DEAR MEMORY

By Starlight
Part I

Dear Memory,
Why should I arrange to meet you? You are a distant, shameful figure from my past, my reckless youth. Why should I agree to meet with you? Deceive my husband, my family? My marriage may not be a hotbed of passion, but by our culture's standards, he has been a good husband. I am a respectable married woman. And yet... thinking of you awakens that wicked, wilful girl of my youth and that wild and passionate summer of love. There was pleasure in my wickedness, a passion that my life has lacked ever since you first tempted me from the path of innocence and purity. Attending that party was a treat from grateful parents. My mock exam results had been good, and the summer holidays involved many relaxing of strict rules, and the freedom to mix with girls, western girls of my own age. I had pleaded to be allowed to attend Carol Waterman's party. The assurance of her parent's oversight had let them give me the freedom to remain until midnight. That night I met you… something that my life had not prepared me for. Attentive, witty and with a sharp intelligence that allowed me to open my inner self to you, in a way that I have never found since. You had that funny, lopsided smile, which wormed its way into my heart. I trusted you. I think with was the respect that you paid me, no pushing, no cajoling. I knew that there were at least two other girls at that party who seemed annoyed that you appeared to prefer my company. You talked of things that made my blood heat, my head spin. Was the fruit punch spiked? I knew about sex, the theory, and read romantic fiction that would have horrified my mother. I was curious, I was nervous of you… and it was a wonderful feeling. Adrenalin is a potent drug. You kissed me, open mouthed and with a passion that had my heart beating wildly in my heaving chest. I turned you on, and was delighted and amazed at the power I discovered I possessed… You touched me, caressing the swell of my breasts and I murmured a 'no'. And you stopped. You apologised and you made me feel very safe, very much in control. I took your hand, your tanned masculine hand and placed it over my breast. That first kiss, first touch ignited fires that I never knew lay dormant within me. I knew how terrible, in the eyes of my family, my actions were… and enjoyed each and every second of my tiny rebellion. If it hadn't been to terrible, so intoxicating, it may not have gone any further.

We ended up out on the veranda, the security light leaving a corner of deep shadow. I wore a long skirt, as fitting for a modest Indian girl, but it also possessed a thigh high side slit. You hand found it unerringly, and I stood shivering with your warm, firm had roaming over my bare skin. You advanced, and paused, advanced a little more, as if waiting on my reaction. We both knew were you were going… and like you, I had no idea if you would reach your goal. The first brush of you knuckles against the front of my panties had me swooning in your arms. My knees threatened to give way. You remained considerate, when you could easily have forged ahead taking full advantage of my overwhelmed senses. Instead, you maintained the gentle contact and asked if I was ok. My response, if memory serves, was 'that I had never known that I could feel so good'. You quickly proved how much better it was possible to feel.
Your stroking finger soon had my honey flowing freely, the material of my knickers seemed to magnify the sensations, as you smoothed it into the groove of my sex. Then you blew what remained of my resolve, a finger slipping past the edge of my gusset, and into the hot, sticky depths of my vagina. The sensations were so intense - I stopped you then, not because I disliked what you were doing, but more from fright at my own reaction. I was sure I was going to collapse, my legs no longer able to support me, a scream in my throat choked back with difficulty. You held me tightly, letting me recover my composure. So began my summer of love.

