Night of Metamorphoses

I was 26 at the time. I lived alone in a large apartment that I inherited after the tragic death of my parents. They were musicians and died in a car accident while on tour.

I had recently separated from my husband. He was a good man, but that proved insufficient to save our marriage.

I had many acquaintances. We often gathered at someone's place. Usually, the hostess would bake a cake or a pie. The tea ceremony was a very important part of the evening, and the hostesses would use all their creativity, competing, or rather vying, with each other.

It was the time of gramophones and 78 RPM records. We read a lot, were interested in

the events happening around us, and loved music. Many of us played various musical instruments, and at our gatherings, Bach and Tchaikovsky, Mozart and Chopin were often heard.

I saw Him at such an evening. His impeccably fitting dark gray suit, his tastefully chosen tie, his carefully styled hair immediately caught my attention.

We were introduced. I really liked His soft manner of speaking and his somewhat old-fashioned gallantry. But what impressed me most were His hands.

When he sat down at the piano and began to play Mendelssohn, I couldn't take my eyes off his hands. Not very large, with beautiful fingers, they effortlessly drew out enchanting melodies.

I played the piano myself and understood that if this man had made music his profession, he would have had an extraordinary destiny.

At that evening, I also played my beloved Beethoven. Everyone liked it, and I received my share of compliments. He also said a few beautiful and gallant words.

The next time I saw Him was in my home. He came with my friend and her husband, a rising medical star, always busy, often rushing off to another emergency call at the most inconvenient moment.

As before, I was struck by His refined manner, His gentleness, I repeat, gallantry, and something that simply surrounded, enveloped me with warmth and coziness. I was simply captivated by His tact.

The evening was going wonderfully, except that my friend's husband kept calling his workplace to check on the condition of a patient he had operated on that day. It ended with him being called to the hospital. They left, and we were alone.

The centerpiece of our apartment was a concert grand piano, left by my parents.

We played Chopin for four hands. Sometimes our hands touched each other. For me, these were thrilling touches. I waited, I wanted His hands to embrace me, to press me against this man who stirred me. I waited, my thoughts far from Chopin's music. A different music was playing within me, the music of desire, the music of rising passion.

This had never happened before.

My sexual experience was limited only to intimacy with my ex-husband. I was fine with him. I reached orgasm quickly, but I never felt that "flight" that my not-so-modest friends often talked about among themselves.

And so, I waited, I wanted, I burned with impatience. But a sense of shyness held me back.

The sheet music swam before my eyes. I began to make mistakes. He stopped playing. My hands dropped lifelessly onto my knees. He turned and looked at me intently. I couldn't see his eyes, but I suddenly understood that what I wanted most was about to happen.

And I became afraid. Afraid of myself. I was ready to grab this timid, shy man myself, pull his impeccably groomed head towards me, ruffle that perfect part, and kiss, kiss, kiss...

In confusion, I rose from the chair. He immediately stood up. His hand touched mine.

I had often read about sparks flying when trembling hands or feet touched. And those descriptions left me indifferent.

Now I understood, no, I felt that something inexplicable pierced my entire body. I lost my balance and found myself in His embrace. I could no longer restrain myself. I pressed my whole body against him. I wrapped my arms around His neck, pulled Him to me, and literally devoured His lips.

It was a kiss of passion, abandon, desire, and a sign of readiness for anything.

I myself placed His timid hand on my excited breast. I wanted Him to feel what was happening to me, for the hardened nipples, ragged breathing, and greedy mouth to await His response.

There was a response, but a very timid one, or perhaps too gentle. I wanted a whirlwind of passion, but there was only gentle stroking and very cautious kisses.

It was torture. I could no longer hold back.

It's a good thing I couldn't see myself from the outside at that moment. I never could have imagined that such passion, such impatience, such shamelessness could take hold of me.

I literally tore off His jacket, pulled His shirt out of his trousers, felt the warmth of His bare body, and, exhausted by the feelings and sensations overwhelming me, began to slowly sink to the floor.

He caught me, lifted me in his arms, and carried me to the bedroom.

He fussed with his tie for a long time; I was ready to rip it off. I didn't have time to unbutton his shirt, so I simply pulled it over His head. I didn't have time to admire his body. Every cell of my body wanted Him.

