Morag Cancels My V-Card

Bdsm

Some of my stories are complete fiction, others are based on stories told me by others as true experiences, but this one is a story that actually happened to me. The personalities are accurately portrayed to the best of my ability. I’ve added a little kink to make it more interesting for me and hopefully for you the reader, but fundamentally it was real and happened.

Boy, was I a basket case. I had tried clumsily to kill myself over a girl whom I was mildly obsessed with. It was just short of stalker on my part, but I didn’t let myself take it that far. I gave her space, and we stayed friends. Heather, another American in my college exchange program, had a boyfriend and did have feelings for me, but it never got beyond making out. I was a virgin and 21.

It was the summer of 1986, and I had finished my year abroad. Heather was gone, so I decided to do a week of traveling before I ambled my way back to Heathrow and a return home. Because I had some Scottish heritage, Edinburgh was at the top of my itinerary. After I arrived on the train, I stowed my bag in a station locker and went in search of hotel, hopefully nearby. I consulted a tourism kiosk, selected a hotel that sounded reasonably priced for my student budget, grabbed a quick lunch, retrieved my bag and took a cab to the Glenora Hotel, which was near the big park and a couple of miles from the castle.

The middle-aged lady running the place told me two rooms were available. I paid her and went up. To put it nicely, the place was a bit “careworn” at the time, but it looked clean and at 21 and being on a budget it would do … until. I discovered the door would not lock, so I went down politely to complain. The manager and I went up to look at it. She told me gently the other room already was taken and I would have to lump it. By this time, we were back at the desk and the woman who had taken the other room was handing in her key. It was Morag. She overheard the tail end of our conversation and offered to let me keep my bag in her room. The manager thanked her and asked if that would be OK. I was pretty poor and I had nothing but clothes and toiletries so I decided to risk it for the piece of mind. The manager promised to let me in to get it later if I needed to.

Morag was a tan, well-built woman a few inches shorter than my five-nine. She had curly, dirty blonde hair and a great smile. I would guess she was about 30. We exchanged pleasantries and information about what we planned to see. I mentioned the park and castle.

What is a shame now is I remember almost nothing I did in Edinburgh. I know I never made it to the castle, and I think I did an Underground Edinburgh tour but I can’t say for certain. I did cool off in the park in the shade at some point. I must have grabbed dinner somewhere, gone back and gone to bed early.

I do remember breakfast in the morning. UK food is famously bad, but the British and Scottish do a pretty decent breakfast in my book. I was seated alone at a small table in the hotel dining room. Morag took a seat at the small table near me. We chatted, and I think we spent the day together after that, saw the sites and finished up with dinner at a nice Indian restaurant. We hit it off and I discovered she was Canadian and engaged to be married to a British doctor she had met while she was working as a nurse and he was doing a fellowship in Winnipeg where she lived. When I heard that I abandoned all hope we would be a romantic pair. Maybe that’s why we got along. I didn’t awkwardly make a play, and I am sure at that time in my life it would have been awkward.

After dinner, we bought a couple of bottles of wine in a place on the way to the hotel and she invited me back to her room. It was the last night in Edinburgh for both of us, and innocently I thought nothing of the invitation other than we both were hungry for simple companionship, I thought.

At this point, I should paint the full picture. I was pretty damn cute at 21. No, I wasn’t an athletic type. I was more of what some folks might term a ‘twink’ today. I was slender but not skinny, my hair was a dark brown and I was told I had great eyes and, oddly enough, legs.

I remember sitting on the floor with Morag and getting progressively drunk. Looking back, I think Morag stayed deliberately bahis firmaları one or two drinks behind me the whole time. She talked about her fiance, and once I was under the influence, I talked about Heather and her lousy boyfriend Philip. Despite being shy about sex, I was a pretty good conversationalist even then, and the wine sure helped.

“You sure are cute,” she said right before she leaned over and kissed me. I was surprised and she laughed gently at my face when she pulled back. “Oh, come on. Surely you’ve been kissed.”

“Yeah, Heather and I kissed, but we never did anything more,” I mumbled. “I’m a virgin.”

Now, it was her turn to express shock.

“Wow, really?” I was terrified she was about to mock me for that, but she didn’t. Instead, she said, “That’s a relief” with a big, bright smile.

At the time, the statement just impacted on the surface. Later, I realized what that meant in the AIDS era. It meant I was safe sex. Morag was a nurse so I am sure she knew all the risks otherwise. Being a virgin was a major plus for me and at any other time, it might have been a negative.

With that same smile, she pulled her top and bra off in one motion and threw both on top of her suitcase in the corner. Her breasts were quite enticing, not huge but very well shaped with half-dollar size nipples. Morag had a full body tan. I was sitting on my ass with my legs tucked to the side. She lowered a nipple to my lips, and I acted on instinct, licking and then sucking one then the other.