You fingered me again that night, in the half hour before my parents were due to pick me up. We walked down the drive to the gate, hand in hand, like lovers in one of my forbidden books. You stood behind me, arms around my waste, nuzzling the nape of my neck, nibbling at my ears. To my shame... to my pride, I took your hand and pressed it between my thighs. I wanted more of what you had given me my first taste of. You needed no second invitation, your hand quickly sliding down the waistband of my skirt, and down the front of my pants. You held my sex, my pubic mound in the palm of your hand with a delicately and reverence that I found overwhelming. I closed my eyes and lay back against the support of your body and let it happen, your free hand caressing my breast, the fingers of the other… parting the lips of my pussy, rubbing knowingly at the swollen nub of my clitoris, curling to probe the sticky opening beneath. I stood it for as long as I could, before the sensations threatened to overwhelm me again. Each time your fingers penetrated me, my buttocks pressed backwards against you... and the hardness in your groin. Your manhood, your penis. I savoured the words, to my shame. Erect, hard - in preparation to do what your fingers were doing to me. Frightening. Wicked. Exiting. That knowledge turned my knees to jelly.
At the approach of headlights you stepped off the drive and into the bushes. My parents found me standing demure and alone, not even the taint of alcohol on me.

I talked my parents in letting me start going to the boat club, it was the daily social centre, around the swimming pool. Carol Waterman was my key, and her parents would pick me up and bring me home. It became an everyday occurrence, to sunbathe and swim the day away. I loved you in your swimming trunks, broad shouldered, tanned and we flirted all that first day in the water. I wanted to kiss you... have you kiss me. Any lingering embarrassment from the previous night was dispelled by your obvious delight in me. I hungered for the bikini swimsuits the western girls sported, and hated the one-piece black Speedo my parents insisted on. I loved you lack of concern, and the sincerity when you told me that you where with me, and not them. I almost thought that the day was would pass uneventfully, and then you asked me if I wanted to explore. I almost wet myself there and then in my eagerness.

Behind the changing block was an enclosed leafy glade, well screened from all eyes. You kissed me, and with not a drop of fruit punch in sight. I loved your strong arms around me, your lips on mine. In a fit of bravery, and blunt honesty, I confess that I had "diddled" myself to sleep last night... several times. You held me tightly, our bodies pressed together, your arousal pressed hard against my stomach. Remembering the pleasure you had given my last night, I turned around inside the circle of your arms, and press my bottom against you, placing your hand once more between my thighs. The material was stretchable enough to allow you to slide your hand inside the high cut leg and once again I quivered on your fingertips. You pressed the boundaries further this time, working my breast free from their confinement. My nipples had never been so hard, or so sensitive. In the warm afternoon sunshine, yards from a crowd, I was having my bare breast fondled while your fingers worked their magic with my pussy. It was so bad…. It was so wonderful. I groped behind my body, and fumbled at your trunks. I wasn't thinking, I was reacting to my body's demands. I had a stab of fear, of nervous anticipation, as I found the drawstring of your trunks. Your penis, your cock. A hard warm bar of flesh. Despite the pleasurable distraction of your fingers, the urge to take full advantage of my compulsion made me turn towards you, and examine my catch. I was focused on you, tugging you free from the swimming trunks. This was no curly little tail that the only images I seen depicted.. this was a throbbing bar of veined manhood, blood warm and alive in my hand. I was mesmerised, ignoring your frozen immobility, and knelt unconsciously to take in the details. The pale, blue veined column rising from the dark bush of reddish brown pubic hair, the dark plum like head, the glans. I was fascinated by the loose movement of the outer skin. It was not until some days later, when you explained about foreskins, that I would know that I held a circumcised model. Call me biased, but I have always had a preference for them.
I never told you then, but when I leaned closer, eye to eye so to speak, my open mouth was nothing more than slack jawed awe. When you leaned forward and pressed the blunt head of your cock to my lips, it certainly surprised me. But with an instinct that I did not know I possessed, I knew what you wanted… and swayed forward to accept you. Your cock filled my mouth, my lips stretched wide to accept its girth. I dimly heard your groan and could feel the trembling in your body. I had never suspected that such a sexual act existed... none of my romantic reading had covered this kind of detail. I felt cheated! I did little, I heard you wince and felt your body flinch when my teeth snagged the flared base of your glans, and struggled to keep my lips shielding you. I snuffled through my nose, and vainly tried to swallow the saliva the slightly salty taste of you generated. You slid back and forth - restrained, shallow thrusts - once moving my hand to a firmer grip around the flared base of your shaft, so that I was masturbating, wanking you in time with your fast, short thrusting.
You fucked my willing mouth in a steadily increasing tempo, and just as I became aware of more aromatic salty tang, you pulled wetly back, leaving me gasping like a landed fish. I could feel the shudder in your body, felt the jerk and pulse in your shaft and saw the little eye flare as the first jet of semen spat out of you, hitting my chin and cheek, before you crouched and pulled me close. I rose to meet you, and your slippery, spurting cock was pressed to my breasts, and I felt the subsequent lesser spurts against my throat and between my breasts. As your tremors subsided, and your climax passed, I found myself wanting to cry. Cry? In joy, in awe… in burst of passion, or the power of love? Let us settle for an excess of emotion.
Then, as considerate as ever, you knelt and kissed me, my slimy breast pressed to your broad chest. You fingered me some more, this time down the inside the low cut back of my swimsuit, down between the cheeks of my bottom and in from behind. I would come to know love that rear entry method in the days to come.