And He, tenderly and gently, in no hurry at all, began to undress me.

Not hoping He would do it quickly, I took off my bra myself and helped my skirt fall to my feet.

One of my assets is my breasts. Fairly large, they stood proudly, pressing their hardened nipples against His body.

I tried to take off His trousers, but the belt had some tricky buckle that I couldn't manage. With fury, I began to pull the trousers down, but they wouldn't budge.

Tears of resentment and impatience were ready to burst from my eyes. But then I felt the gentlest touch of His lips on my nipples.

What can compare to these touches? To the touch of a mother's breast during the first feeding. No, that's not the same sensation.

It's an incomparable sensation of tenderness from a MAN you desire.

The ground began to slip from under my feet again. I lay down on the bed. Only my panties remained on me, which He was in no hurry to remove.

I lay exhausted, eyes closed. I didn't understand what He was fussing with.

But then He lay down next to me. My eyes were closed. Everything happening was conveyed only through sensations. His lips pressed against mine, and a sweet languor began to fill me again; His hand touched my hardened nipples. I barely held back a moan of pleasure. His hand slid along my body, encountered the elastic of my panties, the panties began to slide down, and I immediately lifted my bottom to help Him. And then, with astonishing shamelessness, I felt how wet I was there, invitingly wet. I was ready to receive the Man, I craved the MAN, I wanted Him.

This had NEVER happened before.

He lay beside me. I felt His member pressing against my side. I clearly felt its size and hardness. He continued to caress me but, for some reason, hesitated.

That's it, I could no longer endure this sweetest torture. I grabbed His member and pulled Him onto me. I myself guided the member where my impatient body called, and, clutching His buttocks, I fiercely pressed Him against me.

He didn't enter me; he flew in.

Then something incredible began to happen. A metamorphosis occurred. An inhuman sound, or rather a roar, was heard. He was making that sound. His member began to rapidly pound me, striving literally to pierce me through, trying to reach the very depths. His movements became swift and sharp. Where had the slowness and gentleness gone? This was a Satyr, an insatiable Stallion, broken free from his chain and reaching his "victim."

His member worked like a piston, and very soon I began to feel my consciousness leaving me from the approaching orgasm. And then He lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and the member went even deeper into me, reaching some mind-blowing spots. I came. I screamed with pleasure. Something unimaginable was happening to me. I couldn't even imagine how good I felt, or rather, that it could be so good. But it was so good, and it was happening to me.

My scream stopped my partner. He pulled out his member and laid me on my stomach, then lifted my bottom. I willingly got on all fours. "Down there" I was a complete "flood." He positioned himself behind me and with a strong thrust, entered me with a squelch. From pleasure, I arched my back and almost crouched, like a spurred horse. His hands held my waist and literally impaled me on his member. This wasn't particularly necessary, as I myself eagerly strove to meet this miracle.

The first time He came only when I was on top. By that point, I had simply stopped counting my orgasms.

He lay on his back. I braced my hands on His shoulders and sat on his member. Then I began to rise and sit in the rhythm that gave me maximum pleasure. He helped me with this. Suddenly I felt Him tense and quicken the pace; I immediately adjusted to him. At some moment, He pressed me to himself and wouldn't let me move. His member stopped inside me, shuddered several times, and I first heard an inhuman cry, then felt how good He felt, how well he came. This pleased me; I was happy that the Man had received pleasure and satisfaction.

I've already said that this was happening to me for the first time. Before, with my husband, we practically never changed positions; I experienced orgasm at most once per sexual act, and other liberties—never. We always turned off the light, and I tried not to show myself naked too much in front of my husband. I had read and heard much from my friends, but all that passed me by.

With this man, everything changed. I became different; I suddenly understood that to be a woman, one must meet a man.

So, He came, and I carefully lay down next to him. The bright light was on in the bedroom, and to my surprise, it didn't embarrass me.

His member, having lost its firmness, rested on His leg.

The metamorphoses continued.

I suddenly had a desire to touch it. I took the member in my hand, and it immediately responded to my touch. It shuddered, and its owner emitted another sound of satisfaction.

