Light My Fire Ch. 01
Keywords: 01, Fire, Ch., My, Light,
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"This is a story that explores the dark side of one woman"s desperate search for a lover who could* light her fire*. To skip directly to her eventual submission to her dominant lover would not to do justice to the depth of that desperation. Accordingly, much of this lengthy first chapter is devoted to an understanding of the frustrations that gripped Rose Anne"s life. Please stay with her as she tells us who she is and why. It is my belief, and certainly my hope, that your patience will be rewarded. For those who cannot wait for the "down and dirty", however, I am simultaneously posting chapters 2 and 3 along with this one. Whether you prefer the complete story, or only the raw sex…, enjoy…, and don"t forget to vote. Jigs "
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"SPINSTER!!" What a terrifying word to a female pushing thirty five without prospects. My name is Rose Anne Lombardi. I"m a damn good legal secretary, and I make a decent living for myself. I own a duplex in a good neighborhood that I live in one half of, and rent out the other half as extra income. I own a nice car all paid for. All in all I have a good life, but the years are slipping by and I have no mate. Am I worried about that? You can bet I am. Panicked is a better word.
Why can"t I find "THE" man and make him a permanent resident in my bed? I"m not bad looking. I"m even sexy in a healthy Italian sort of way, and altho I may die an old maid, I won"t go into the great beyond as an innocent virgin. The first penis visited in my pussy fifteen years ago, and in the years since others have occasionally dropped in to say hello.
I haven"t spread my legs for just anybody, but I admit I"ve lost count of exactly how many men have fucked me. Anybody can lose track of such details, and after all, a good Italian Catholic girl doesn"t carve notches on her bed post. My best guess is that I must have shared my bed with about ten to twelve men over the past fourteen years. With all but a couple of those, I have had a continuing relationship of one kind or another, but I was never close to marrying any.
As the days, months and years slip away without a husband, I can hear my biological clock ticking, and I am becoming ever more fearful that I may miss having a home and family. Well, O.K., I"ll admit a husband, a little white cottage, and a brood of rug rats, are not my only concern about what I am missing as time passes me by. To be totally honest about it, as much as I need a man who will marry me and give me his children, even more desperately I need a man who can "light my fire.
A MAN TO LIGHT MY FIRE!!" That"s really what I have wanted since I was thirteen, but I"ve never been able to let go, get laid, and enjoy the occasion. You see, I was raised in a devoutly Catholic home of first generation Italian Americans, and I was educated by the Sisters of Charity in a parochial girl"s school. My conservative parents and the good Sisters filled my head with a Christian morality imported directly from the old country.
"Sex is dirty."
"Men are not to be trusted, they only want one thing from a girl."
"A good Italian Catholic girl keeps her knees together and her blouse buttoned."
"A good Italian Catholic girl is a virgin on her wedding night."
"A good Italian Catholic girl does the dirty deed only with her husband, and then only because it is her duty to him and the Pope."
Well, I was barely out of puberty before I began to suspect all that was so much crap. My early experiments with my own fingers suggested that a girl chaste and pure was missing something..., something important and very enjoyable. I was backsliding fast, and willing to go faster yet, but a lifetime of cultural brainwashing is not that easy to ignore.
My body blossomed early. I"m no classic beauty, my Italian nose and mouth are too big for that, but my face is passably attractive in an old-fashioned sultry sort of way. I"ve been told that I have a great body. I am tall and full bodied without being fat. I have big boobs with minimum sag, long sexy muscular legs, and a nice ass. Those are feminine assets that attract men as quickly as a beautiful face, maybe even quicker.
From the time I was thirteen I had lots of young (and some not so young) studs buzzing around me. I enjoyed all that masculine attention, and damnit, I tried hard to act sophisticated and send all the right sexy signals. I fogged up car windows with passionate foreplay in every lover"s lane on the Jersey shore, but I just couldn"t muster the nerve "to-go-all-the-way."
All my effort at being a hot chick earned me nothing but a well deserved reputation as a prick tease. Whatever my problem was, however, it was not anything physical. After my date brought me home all frustrated and doubting myself, I would masturbate, and I never failed to orgasm on my own finger.
