I’m not a Naughty Girl, I Promise

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Initiating things isn’t my way or style. However, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t because I didn’t want things to happen but rather, I lacked the confidence to make them happen. I was/am shy…at first, anyway. I feel comfortable in how I look and dress, but there’s always been that social hurdle of making contact that I just can’t seem to make happen – alcohol induced confidence excluded, of course. It is safe to say that I over analyze everything. If I do this, what will he think? I labor over what outfits to wear…every day. I want social acceptance but fear rejection even more, I think. It is the primary decision influencer in me – rightly or wrongly. I have an innate desire to want to please and avoid conflict at all cost. Paramount, however, is that I want to be liked. Because I choose words carefully, always considering how they’ll come off, I was never one to be quick on my feet. Introspectively, this perhaps places more emphasis on my non-verbal communication to get what I want – a guy to talk to me, look at me, hit on me, kiss me, fuck me, etc. That is what I’m good at.

This happened right in the beginning of my college experience and stands out to me as the first time I actually initiated being ‘naughty’. Jay was a guy’s guy. Good looking. Smart. Athletic. Funny. Confident. Popular. I met him in the fall of my freshman year and was captivated by him immediately. While I could get him to notice me, and even chase me on occasion, it never went anywhere. He’d call/text just enough to let me know he was there, yet never asked me out. And yet, when I was at his fraternity’s house, he’d always hit on me. Yet, nothing. We made out a few times, even shacked once, but I didn’t give him what he wanted – not even close – although I did let him try. Months went on, and it was more of the same. I just accepted the fact that he wasn’t sure if he was into me or not.

In the spring of my freshman year, for whatever reason, his calls/texts became more frequent. We hung out more, but it never was officially dating. On the occasion I was at his fraternity house, I’m certain we made out, but again, it was always spur of the moment stuff. He never asked me out to any socials, functions, etc. We were just good friends, I guess.

Then, my car broke down. It changed my routine drastically, which was magnified by the fact that I lived off campus. Then, the sweetest thing happened – Jay offered me his car…for the day, which turned into a week. In retrospect, I probably would have been fine without a car for a few days, but when it happened, it seemed horrific.

Of course, being the over analyzer casino oyna that I am, this threw me for a loop. Maybe he did like me? Who loans their car out to someone for a week? There were no apprehensions, nothing. He genuinely wanted me to use it. So, I did.

During that week, we talked/texted every day. I was very grateful…and indebted. And, because it felt socially normal, and passed the it-would-be-okay filters, I told him I wanted to make it up to him. I’m a horrible cook, but that’s what I wanted to do for him – invite him over, hang out, nobody else would be around (roommate practically lived with her boyfriend), and…maybe, just maybe I could get him to bite…finally. He agreed.

Again, everything was calculated and analyzed ad nauseam. What if he rejected me? Will I look stupid? Desperate? What if the meal was horrible? What should I wear? What would we talk about? What should I buy at the store? Everything.

My car got fixed and I dropped off his jeep and he drove me to my apartment on his way to class. Outfit

was a denim skirt, tee shirt and sandals. I felt confident as I knocked on his door at the fraternity house. And, I got the approval I wanted from his reaction. He teased me. I down played the outfit. Goal accomplished – get him excited about that night. Check.

He came over about 8:00 that evening. Outfit number 2 was a pair of shorts, a college tee shirt that nearly covered my shorts, but not really. It was the trend. No shoes, and my hair pulled up. Now why would my hair be pulled up? 🙂 Again, everything was contemplated. It needed to run smoothly.

I made him this Mexican casserole and we had margaritas – for his sake and mine. As the drinks flowed, so did the conversation. Suffice it to say that conversation led to flirting. Flirting led to innuendo, innuendo led to me teasing. Fish on hook.

I remember standing in the kitchen, pretending to clean up, when he entered the kitchen to help; the kitchen was small, and essentially overlooked the living room area. He kissed me. It was amazing – not that it was ever bad. But, perhaps I knew what it meant, and what was coming up that made it seem on a different level.

My natural instinct was to let him lead. It’s possible I’d perfected the art of making myself available to be kissed, and it was on full display in that moment. I made it clear that this wouldn’t be just a kiss. This would be a make out session. I let him know that I approved, perhaps lunging at his lips with my own as I felt him pull away. My soft fingers caressed his chest, clinching his shirt lightly. I wanted him to know he canlı casino was a good kisser, even if I wasn’t confident enough to say it aloud. I also wanted him to know that he could kiss me as much as he wanted. As the kiss broke, I blushed. I smiled, as I looked up at him. If he had only known what was causing me to blush. I was ready right then and there, to take care of him and he could tell something was on my mind.