From the moment the last piano notes faded, we hadn't spoken a single word. Everything happened intuitively, literally on a subconscious level. And only the sounds of passion shook the bedroom walls.

The member shuddered and began to come alive. The blood vessels became more and more defined; it began to rise and harden.

It was a miracle. I had never seen such a thing. It was so arousing. Completely involuntarily, my hand slid over this wonderful organ. Its head looked at me invitingly. I began to understand the rabbit that, under the hypnotic gaze of the boa constrictor, walks into its mouth.

The attraction was irresistible. My lips themselves first touched the tender surface, then parted slightly, and the head was in my mouth.

What I felt, I cannot convey. The first thought—what am I doing?

After all, I have a man's member in my mouth. How awful, I'm giving a blowjob. Myself, no one asked or forced me. What's wrong with me? But the pleasure I began to experience, caressing, touching with my tongue, sucking this male wonder, instantly erased thoughts of shame and doubt.

I was pleasing Him. He moaned and panted very expressively. His hand rested on my head, and He pressed lightly on it, showing that I should take it deeper. I tried to do so, but I choked and squeezed his member with my teeth. It hurt him; the member shuddered. I felt guilty. I tried very hard to make up for my fault, stroking the head with my tongue and lips. I tried to take it as deep as possible, and after some time, I achieved noticeable results.

I was getting double pleasure. The novelty of sensations and some unfamiliar excitement, and second, the awareness that I was pleasing Him. Only one thing worried me: what to do when He came. I knew that semen is swallowed. Friends said that it also gives pleasure, but it frightened me.

I looked up, not releasing the member from my mouth. He, with eyes closed, was "in seventh heaven." His breathing quickened, and I understood that He was about to come. In panic, I pushed the member out, and a hot stream hit my face.

I was taken aback, and suddenly I understood that I wasn't disgusted; I was pleased. It was I, with my mouth, my caresses, who brought Him to orgasm. He is coming, He feels good. I grabbed the ejaculating member into my mouth again, and the last drops of semen entered me, to my great pleasure.

He was empty, and I was burning all over. I was aroused by my shamelessness, my boldness, the novelty of sensations. The sensation of the intoxicating smell of semen, which I simply smeared over my face, excited me, causing a surge of passion and desire. I wanted Him; I couldn't wait any longer. My hand reached again for the resting member. But He intercepted it and, leaning over me, began to kiss first my breasts, then his tongue slid over my stomach and stopped near my clitoris.

This was a completely new sensation. I froze in anticipation. My legs parted by themselves, letting His head through. Suddenly a spasm of delight ran through my body. At first, I didn't understand what was happening to me. And only after a few moments did I realize that it was his tongue touching, caressing my clitoris.

I simply couldn't endure such a thing. I could hear myself screaming and moaning, but I couldn't hold back. As He caressed me with his tongue, my consciousness left me more and more. I was loudly dying from unreal pleasure.

Suddenly something changed. A new sensation arose. Without stopping to caress me with his tongue, His hand slipped under me, and a finger touched my anus.

I didn't understand the impression. Consciousness began to return. I tried to comprehend what was happening and what I was feeling.

The finger persistently sought the entrance. I instinctively clenched my bottom, but it was too late. The finger stubbornly entered my anus, paused for a moment, then moved inward again. It wasn't unpleasant, but the new sensation didn't bring pleasure either. I relaxed and again began to feel His tongue, which was already teasing my lips THERE. The tongue repeated the movements of the member, but not deep inside, but near the entrance, as if teasing me, arousing me even more. The finger penetrated deeper and deeper into me. But then it stopped, moved back slightly, and returned to its previous depth. I felt languor, warmth, and something so new. The tongue and finger synchronized their movements, and I came with a squeal. It was so new, so good, that I simply passed out.

Returning to the real world didn't happen immediately. First, I felt the man lying next to me. Then came the awareness that astonishing metamorphoses had happened to me that night. I had discovered a whole world of new amazing sensations. That night, I understood and truly felt how diverse life can be and that many concepts of what is permissible and what is not have relative meaning. I had crossed the threshold of improper puritanical upbringing. I had become a woman who wants, can, and will definitely receive full pleasure from intimacy with a man.

It was a night of metamorphoses.