What the hell was my problem then? The other girls at the Sister"s of Charity School were able to shrug off the sterile Catholic morality the Nuns handed out. All my friends were growing up quite normally, and one by one they were managing to get themselves married, fucked, and pregnant, not always necessarily in that order.
Why couldn"t I? Too choosy perhaps? Maybe, but not really. I just couldn"t seem to get over my hang up about having a man lay between my legs and actually stick his "thing" in me. I had been warned about men, and what they wanted from me, until I was a semi-frigid basket case. Still, even as screwed up as I was, I wanted to get laid in the worst way. As tempting as the thought was, however, I just couldn"t bring myself to spread my legs, lay back, and let some stud give me the delicious dirty business.
As it happened then, I was out of high school a full year before I finally lost my cherry. I was going on 20 years old, earning my own living, and still a reluctant virgin when Mr. Larry Kelly popped my hymen. He was maybe 45, married, prominent in the local society pages, and a wealthy client of the law office where I worked.
I had never met anyone as smooth and confident as Larry. He wined me, dined me, flattered me, and within two weeks, he had my panties off and was fucking me. Yeah, I was as easy as that for him, but don"t let that mislead you about how it actually happened. It wasn"t altogether Larry"s skill and considerable experience as a cocksman that convinced me to let him stick me. I"m sure he thought of my deflowering as a seduction, and from his perspective, maybe it was. For me, however, it was more of an experiment.
It turned out to be an experiment that was less than successful. Eager as I was to try some real sex, the whole thing was disappointing, Not unpleasantly so..., just not all that I expected it to be. I liked what he did to me, and altho the world didn"t shake, some of it felt pretty good. Certainly, I was encouraged enough to keep trying for a better result.
"Damn," I thought, "maybe I"m just off to a slow start. Larry has a well shaped, experienced, and suitably functional penis. Surely I can learn to get off on it."
And so, I went back for more..., repeatedly. I had nothing to lose by trying. I was on the pill, and my reputation was safe. Larry was not only discrete by nature, he was very careful not to let anyone know he was fucking me lest the jealous bitch he was married to find out. Anyway, to be Larry"s latest mistress was a kick. He was handsome, rich enough to give me expensive trinkets, and he screwed me only at the best hotels.
Just as important, in my own semi-frigid way, I enjoyed having Larry make love to me. Sometimes he would bring me right up to the edge. I just never fell off the mountain screaming the way I was told a woman was supposed to. Larry was an accomplished lover and he did his best, but every time he put his cock in me I could hear the Sisters of Charity whispering in my ear, "no, no, naughty girl, dirty, dirty."
With a young girl carrying that kind of Catholic guilt as baggage, the poor guy never had a chance. Hard as Larry tried..., and he tried damned hard..., he just couldn"t give me the orgasm I wanted so badly. I understood where the problem was, and I never blamed him for my failure. Hell, I thought I loved the guy, and even tho not fully satisfied, I was inexperienced enough to be proud of being the secret lover-on-the-side of a big shot in the social and financial worlds.
I thought I was the whole problem, and surely an older lover with Larry"s experience should be able to teach me how to be a real woman. The truth was, however, for all his previous history as a cocksman, Larry didn"t really understand sex much better than I did. There were a couple of times I think I could have made it with him if only he had used his tongue and fingers just a bit longer. I was far too shy and hung up to ask, but I needed him to put his mouth over my sex, his hands on my tits, and just stay there until I could build a climax.
He never did that for me tho. Always way sooner than I could get off he would take his mouth and fingers away, and crawl between my legs and fuck my cunt with his cock. Larry"s eagerness to have his cock in my pussy may have been just selfishness on his part, but probably not. He was otherwise a man too conscientious and considerate for that to be likely. Looking back on it, I think he simply believed it was a reflection on his masculinity to bring a woman off by manual and oral manipulation rather than with his penis. Its a shame, but a lot of men believe that.
Anyway, Larry kept on banging me as best he knew how for about a year, and he never gave me "the big O". Finally he quit trying and traded me in for a skinny little blond twit of a fashion model with a factory installed automatic orgasm. It"s hard on a girl"s morale to lose her first love, but I had known all along that being a married man"s secret mistress does not promise any thing very permanent.
Once the ice had been broken along with my hymen, I found it easier to taste test the buffet of masculinity that is out there waiting for a single girl.
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Keywords: 01, Fire, Ch., My, Light,