She sighed saying, “That feels so good, Bob. So good. … I’ve been so fucking horny.”

Still somewhat drunk, I probably was not terribly artful in my sucking, making loud noises now and then. I murmured a complaint about being thirsty, and without a word, Morag popped up and returned with two glasses of tap water, one for her and one for me.

“You drank more than me, but we both should hydrate,” she said, handing me the glass, which I downed in two or three gulps. Morag sipped hers. I must have looked forlorn and worried because she chuckled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not done with you.”

She laid down on her bed and patted the top of it beside her.

“Get up here, Bobby boy, and keep sucking my tits,” she commanded.

I did as she said and laid next to her on my front, resuming the sucking. At some point, I managed to find myself between her legs continuing with the same thing. It was easier to alternate between breasts and nipples in that position. I licked and kissed down her chest and abdomen toward her crotch, and then I started to pull her pants down. I remember they were black with an elastic band, somewhere between sweatpants and Capris in style. Morag stopped me.

In a plaintive voice, I said, “I just want to lick you,” and she smiled slightly and said, “OK.”

Now, if you were a virgin male in 1986, or maybe it was just me, that first glimpse of pussy felt like the treasure of treasures. Neither of us had showered and each of us was a little sweaty, but in the situation, this seemed to only enhance my arousal, probably hers, too.

Her panties were plain, a solid black and as I pulled them and her pants down she lifted her ass to help. When I glimpsed the dark patch of hair between her legs, I paused. Morag had to give me a fake cough to continue and soon she was naked except for her fluffy ankle socks, which she pressed against my back as I kissed her inner thighs and breathed in her scent, which was strong but enticing.

Finally, I kissed her vulva and started licking. She gasped at the contact and let out a little moan. I was naturally tentative and hyperaware of her reactions, trying to use them as a guide. My tongue traveled from the cleft between her thigh and vulva, through her bush and gradually toward the lips of her pussy. That first taste was amazing to me, salty, wet and slightly bitter. What amazed me was the combination of different scents. Maybe it was the wine, but one second she smelt of the ocean, and the next of something like smoke. Slowly, I licked deeper and deeper, and she got wetter and wetter. Her breathing became heavier and faster. My nose bumped the base of her clit and she moaned.

“You’re doing great, Bob.”

She gasped again.

“Is this your first time going down kaçak iddaa on a woman, too?”

I nodded and looked up at her from her muff.

“You’re a natural, but let me get into another position and show you some things. Every woman is a little different, but if you pay attention like I think you’re doing, you’ll do great.”

She got up and moved to the threadbare wingback chair beneath the window. Morag threw a pillow against the back of the chair, leaned back into it in a kind of slouch and threw each leg over an arm of the chair spreading herself wide.

“Get over her and get back to work, bitch,” she said with a playful laugh. I started toward her.

“Wait,” she stopped me. “Get naked first.”

I still had most of my clothes on. I blushed, believe it or not, as I disrobed. My cock was as hard as stone. I was cut and just under six inches.

“That’ll do,” Morag said as she looked at my cock. I was a little disappointed in her reaction and a little underwhelmed.

“Come here,” she said. I stepped right up to her and she wrapped her hand around my cock. It was my turn to gasp. She was so confident as she looked up at me, probably because of my inexperience. “This is a great size for anal – big enough to feel but not big enough to hurt. I’m going to show you how to use it later. First, you’re going to make me cum with your tongue. Get down there.”

I started licking again. Her voice almost had the authoritative tone of a teacher as I started licking. Morag would say, “Labia majora” or “labia minora or “clitoris” as my tongue toured her vulva again. On reflection, it was kind of funny. Her juices were getting my mouth and chin wet. Her latin phrases and anatomy lesson declined in frequency as my tongue pulled her deeper and deeper into sensation and her concentration on those feelings. Morag’s head slumped to the side and her eyes closed. I heard her breathing heavily again and her moans and whimpers increase. My tongue penetrated her vagina, my lips pressed against the opening. Her eyes flipped open and she moaned an “Oh, God!”

“God damn, your tongue is huge!”

Later, others told me the same thing. It’s not only thick, but I can easily lick the bottom half of my own nose. Although my cock was average, I could at least be proud of my tongue.

I’m not sure even today what my tongue hit inside that warm, wet tunnel, but it elicited a “Jesus Christ! FUCK!” from her. Maybe I hit her g-spot. She pushed my head back though, and said, “Lick around my clit. Not on it.”

I did. I circled it with the tip of my tongue more than once before she told me to freeze then guide me ever so carefully back to a spot at about 10 o’clock relative to her clit. “Right there, try to keep it there as much as you can.”

It was then that I became her toy. Morag started grinding her pussy against my face and head, and I tried to keep my tongue near there. Gradually, her thighs encircled my head and got tighter around my chin. Her grinding motions became smaller and tighter, more precise. That made my job easier. Morag’s moans got louder and then she jerked. She didn’t squirt but my face got much wetter, and I struggled for breath. As she came, her grip loosened, her legs spread in the air, and she spasmed again with her climax.