My diary records that as the first of twenty-three blowjobs I gave you that summer. I held you to me the second time, and swallowed your cum. I drank your seed eighteen times, the remaining times I held your jerking cock between my breasts drinking you through my skin. Young girls and the diaries.
I sucked your cock in your bedroom, in my parent's bathroom, in the bushes at the boat club and in our respective garden. I drank you cum in the darkened back row of the cinema, and once on the back seat of a taxi. I even risked death by drowning to take you in my mouth underwater in the swimming pool one memorable afternoon. I became rather good at sucking cock, blowjobs, giving head. I struggled to perfect my technique and leaned to breath with a mouthful of cock, and even practiced the skill of deep-throating you. I came to love the taste of you, and even today, I expect to taste the tang of swimming pool chlorine..
The pleasure giving was not one sided. Another party, and we quickly sneaked off into the garden and found a secluded spot amongst some guava trees. The grass was rough and scratchy, and the fear of insects made me unwilling to lie down. I knelt on your jacket and with now practised hand unzipped and unbelted his jeans, pulling them and your underpants down to your knees. You were a little reluctant to be so exposed, but I could not get enough of your cock. Your testicals, your balls fascinated me anew... and I loved to hold your firm muscular behind tight against me when you came in my mouth. I was getting good at sucking cock, and was able to press you right to the back of my throat without gagging, for a short period at least. I learned to lick the underside of your cock, making you writhe and moan in pleasure. And I had learned to make you cum, my masturbating your shaft and bobbing mouth in an irresistible combination - half a dozen strokes in the right combination and you filled my mouth with semen. As always, you knelt and kissed my open mouth, and I never knew until I had experience more of life how distasteful most men found kissing a mouth so recently ejaculated into. This night you bade me stand, and once I did you skinned my damp knickers down to my ankles, and a little uncertainly I stepped out of them. Then you shoved your face into my lap and licked my pouting slit. Oh god. You drove me wild, with tongue and fingers and hot panting breath. I locked my fingers in your fashionably long hair and ground myself against your face, your nose, your mouth. You sucked my clit, and tongued my vagina in a veritable waterfall of honey. I came, noisy, grunting like an animal, struggling not to collapse in a quivering loose-legged heap. You ate me until I begged you to stop, tugging at your hair. You could have fucked me then… I almost begged you to. I was fully aware, in spite of my recent blowjob, that you cock was hard... and only inches from my pussy... my cunt. Along with other parts of my anatomy, you certainly expanded my vocabulary. A dirty word, unloved by women around the world... but descriptive, earthy and crude. I was a dirty, wicked girl, with hot wet cunt, that wanted to be stuffed full of cock. This time your kiss was full of the flavour of me. The tangy, musky flavour of my flowing honey, and it mixed nicely with the lingering flavour of you semen. A portent of things to come.

