Children Of The Revolution

The Saturday after being de-flowered by my gracious and gentle lover Frank, after the Bowie gig, I was still on cloud nine. I was still a little confused and in self-denial regarding my sexuality. Buoyed by the still beautiful weather and my newly found sense of confidence, I visited a local church fete that was selling second hand items. I had hoped to add to my wardrobe. On entering the hall however, I found it held very disappointing prospects regarding finding any bargains, or anything worth buying for that matter.

I did recognise a familiar face across the hall though. Selling old books and pamphlets was Margaret, a young lady who attended a nearby convent school, and who often shyly smiled at me when she boarded the same bus as me on the way home from school. An added bonus was that her mother knew my mother, and they were both helpers at our local church.

Still feeling confident in these new surroundings I plucked up the courage to approach Margaret. Margaret was thrilled to be able to say she knew somebody who had seen Bowie live. She was so envious.

I regaled Margaret with exaggerated tales of Bowie’s superfluous performance and how it seemed he was performing just for me.

Before long I had been invited to her house that evening to listen to some records after her parents had gone out to visit their local church social club (probably with my parents too).

I excitedly arrived at Margaret’s house at 8 pm exactly. I had thoughtfully brought some records with me. This turned out to be a waste of time altogether as she had a copy of every single record I had brought along with me. I dutifully made small talk with Margaret’s parents and answered their questions about exam subjects, grades and future ambitions. I could only empathetically shrug when Margaret’s dad said he didn’t understand today’s teenagers or their musical tastes.

As I sat waiting for Margaret’s parents to leave for the evening, I ruminated about what I was letting myself in for. A pattern seemed to be visibly emerging. Margaret was just over 2 years older than me. About to start her senior year at school she was much more experienced than me. Thankfully, she wasn’t taller than me – she was just the same height!

Eventually the door closed behind Margaret’s parents. With an easy nonchalance we both headed for Margaret’s bedroom and the record player. Roxy Music was the direction our listening took us initially. Feigning excessive heat, which to some extent was quite overpowering, Margaret felt the need to somewhat disrobe leaving on a paper thin long skirt (very fashionable at the time) and a thin vest holding together her ample bosoms.

Less than halfway through the first Roxy track, and the weariness brought about by the heat, saw us sprawling on the bed. This led to inevitable kissing, sucking and fondling. Margaret was just as dextrous as Frank had been. Within moments my stiff cock being aired, similar results ensued. 5 or 6 strokes of a quite fast and vigorous nature from the nimble fingers of Margaret had me spurting uncontrollably once again. To be fair to Margaret, she took it all in her stride, managing to both clean me and my issue up with seemingly little or no fuss.

What surprised and delighted me the most, was the speed at which her skirt came off – and she wasn’t wearing pants!!!

The lighting was a little different compared to the previous experience. Margaret’s dad was an electrician and had installed a dimmer switch in her bedroom which allowed Margaret to shine just the right amount of light to ensure the correct ambience. The amount of light Margaret chose to let illuminate proceedings showed off her attributes to their best effect. Just enough to be able to excite me highlighting curvaceous shapes, distinguishing urgent sounds, masking pungent smells, and seemingly allow them to all to merge into the one whole.

Having given me my quick release Margaret quite rightly set about satisfying herself. I was all too eager and willing to be of much assistance as I could be in this process. At first I quite tentatively prodded and inserted a couple of fingers into what was an extremely warm, erotic seemingly cavernous bush of soft brown hair. This didn’t do the job for too long though. Soon Margaret had hold of my fingers and was rapidly frigging herself with my fingers employing quite some ferocity. I was desperately trying to get a sense of what the correct method, speed and technique was for the next time I was presented with a similar opportunity. Margaret expertly brought herself to quite an unselfconscious and loud climax with the help of my inexpert digits. I proudly felt the results of her own issue soaking my fingers.

It was at this moment Margret took my cock into her mouth and started to gently massage me with her tongue. Bowie began singing, “Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth....” serenading me from the record player.

I had never before felt that sensation, and It is something I can honestly say nobody has ever performed as expertly as Margaret did that night. Although I had the pleasure of experiencing Margaret’s technique on a number of subsequent occasions, the first time was will stay with me forever.

The intensity and ferocity that Margaret achieved great satisfaction couldn’t have contrasted any further than with the nimble and soft movement of her mouth on my cock. A growing fervour did eventually expertly bring me to orgasm, of which I can still remember and appreciate to this day. And she swallowed the lot!

We both lay still on the bed for about another 20 minutes or so following our exertions, which also coincided with the need to select another record. Margaret jumped up to do the necessary and opted for some Marc Bolan and T-Rex.

By now Margaret had no clothes on at all. When she returned to the bed, she leaned over to reach into her handbag. In one movement Margaret produced a condom which she expertly removed from its wrapper, slid onto my by now erect again penis, and straddled me.

Whether because of my penchant for quick finishing when roughly set about, or whether Margaret just wanted another sensation, I’m not sure. Margaret slowly rode me. Gasps and moans from Margaret were mixed with my own emanations.

I stretched out to fondle her huge breasts and hard, erect nipples. I felt able and confident enough to subtly slow Margaret’s pace down a little as I felt myself begin to rise towards orgasm. Similar to the previous night I managed a few full body orgasms whilst still remaining erect. Feeling powerful and in control I allowed myself to be guided by the squeals, tremors and heavy breathing of Margaret. I decided it was time to bring myself to a slow climax. Maintaining full penetration, I rolled Margaret onto her back. Starting very slowly, my hips began to thrust in a single movement. The intensity increased little by little as I took Margaret along with me. Pretty soon I was banging as fast and hard as I could, producing wild cries from both myself and Margaret. This soon resulted in the biggest and sustained orgasm in my short career to date. Amidst the exhaustion, sweat, and tears I kissed Margaret on the nose and whispered, “Thank you.”