Her feet thudded flat to the floor and she sighed.

“Wow, you did better than I expected.”

I fell back on my haunches and kneeled up. My erection bobbed in the air, and a drip of pre-cum fell onto one thigh.

“Let me get my breath, and we’ll take care of you.”

“That’d be great,” I said with a smile, eager to lose my v-card.

Morag sat up and said, “If you cum right away, I’m going to keep you inside to see if you can stay hard, OK?”

I nodded.

“I want to get off one more time, and I don’t expect you to be able to hold back for long,” she said.

Although I didn’t know it at the time, my circumcision had been slightly off. My cock looked normal, but a doctor later told me that it looked like there was some sensory nerve damage. Erections aren’t a problem for me, but ejaculating in a pussy is something I struggle with today. It’s only happened a handful of times. Usually, it takes oral or a hand and more friction than an average guy might need.

Morag told me kaçak bahis to just lie there so she could control the pace. As she aimed my cock and swallowed it in her buttery warm quim, I remembered how satisfying it was. I can’t cum in one easily, but nothing feels like having your cock in a hot, slippery pussy. Maybe it’s what my lizard brain wants, don’t know.

Slowly, she slid up and down and watched my reaction. After a few thrusts, Morag decided I wasn’t a “three-pump” chump, and she relaxed into it. She was really starting to enjoy it and moan.

“That’s real good, virgin boy,” she teased. “I’m making a man out of you.”

As she uttered that thought, it seemed to excite her. Maybe she was reveling in taking my virginity.

I was grunting and panting myself to match her moans and deep breaths.

After five or six minutes, she had a small orgasm. Morag’s pussy clenched my cock and I almost came but didn’t.

Once she had gathered herself, she looked at me and asked, “You didn’t cum, did you? I didn’t feel anything.”

I think she was a little perplexed and almost insulted that I hadn’t jizzed yet.

“It feels great,” I said with mild panic. I could feel the pressure inside and my erection was undiminished.

I guess she wasn’t too sensitive yet because she started humping my cock again with a somewhat indignant look on her face.

Morag closed her eyes and was quiet. I felt her squeeze, sort of pulse her cock tight on the downward strokes and loose on rising. She started to get into it again.

“Fucking virgin,” I heard her mutter under her breath.

Something about her dismissive tone made me harder. At the time I wasn’t fully aware of my weakness for aggressive, dominating women, but this moment was the first clue.

Her eyes opened with an idea, “Maybe you need a little push like Ralph does,” she said. Ralph was her fiance.

Morag pinched my nipples, each in one hand. I gasped and moaned.

“Yeah, that’s it. Moan like a little bitch,” she sneered. I couldn’t tell if it was an act or sincere.

“My pussy is the best. What are you? A fag?” she asked as she lightly slapped me.

That did it. I came. I came big and wet and with several blasts of semen.

“Oh yeah!” Morag shuddered with another orgasm, not as big as the first when I was licking her, but bigger than the last.

I felt her pussy clenched tight on my cock. She sat on me as we each relaxed. After a minute or two, she pulled off me and my softening cock flopped against my lower abdomen.

Morag surprised me by licking me clean.

With a smile, she said: “You were great.” She looked tired, but I thought I should ask if she wanted me to sleep there in her room.

She told me no. I was surprised because I thought women liked to cuddle after. The bed was small, she said. It actually was small for two, but I could tell she already was having some regrets about cheating on her fiance.

I got half dressed and made my way up the stairs to my room. Thoughts of what had just happened kept me awake and I awoke after only three hours. I slumbered but didn’t sleep deeply after that. My alarm went off a few minutes before dawn and I suddenly remembered the hellish early departure time of my train to London. That’s when I realized my bag was still in Morag’s room.

Fortunately, she was awake. She barely looked at me when she saw who was there at the door. Morag already was packing to leave, too.

“Are you here for your bag?”

I confirmed that and asked how she was.

“I’m OK. I have to get ready to leave though.”

I didn’t know what to do I just stood there awkwardly for a minute or two while she bustled around. I almost gave her my address so we could write each other, but I finally began to suspect she was ready to put me behind her. That would probably be it for us. My first time was a one-night stand. We exchanged parting pleasantries. I thanked her, grabbed my bag, left her room, checked out and headed for the train station.

Like I said, she probably was having some buyer’s remorse. On the other hand, I don’t think Morag ever thought of me as more than a night’s diversion, one last fling before she spoke her wedding vows.

So, my first time was sexually satisfying and I performed well, but it was a little sad at the end. I never saw her again, but I still have one snapshot of her I have held on to. Wherever she is, I hope she’s happy. Thanks for cancelling my v-card, Morag.

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