Oral sex is an art form.

The cold and rainy September brought a rather positive and very pleasant evening into our family life.

Indian summer had ended a few days ago, and with it had vanished the irresistible and constant desire for sex. This fact greatly overshadowed our family idyll. But, as they say, "Everything has its time." So my husband and I didn't argue with nature or swallow stimulants, but simply sat on the sofa and didn't even look at each other.

There was plenty of time before bed. Some TV series was playing on TV, and pots were sizzling in my kitchen.

My husband was petting the cat. I, meanwhile, occasionally ran to the kitchen, maintaining

the cooking process. In general—boredom, routine, and all that.

It's not that family life was a burden to us; we are sensible adults and understand everything perfectly well, but still, we wanted to somehow diversify our lives. And suddenly, my husband muttered.

"Hey, you know what I just remembered!"

"Of course not," I replied indifferently.

"I remembered my first girlfriend."

"And so what?" I sighed.

"Oh, nothing!" my husband muttered. "Wanted to tell you a story. Changed my mind."

"Oh, damn. I ruined it. How am I supposed to live now? Without your story," I joked, trying to liven things up.

"Live however you want. You're such a pain."

"Well, sorry. I was joking. What's wrong with you, silly? Come on, tell me. Hurry up," I ran my palm over his unshaven cheek, smiled innocently, and twisting like an affectionate cat, I lay back, placing my head on my husband's lap. I know for sure all these actions really please my husband and completely disarm him.

He smiled.

"Yeah, I knew you were joking," he replied, laughing joyfully.

"Oh, you," I exclaimed. "Well, tell me already, or I'll have to go to the kitchen soon," I fidgeted impatiently, getting comfortable.

"Alright then!" my husband replied proudly.

"I was probably about 11 or 12 then. I don't remember exactly now. And she was about 16 or 17. Her name was Olga. Blonde, slender, probably pretty. How accurately I could judge women at that age, I don't remember now. Anyway, let's skip those details. Our mothers were friends, so we often had to meet and visit each other."

The parents drank wine and chatted in the kitchen or even went out for the whole evening, sometimes overnight. But we didn't really complain. We were quite interested together. We watched videos, played cards, cooked something. In short, we didn't get bored. And after some time, our pastime became even more interesting and intense.

Now I understand why we had to spend so much time together. Our mothers were quite young and, moreover, unmarried. And naturally, they wanted to go out, preferably in the company of men. Or maybe they were just looking for partners. But that's not really important.

Around that time, sexual attraction began to stir in me. Olga, as I now understand, was a more or less mature woman, ready for intimate relations. Probably, it was she who influenced the accelerated development of my libido.

At first, I didn't feel anything for her as a member of the opposite sex. Friend, girlfriend—it all seemed the same. We had fun, nothing more. But then, after about two or three weekends, I began to realize that something was stirring inside me. Something warm, soft, pleasant, viscous, a feeling that constantly made me think about itself.

One day, when we were lounging on the sofa playing cards, I felt my dick squeeze strangely, but it let go after a few seconds. Soon, the feeling repeated. And surprisingly, this feeling arose when Olga's hand approached me or when she changed her pose, exposing either a leg or her chest. Now I understand that it might have been her game. She had long wanted something unknown, and I just wasn't ready yet.

Or maybe it happened without her knowledge. On an instinctive level. Otherwise, she would have done it differently, more vividly and extravagantly. So, either she was a good actress, or everything happened naturally.

"Oh, something smells! Don't you smell it? The cutlets are burning!" I yelled, jumped up, and ran to the kitchen. "Well, well! Keep telling. I'm coming back," I shouted from the kitchen.

"That day, it was early summer outside and quite hot. We were half-naked. I was wearing ordinary kids' underwear and a shirt that slightly covered them. Olga was wearing exactly the same. Well, naturally, plus a white bra."

"Are you even listening to me or not?" my husband shouted.

"Of course, darling," I settled back on my husband's lap and nudged him in the stomach, as if to say, go on, continue your story.

"As I said, I had a strange trouble, which soon grew into a huge problem."