I spent the next two days wrestling with my conscience. Everything up until know could be dismissed as minor, not true, but it could come under the heading of messing around or heavy petting. What I now desired, craved, was beyond those bounds by a long, long way. Shame, dishonour... my parent's reaction could not be imagined, so terrible would be the wrath that would descend upon me. Which only made my desire worse… I wanted to kick over the traces, my wild streak had been given a freedom I had never dreamed existed. I was a wicked, wanton whore and I revelled in my secret life. I knew that what we were doing could come to a dramatic, painful conclusion at any moment. Our time together, our summer of love was finite. And I knew that you had to be my first.

The next night my parents planned an evening out, I let you know that we would be free until at least ten that night. You were outside my door at eight.
I said nothing to you about my decision. But you knew I think. You said nothing as I led you by the hand into my bedroom. I felt strangely shy as you looked around my girly room and the lacy décor. I had stripped the bed down to a single sheet, and your eyes widened with understanding, confirmation? I undressed you... stilling your attempts to aid me. Then you stood naked before me, your cock a ridged vertical bar of male arousal. I told you to stand immobile as I slipped my blouse off, removed my bra and then suddenly rather self consciously, my knickers. A dramatic pause and I let my skirt fall around my ankles. I remember how wide your eyes were, soaking up my totally naked body for the first time. You lay on the bed, as I requested, before I knelt between you thighs. I gave you a long, slow drawn out blowjob. Every time you moved to participate, I hushed you. 'Later'. Your hardness throbbed and jerked, filled me, and I swallowed, savouring every drop. Rather reluctantly, I let you slide free of my mouth. The moment had moved a stage closer. I smiled up at your flushed features, and whispered, 'Your turn'.
On my back, my thighs unceremoniously spread wide, knees raised in the classic, eternal position for the receiving of cock, for the first time ever. I had never been so exposed, so vulnerable in my life. And I trusted you… as few have been trusted since. I knew, deep inside myself, that you found me desirable, your transparent fascination with my body, my cunt, warmed my heart and soul. You licked my slit, with you magical tongue, parting the swollen labial lips with your fingers. You licked and probed every fold and crevice, from my throbbing clit to my honey filled vaginal opening. My hips bucked up and I came explosively, a few moments later I grunted and moaned in the throes of another. It was becoming unbearable - I tugged hard at your hair, and made you yelp, pulling you up. You rose to your knees, panting, eyes glazed. Your hard, still wet, manhood bobbed in front of you sweaty body. I was tempted to say 'Make love to me'… but I was feeling wicked and dirty, the words came out as 'Fuck me. Fill me. Make me cum'.
Thank you for your hesitation, you enquiring look of 'Are you sure?'. Oh Dear Memory, I have rarely been more sure of anything in my life - and mouthed a silent plea of 'Yes'. One swift motion and the blunt wedge of your cock was pressing against my honey dripping opening. One long, firm push and I was full to the brim with throbbing manhood. No pain, none of the discomfort I had feared. Instead there was fulfilment, intense satisfaction and a warmth deep inside me that I have never experienced since…
I writhed under you, enjoying the sweaty weight of your body, your hardness soaking in my hot clinging depths You lay, trembling slightly, the slow steady throb of your cock, as you kissed my face, my mouth, my aching breasts. We lay for several lifetimes, and you seemed to be savouring the sensation as much as I. Drawing out that special moment, that first ever, full length penetration of my womanhood. If for nothing else, I owe you that memory, that special, once in a lifetime moment. I could feel every twitch and pulse of you, the mouth of my cunt so highly sensitive that I could detect the minuet motions caused by our respective breathing.

