.

'Only if you want to show it to me,' she answered.

I couldn't think anymore, or didn't want to think. I stood up and stepped away from the couch, into the shaft of moonlight. I was wearing black levis and a belt. I undid the belt, unbuttoned the button, and unzipped my fly. I dropped my trousers down to the floor. I pulled down my boxers (red plaid), letting them drop to the floor, too.

My dick is about average size. Nothing to brag about. My balls, though: I'm proud of them. They're fairly large, and my ball sack, when it's fully relaxed, hangs about halfway down my thighs.

Right now that average-sized dick was harder than it had ever been before. It stood ramrod-stiff, pointing out, up, and slightly to the right. It was so hard it was twitching. A pearly drop of ooze was poised at the edge of the eye, just about to start rolling down the shaft. My balls hung there, feeling heavier than they'd ever felt. They shook as my penis twitched, and my penis twitched helplessly. I could feel the air of the room on it, teasing it - the very moonlight seemed to caress it.

I'd never done this before.

She still sat in darkness. I couldn't see the reaction on her face. But I could hear her sharp intake of breath. Then she spoke.


'You like it?'

'I love it. Can I look closer?'


Ella stood up and walked over to me. Careful not to get between the window and my trembling member, she knelt and brought her face close to it. She leaned in until her eyes were only about an inch away.

She gazed at the tip, at the drop of dew. At just that moment a deep-muscle twitch moved my cock, and squeezed out more precum. The droplet began to move, to roll out of the eye and down the head of my dick. When it reached the edge of my glans (I'm circumcised), it paused, and then gravity defeated stickiness, and it started to fall straight downward - in slow motion, like a spider on a glistening thread. She stared at it for about thirty seconds, as it gently made its way to the floor.

She looked down the side of my shaft, at the base. She lowered her head and looked at my balls, every saggy inch of them. Then she backed off, just a little, and settled back into a kneeling position.

The drop had hit the carpet by now, soaking into its fibers, but the silver thread was still intact. She reached out a finger and caught it, severing it neatly.

She licked the finger, her eyes meeting mine as she did so.

'Do you want to jerk off?'

'More than just about anything.'

'Can I watch?'

My mouth was so dry now I could hardly speak.

'Would you please watch?'

'I'll watch.'

What the hell, I thought: I'll ask. 'Can I see your breasts while I do it?'

'It looks like you're ready now. Maybe next time.'

Her dark brown eyes were still looking straight into mine.

Fair enough, I thought.

I reached down and closed my right fist over my cock. Its warmth filled my hand. Her eyes grew wide.

'Pump it,' she said.

I did. Good God almighty, but it felt good. Fifteen days. I'd counted, crossing them off on a calendar. What a futile effort, I thought now. How could I live without this?

But how could I have lived twenty years without this, I then thought: without a beautiful, sexy woman watching me beat off?

I was so aroused, so ready, that I knew I wouldn't last long. I could tell from the frankly fascinated look on her face that she didn't want it to end, and I wanted to hold out as long as I could so I could please her. But talk about futile efforts. I brought myself down from the edge of climax twice, but as I began to shudder I knew this third time would be the charm.

'I'm gonna come.' I gasped.

'Come,' Ella said, and cupped her breasts in her hands. She raised them slightly, those impossibly big and heavy steeds straining against the yoke of her bra (what color was it? the thought flitted across my mind), the barn doors of her shirt. Little gaps opened between the buttons, with a tantalizing hollowness behind.

That was it. My whole body clenched in orgasm, and my jizz shot out in goopy white ropes. I must have let loose two ounces of cum (in a later session we'd measure it, and I could never top an ounce and a half, but this time, I'm sure I did). When I was done it pooled there in opaque pools on her red shirt. She jiggled her tits. The cum jiggled too. Most of it was on her left breast, and some of it now flowed downhill, as it were, toward her buttons. She started moving her breasts up and down, just so, to guide it, until a big slurp of it slithered into the gap between two buttons, to disappear God only knows where.

Then she looked up at me and smiled.

'Feel good?'

I nodded.

'Let me go change shirts.' She stood and walked to her bedroom.

I pulled up my boxers and my jeans and sat down on the couch. It was my hands that were trembling now. I was utterly spent.

A few minutes later Ella came back wearing a college hoodie. She turned on the light, and we played chess until the wee hours of the morning.



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