When I looked at Olga, when I smelled her scent, even sometimes at certain intonations in her voice, my dick hardened more and more and seemed to grow, fortunately, it also quickly returned to normal. But one day, that didn't happen. It happened, naturally, on the sofa, while playing cards. It couldn't have been otherwise, because it was on the sofa that half-naked Olga struck poses that not only made my dick hard but also sent shivers down my spine and made the fine hairs on my body stand on end. Each time, the sensations became brighter and stronger. So, at one wonderful or not-so-wonderful moment, my dick stayed hard for so long that I couldn't find a place for myself out of shame. I don't know if Olga noticed it then or not, but the sight was, of course, amazing. In one hand, I held cards, and with the other, I tried to cover my erect young cock. But sometimes I needed the other hand to throw a card on the table. In short, I don't remember exactly how it all happened. I remember being very ashamed and, at the same time, a barely perceptible, strange feeling seemed to seize me from within, a wave passing from my solar plexus to my lower abdomen and dissolving right around the area of my erect dick.

And suddenly, I don't know how it happened. Maybe I turned awkwardly, and for a moment, the standing cock was completely exposed. That is, of course, not completely naked, but its contours became visible under the white underwear. That moment was enough for Olga to fix her gaze on the known place and freeze. I quickly covered my cock with the edge of my shirt and blushed deeply.

"No way!" Olga exclaimed. And then fell silent.

For a while, we played cards in silence, not looking at each other. My erect cock, probably from the stress, immediately relaxed. The blush faded from my face, and I began to calm down. The same couldn't be said for Olga. On the contrary, she began to behave very strangely. Everything seemed as before, but her eyes began to emit something inexplicable. As if they lit up. It was the eyes; nothing else changed. I remember this fact well. Later in life, it came in very handy. Well, for example, by your eyes, I can tell exactly when you want sex."

My husband fell silent.

"Well, why did you stop?" I protested.

"I said: 'when you want sex,'" my husband said.

"What, when I want sex?" I replied.

"Oh, nothing! Are you even listening to me or not?" my husband protested.

Surprisingly, I was so engrossed in Olga and my "little" husband that I completely missed the last phrase.

"Well, of course I'm listening. Go on."

My husband wagged his finger and continued his story.

"But soon, it turned out that not only her eyes had changed. Olga said she didn't want to play cards anymore, and at the same time, she stretched strangely, arching. In front, two spheres under her bra strained the buttons on her shirt so much that two of them gave way, and her breasts were revealed before me in all their glory. Of course, the bra straps hid part of her breasts, but still, for an immature youth, it was the height of perfection. I especially noticed her protruding butt. At that time, I didn't fully understand female beauty, but what I saw definitely pleased me, even very much. I couldn't take my eyes off Olga, who was in no hurry to straighten up. On the contrary, in that position, she flopped onto the bed and quietly slid her curved body closer to me."

"It's so hot," Olga languidly murmured. "Aren't you hot?"

"Well, yes. A little," I replied.

Immediately after these words, Olga took off her shirt.

"Need to sew the buttons back on, or my mom will kill me," she smiled. But she wasn't about to go get a needle and thread.

At first, I didn't even pay attention to my dick. Probably due to the flood of sensations. And when I did, I gasped. It was already standing stiff, with half the head peeking out from under the waistband of my underwear. Olga noticed it first and stared at it intently. I tried to cover it with my hand, but Olga made a quick movement, and our hands collided. That sent a lightning bolt through me. The strange feeling grew exponentially. Apparently, Olga felt the same."

For some reason, I stopped feeling ashamed. Maybe because Olga was undressed, and I was in a shirt. Or maybe male nature proved stronger than shame.

We sat directly opposite each other. Her full breasts rose with her ragged breathing, her eyes sparkled with enticing lights, and her little tongue occasionally licked her dry lips.

"Can I look?" Olga smiled, not meeting my eyes.

"Look at what?" I replied. I'm now amazed at my own stupidity.

"Well, at it."

"At what?" I still didn't understand.

"Well, at it," she reached out and lightly touched the young cock.

I shuddered but didn't resist. I just turned my head slightly to the side so as not to look her in the eyes. I was still a little ashamed. But soon that passed too.

Meanwhile, Olga carefully pulled back the loose waistband of my underwear and began to study its contents intently.

