Moira & Michael
 By Dchatterly ?1999


This is a short true story about the first date between Moira and Michael as told to Stephen and me by 
Moira. She is 34, has been married to Tom for seven years and was a virgin up until they met. The whole 
thing was Tom's idea and arranged by him. Michael is Tom's squash playing partner. 

Yes! yes! and yes! On Wednesday evening Tom (my husband) spoke to Michael (my intended).

 They didn't bother with the squash game, but relaxed instead at Michael's flat. As Tom promised they 
would, they smoked some hash and sipped some spirits. Tom said that after 30 or so minutes he found it so 
easy to talk with Michael, that he related the story almost as planned. Michael was convinced it was a joke 
on his part - mainly because I have only met him a few times, and he was unsure that I could have formed 
an opinion about him. Suspicious I suppose, understandable, sure. But the more Tom kept up the chain off 
conversation; he thinks that Michael was more, much more than interested - Really. They parted on good 
terms, with the idea planted firmly in his head. Tom suggested we meet the next week sometime. Tuesday 
or Wednesday. He seems so excited by it. 

I'd seen the kids off to bed. Michael has stressed that he will merely talk to me if we meet, to find out my 
side of the circumstance. Tom said also that he felt some of the evening produced a heavily charged sexual 
aura (his words) - that he knew that he (definitely) and Michael, at the very least, were enjoying the 
discussion, along with the grass etc. He showed him a picture of me in lying on our bed in white stockings 
and suspenders. This, he stresses, gave him an immediate thrill, and he could sense, although Michael 
showed trepidation, he ogled it mightily, and stuttered and giggled quite plentifully. By the end of their 
time together, he was quite together with the idea of befriending me. I suppose the next move is mine to 
make. 

After everything was said about their short time together, I reinforced my promise to Tom that he will not 
be the next man to have me. This teased him to the point I wanted and he ejaculated without any effort on 
my part into the inside of his underwear. 

Climax, climax, I yearn for a climax.


Might as well tell you firstly that Tom is fine, great, and ecstatic even - like a child on Christmas morning. 
Despite the fact I returned at about 4.30am, later than I had implied - I fell asleep in his (yes Michael's) 
arms; in his bed, naked and tranquil, settled, relaxed and almost unburdened - like I could challenge the 
world. I make it sound like it was all plain sailing - it wasn't quite like that, but hell, you can't go on a 
journey without taking a few wrong turns along the way. And this was a pilgrimage for me, a voyage of 
discovery, of uncharted territory. Talk about worlds and oysters, heck there aint no stopping me now..my 
deep rooted anxieties, hang-ups - bye bye. Today I exude confidence, reshaped vanity. I have worth for all 
to see. I came, I saw, I conquered, and I came. 

But let me get on with telling you:

I gathered my thoughts and sipped on some wine whilst Tom ran the kids to their grandparents. Not much 
to report here. I was quietly nervous, but controlled and outwardly very calm. He was away a while, so I 
took the time to prepare all by myself. I took a leisurely bath. I must tell you at this point that I kind of 
believed I would not end up having sex with Michael later on. I just could not envisage it happening. But I 
washed thoroughly nonetheless. You have to remember also that I am new, naive really, when it comes to 
planning a romantic evening with somebody I hardly know. It felt silly. Again, I was feeling younger than I 
deserved to feel. Enjoy Moira, I thought, you will enjoy the thrill, it is the excitement I have been yearning.

Tom returned. He'd been delayed, having to chat to his own (very elderly ((deaf)) grandmother). He was 
panicking, worrying, rushing to ensure I managed to depart. I was in the process of buttoning a red blouse 
when he paused to take in the sight of his wife in mid preparation for her `first date'. Confusing images.

We chatted nonchalantly whilst I busied myself, almost refraining from reminding ourselves of the 
obvious. He was more nervous than me; I could see him visibly shaking as he lifted a glass - poor sod.

I insisted on a taxi - don't know why - I just did.

Bye, I smiled, gave him a look I find hard to describe, a kind of wide-eyed and excited gleam, a familiar 
gesture for us I suppose. I think I gave him that look before I attended the interview for my job. I forgot to 
peck his cheek, forgot to say `I love you' - I had worries of my own.

Anyway

Arrived pub, 8.07 I think. Late anyway. Michael sat just at the door, a small glass of spirit in hand 
(Canadian Club). He gives me a truly nervous smile, stands up, sits down, and basically does not know 
what to do. Finally he suggests he gets me a drink. He does. 

Then we're together. I do all the running to start with; talk about work, holidays, squash. He's particularly 
interested in learning about my work. The conversation was fine really, we gelled OK, had similarities; he's 
genuinely intelligent, and basically really timid. He only moved out from his parents home about three 
months ago.

He brings up the strangeness of the situation. I agree, and apologise, saying it has arisen because of many 
things, partly our sex life (first mention of sex), and basically that Tom feels I have never had much 
interaction socially with males. He nods; displays empathy - reminding me of his own under-development 
in this area. Well this is good for both of us, I say, and place a hand over one of his. Gulp! 

The evening wore on. The conversation flowed, much of which I cannot even recall right now. He, not me, 
suggested I might fancy a coffee before heading back home. Think I'd had about 5 measures of spirit by the 
time. I more than eagerly accepted his invitation saying that Tom had raved on about his flat. It was about 
10.15 or so - he called the taxi.