“Thank you,” I whispered, coyly.

“Thank you,” he replied. “The dinner was amazing.”

“Well, I’m a horrible cook, but…” as my words were interrupted by him kissing me again.

I knew I couldn’t let him lead. That’s not what I wanted and it took everything I had to break the kiss. I was so nervous but the time was now. Despite the tequila, my stomach was filled with butterflies.

“Well, the dinner was just a reason to get you to come see me…” I blushed. “I feel kinda stupid, but…and don’t laugh at me, promise?” as I looked up at him. I gave him a few more kisses to ease the social awkwardness before pulling away again. “There’s something else I want to give you as a thank you for letting me borrow your jeep.” I bit my lip and took his hand and led him to the couch.

In retrospect, he probably thought it would be sex. And, truth be told, I probably would have done that. I had other plans, though – something in which he wouldn’t have to do anything, but sit there.

He took a seat on the couch, with a big smile on his face. “I said no laughing,” I giggled.

“I promise…I’m not laughing,” he replied but I leaned in to kiss him once more before he could finish. I stood there, somewhat towering over him as we made out. I was almost there.

“So…I’ve kinda wanted to do this for a while…and I’m promise I’m not bad girl,” I lied as I whispered into his ear. “But, you are kinda hot,” I giggled, “and it was the sweetest thing that you let me borrow your car…so I’m kinda using that as an opportunity to see if…” I kissed him on the cheek. “To see if I can give you a blow job…can I?”

The look on his face was priceless. I almost melted. Maybe we should have had sex right then and there. His voice cracked, as I watch his mouth. He was speechless, almost.

“I had no idea…I’m kicking myself for not making a move earlier, but I thought you were so out of my league…” he whispered.

“Shhhhhhh,” I giggled. “I thought the same thing, but opposite,” I whispered as I reached down and began to unbuckle his belt. I dropped to my knees as I opened his button, then zipper. “So, can i? Please.” I giggled.

I looked up at him as kaçak casino I smiled, and blushed. I felt so naughty, but was loving every minute of it. I had him captive. This was about to happen.

He lifted his hips and I pulled his shorts and boxers down his thighs and to his ankles. I admired his cock, which stood there throbbing with anticipation. I was the cause of this and it gave me a rush. I loved looking at it as it stood there, excited and expectant.

“It makes me happy,” I beamed. It was a stupid comment, but I meant every word of it. With that, I approached his cock for the first time with my hands. I stroked it lightly, as if prepping it for my mouth.

I leaned up slightly and looked up at him as I kissed the tip of his cock. His head fell back and I began the process of thanking him for his gesture.

At this point in my freshman year (this will be revealed in other stories), I’d been broken…mostly by a guy named Todd. I had learned to swallow. Needless to say, I was very, very good at giving a blow job.

I opened my mouth and slid down on his cock, barely touching it, until I could reach no more. I closed my lips around his shaft and began to climb back to the tip. I would repeat this a few times as I studied his facial and body expressions. I could tell by the energy in his cock that he wouldn’t last long. “Ashamedly,” I’d become an expert on when a cock was about to cum – still makes me blush as I type this. I caressed his balls with one hand, and circled the base of his shaft with my fingers from the other. My fingers followed my lips as I lowered and rose on his member.

He stopped me. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that,” he whispered. He looked embarrassed.

“Good…that’s what I want…but there can be a round two when you are ready,” I assured him, smiling as I went back to servicing his cock just as I was before. This time, however, my eyes locked in on his as he lifted his head to watch me. His mouth opened and a few seconds later, I felt his cum begin to flood my mouth.

I moaned my approval and continued to suck on his member, as if milking it completely. His body tensed and he begged me to stop due to its sensitivity and I obliged. Yet, I began the process of swallowing his cum as I watched him in complete euphoria. It made me feel so good, so sexy, and so dirty. His member went limp and I let it down gently as I began to smile. The taste of his cum was paramount in my mouth, but I didn’t care.

“Did you like that?” I giggled.

“Are you kidding me? I had no idea you knew how to do that…” he laughed, laying there completely relaxed. I knew what he meant by that comment and was both offended and turned on at the same time. “I should have attempted this a long time ago.”

“Yes, you should have,” I confirmed.

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