"Can I touch?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh," I couldn't even believe this was happening to me. My body was vibrating. Inside, in the groin area, there was a feeling that in another second, something would tear loose. I even got a little scared. What if something falls off, and then I'll be disabled? I'll ride in a wheelchair like the neighbor. That thought also stuck with me very well. Even though it was a long time ago."

I was afraid something might hurt or fall off. Or worse, tear. That's the strange sensation I felt then. As if at any moment, a powerful explosion could happen.

But suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by a very pleasant sensation. Olga's warm and moist hand softly touched my young cock. She grabbed it with two fingers and began to feel and examine it with interest.

The sensations were magical. I closed my eyes and quietly began to breathe heavily.

Inside me, the feeling of an explosion grew stronger and stronger. Shame dissolved without a trace. There were no thoughts in my head. I completely surrendered to the will of my feelings. My virgin dick was given over to Olga's glorious hands.

"How cute it is," Olga admired, running her slender fingers over the small shaft. "Soon I'll show you something too," Olga said mysteriously.

After looking her fill at my cock, Olga took my hand and placed it on her right breast. I was overwhelmed by the flood of sensations and couldn't even move my fingers.

"Well, come on. Feel it," Olga said quietly.

I began to timidly knead the pliable breast, which gave her great pleasure. This was evident from how she closed her eyes and slightly threw her head back. Her mouth opened slightly, and her ragged breathing became clearly audible.

Now, for some reason, I wanted to look at Olga, and I wasn't ashamed at all. That open mouth I remembered for the rest of my life. By the way, you have the same open mouth when you feel good. Are you not listening to me again?"

I smiled and pressed my cheek to my husband's stomach.

A moment later, I felt her hand again on my dick. Her fingers also lightly kneaded the shaft, but this time, for some reason, I wanted to experience a little more. I didn't know how to do that. The feeling of an impending explosion was replaced by a feeling of some kind of lack. It was very pleasant, I wanted her to keep doing it, but something was missing. Something had to happen. Specifically, happen. I also remember this feeling well and carried it through the years. And for it to happen, something had to be done. Now I would clarify—"done correctly." But Olga was an inexperienced girl, as was I. Porn films were criminally banned back then. In short, a dark forest of feelings and not a step in the right direction.

"However, dear," I said. "I didn't know you had such an interesting biography."

"You still don't know a lot of things," my husband replied with a smirk. "When we get old and jealousy subsides a bit, then I'll tell you many things. Enough for a whole book."

"So, did you cheat on me?" I shouted.

"Well, of course not," my husband protested. "That was before you."

"Yeah, right. I'll arrange such a book for you," I said, lightly nudging my husband in the groin area.

"Oof! What the hell? You're imagining things," my husband yelled. "I won't tell you anything else at all."

"Okay, okay. I'm joking. Just for prevention. Tell me, come on," I pleaded. And my own panties were soaking wet. My clit was practically ringing. It was begging, "just stroke me for three seconds, and I'll give you the strongest orgasm." So much for a rainy evening without sex, I thought then.

"Either listen or be jealous," my husband grumbled. Alright, fine.

For a while, I kneaded Olga's tits, and she handled my shaft. Soon, apparently, the moment came, and she simply couldn't hold back. Now, from the height of lived years and accumulated experience, I am sure that at that time, and she was about 17-18 as I said, she definitely masturbated. That is, now I can imagine how hard it was for her not to immediately touch her excited clit and catch, say, half a dozen orgasms at once. So, anyway! The moment finally came, and she slid her hand under her panties, and her fingers under the panties began to move quickly.

At that time, I had no idea what she was doing. And I probably didn't have time to understand at that moment. Because at the same time, Olga began to handle my dick much faster. Even sort of moving two fingers along the tense shaft. Then, a moment later, the movements of both her hands stopped, her body tensed, arched slightly, jerked a few times, and went limp.

"Ol, what's wrong?" I got scared.

"Nothing, it's all good," Olga moaned.

"Does it hurt?" I said fearfully.

"No, not at all, on the contrary. It doesn't hurt at all. It feels good. Just a moment," Olga whispered.

With these words, Olga rose again, pulled out two pillows, placed them along the wall, and lay down on one of them.

"Lie down next to me," she said