Then you fucked my brains out. Starting slowly, easing the hard length of throbbing cock back and forth in my over lubricated cunt, my knees spreading ever wider to allow you fill me deeper, harder. Speeding up slowly, the strange sensation I suddenly realised was your testicals, your balls swinging against the swollen, sensitive bud of my anus. Your hands, sliding under my buttocks, lifting me, moist fingertips at my anus. Many of your early exploratory fingering of my body led to that forbidden place. My initial shock and distaste had been gradually replaced with a kind of anticipation. You had gotten me used to the occasional fingertip, and we had talked about anal sex. Although I could never, relaxed with you as I was, have voiced the thought - the seed of curiosity had been well and truly planted.
You fucked me. Your cock slamming into me, ever harder, ever faster, My mind, like my cunt, expanding and I wrapped my legs around your bucking waist, heels hammering on your pumping, muscular buttocks. Until my cunt, my virgin cunt, exploded in an intense, body jerking, mind blowing orgasm as intense as any I have ever experienced. I heard your groan, felt you shake and jerk in my arms, and your cock, your beautiful hard thrusting cock, was jerked cruelly out of my liquid clasp, a hot slippery pole sliding up the groove of my totally fucked cunt, and you spat your seed into my flattened, soaking pubic bush and up over my belly. I struggled under your weight, desperate to free myself, until you rolled off me, onto your back. I forced my aching, tingling body to rise and kneel over you, taking your sexily soiled hard on into my mouth. I licked and sucked you clean of semen and pussy juices, revelling in that unique blend of flavours… You took my virginity, offered freely and I committed a heinous act of pure debauchery in the eyes of my family… and it remains to this day, the most wonderful thing I have ever done.

At the pool, in our little clearing behind the changing rooms. I gave you a blow job, and with you hot and throbbing in my hand, begged you to fuck me again. You took me from behind, as I bent forward, leaning against the changing room wall. You tugged the material of my one piece swimsuit aside. It was awkward, and you slipped out more than once. But the sensation of your hardness, sliding up into my body, your hand spreading the cheeks of my ass… , my juices running down my inner thighs like a veritable flood. Rear entry became my favourite from that day on… and despite the fear of discovery and hurry it engendered, I loved you humping against my ass under the hot, African sun. I could feel, and hear your climax approach and it did think that you were not going to withdraw, and to my shame would have let you pump your seed into me, risking what that entailed. But as ever, your common sense overruled my lusts, as with a hoarse warning, your impaling spike was withdrawn. I managed to spin round to take your cum in my mouth. I was getting rather good at all this.

Our third fuck was in the garden one more time, and I had the pleasurable experience of lowering myself onto your hardness. You removed my pants and left me in my skirt. With my t-shirt and bra hiked up exposing m breasts, you had me squatting over you, impaled on your manhood. It also allowed me to see.. see my dark, swollen lipped pussy sliding up and down your pale, veined shaft. You jerked out of me at the last moment, and wide eyed, I watched your slippery wet length, bob and jerk as you spat your semen up over your belly. Mesmerised by the sight, I made no effort to take you into my mouth.

The end of the holidays came all too soon. And the knowledge that we would be leaving Africa for good prayed on my mind, and finally drove to desperation. Our final lovemaking… I sneaked you into our house for the second time, knowing my parents were out for dinner and would be late home. You came three times that night. In my mouth as I sucked you off in the middle of the living room floor, both of us fully dressed. You picked me up and carried into my bedroom. I was still shy about the little girl appearance, all frills and pastel colours, with too much pink. You told me it looked nice.
You undressed me, removing every stitch of clothing, slowly, kissing each exposed area of flesh. For only the second time I stood naked before you. No longer the shy virgin, but as your lover. You performed what I remember as an act of worship to my body. You kissed and paid homage to every inch, every nook and cranny of my electrically charged body. You spread my thighs, and I held them wide, tendon aching. You ate my pussy, slow and unhurried, as I writhed and moaned and begged you to fuck me. You had other plans, and turned me onto my side, and then you turned around on me, confusing me as you faced my feet, your mouth still pressed to my sex. As your hard cock was once more pressed to my face, I discovered the confusing pleasure of a 69 for the first time. I lost count of the number of times your tongue and fingers made me cum.. but do remember your gushing cock filling my mouth a second time.

We rested, and I kept a careful eye on the clock, knowing that you would have to be gone and irresistibly, the hour of my parents return crept up on us. We talked vaguely about our futures... silly things, childish things, and we both knew that our destinies lay not within our own hands. I became upset, fearful of the parting we knew must come. You promised not to forget me... and I pretended to believe you. The clock ticked, and our time diminished. "I want you to cum inside me... I want to feel you..." I pleaded. You annoyed me by pointing out that you came in my mouth. "Its not the same!" and a little girl petulance infected my voice. You were gentle, but unyielding, "We - YOU - can't take that risk." I cursed your calm and common sense. I pleaded some more and then you said "There is an other way... that would be safe." I knew immediately what you meant, remembering how you had pressed a finger to my anus now and again. I took little convincing...
"I don't know… wouldn't that hurt?"
"Not if you relax.. got any Vaseline?" you grinned I was a bit fearful of the pain and not at all sure that it was an acceptable act of lovemaking. I let you finger the tight little hole, and found it as previously, not unpleasant. I could see how much the idea turned you on - and I was going to do whatever it took to give you your pleasure.
At your urging I raided the bathroom cabinet and came back with the a small jar of Vaseline. Despite having cum twice your cock was as hard as ever. Then you lay me on my back, legs spread wide as you knelt and entered my well fucked pussy once again. When you withdrew, and raised my bum for the final act, I found my fears had been replaced with a powerful feeling of anticipation. "Relax.. this won't hurt a bit", you intoned in your best dentist fashion, anointing my tight opening and the length of your cock with Vaseline. You lied. It hurt. It hurt like a hot poker in my ass… but when I saw the concern on your face I begged you not to stop. Despite the lubrication my asshole felt as it was being torn open… but slowly your gentle movements eased and my abused opening relaxed. The pain lessened and a strange heat began to build. You saw the change in my expression and began to force your self deeper into me. Looking up at you, your expression concerned, intent, your glance flicking from my face and then down to watch your pale cock buggering my virginal brown asshole… it is still with me. You took my hand, unclenching my fingers and placing it over my pussy. Encouraged by your awed and loving expression I understood, and masturbated for you, rubbing my throbbing clitoris, fingering my recently fucked pussy hole. I could feel you! I could feel your cock, through the thin wall of my vagina… and your expression told me that you could feel my finger. To my surprise, I could feel the onset of an orgasm.. a new sensation, your hardness in my ass, my finger, your expression of loving lust.. You started those fast shallow strokes, that with my recently won experience, told me that you were close to cuming. You really did like my ass! "Cum inside me.." I managed to gasp and you did. Feeling you jerk, your hardness pulse, was enough to trigger my own uniquely anal orgasm. I was unlike anything I have ever experienced since. Three times a woman had been a line you explained to me at that first party - mouth, cunt and ass.

You made it out of the house with minuets to spare, any longer, and you would have been trapped inside. Nothing like bars on all the windows to maintain a sense of urgency. I stripped the bed after you left, and soaked in the bath until my parents became worried. Worried about me bathing too long! If only they had known. Then I was gone. Back to Malaysia, back to my cultural prison. I put you away, like a childhood toy that you are ashamed to remember how much you loved. The memory of you faded, like a dream, but never disappeared. My eventual marriage was one of practicality and common sense, not passion. Every time my dutiful husband parted my thighs to perform his husbandly duty, the sense of anticipation I felt was never realised, a nagging, unspecified memory telling me that I was missing something.

So, despite my respectability, my marriage vows, not to mention cultural taboos, I will meet with you. My memories are too powerful, my fingers are jammed too deep inside my aching pussy. The memory of you haunts my tongue - and that young, wild child lives once more in this middle aged body. I will be in that bar tomorrow night, and I will want fucking - fucking out of my mind.
And maybe, just maybe, I will have another story to write……