Never saw any coffee's, but was presented a copious measure of - his tipple - Canadian Club. His flat was 
amazing: the security, the entrance hall, and the elevator - operated by a key actually opened up right into 
his hallway. 

I looked around the lounge, drink in hand, nosing in every corner, whilst he sat amused at my delight with 
his decor etc. The next part was my doing, of course - no I never asked to see the bedroom - I chose to sit 
directly next to him. I could have sat in any of the many available seats, but chose to go where he sat - a 
two-seater - lovely smelling leather couch.

We chatted about the flat. He said he would show me it all - I laughed, paused, sipped my glass, paused 
again and met his eye. Maybe later, I said. 

This is where we kissed. It happened, so naturally, carefully, and with an unhesitating ease. We kissed 
without separation for almost an eternity. Really. It felt as if. Suddenly I realised in my head that this guy 
really was unsure how to progress. So cleanly shaven, scented sweetly. My hands got a bit more intimate. 
The lingering kiss managed to evolve into a glorious prelude. Finally his hands found my body to be 
responsive, over my blouse, as they dared to explore the swell made perfect by the push up bra I wore. I 
found I couldn't stop from expressing my approval (in words). I hurried up the process, helping him 
unbutton me, directing him to the warm carpet on the floor. My skirt was halfway drawn up anyway, but I 
unclasped it at the rear as we journeyed downward. This is where we drew apart - looking hungrily over 
each other. Fuck, I felt fit to burst; my lips were totally numb from kissing, tingling frantically, as he pulled 
the blouse over my shoulders. My breasts, I'm sure, were engorged more than I could ever remember, 
almost pouring from the tight new bra. This felt like nothing I'd felt. Nothing from memory. Although I 
know that the first time with a new partner does create a novel unique excitement, I was unprepared for 
this. I think, in the early days, with Tom, I'd been too worried with other things to enjoy it as I should have. 
But, hell this was a good feeling - really. 

I thought we might have done it right there and then, but Michael suggested quite coolly, that now would 
be a good time to see his bedroom; and who was I to stand in the way of progress? He took my hand and 
led me through a door. Still wearing my stockings, bra and pants - I swayed alongside to where he 
beckoned.

His bedroom was so vast, yet tidy and almost empty of furnishing. It was a huge bed that we quickly 
collapsed onto. He continued, starting from where we had left off, with growing confidence, hands not shy 
at feeling, especially the uncovered flesh below my pants - he seemed to enjoy gently caressing this area. 

As our hips collided together, I was aware of his cock, still below his clothes. I rubbed over the front of his 
trousers, eventually getting around to unbuttoning, and carefully sliding down his trouser zip. My heart was 
beating out of control. 

I soon had him in my hand. The first thing I recall is the tip of his cock was extremely wet. I thought at first 
that perhaps he had ejaculated, but he was so very hard, and I was instantly aware of the thickness it 
possessed - and smoothness - not overly veined - but so sleek to the touch. Up to the point when we were 
actually fucking - and we were, soon after this - is kind of a blur. I will not attempt, right now, to try and 
remember it exactly.  He didn't attempt to lick me, nor did I expect him to. There was no oral stimulation 
between us both. I remember lifting my bottom from the floor to allow him to pull down my pants - he 
massaged me tenderly, finding my clitoris with no fuss - I kept my stockings on - I was so ready, I mean, 
I'm usually so wet in this type of situation, but I felt so eager now to have him enter me with his cock - God 
I desired to be ravished. I was so ready - almost too eager, almost too forceful. He lay on me; I reached my 
hands between us, and eased him inside. God - I do remember this point. It felt oh so different - really 
weird. I DO BELIEVE I CAME. As he thrust into me, slowly, controlled, evenly - It certainly was a 
different sensation, sending warmth from my vagina, around the whole area, which drifted up my body 
right through my stomach - tingling over me. Every time he pushed his hips against me, I'm sure he 
elevated further; deeper. I was noisy too, I remember that clear enough, something else that is not usually a 
characteristic of mine. Along with every movement.  The way in which it was different from what I know. 
Whereas Tom's cock is as long, I think, it certainly is not as substantial; wide, I suppose - solid. This, I see 
now, is the difference in the sensation - I recall the feeling of being stretched even, widened - so nice to 
experience, such a real feeling - beautiful -  warmth, floating radiance about me - I was in a flush, 
considerably. 

He used a finger, to rouse my clitoris (another manifestation Tom has never). I instinctively wrapped my 
legs over him at one point, when I sensed another of that enveloping sensation in development,  - 
ANOTHER ORGASM I'M SURE!!!??? He increased his motion into me, I reciprocated - it was joyous - 
to be remembered. He told me when he was about to come, I held onto his body tightly, allowed him to. He 
tensed so firmly, and lingered a thrust, yelped a bit - but searched for my lips to express his recognition of a 
heavenly moment - and it was. We continued kissing, until our mouths could not escape from smiling; eyes 
wide, noticing each other - softly now, brushing our lips - it was quite a tender moment. I felt so relaxed 
that I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep. It must have been an hour before waking. Michael was 
out the room. I heard the toilet flushing; the light was off. He appeared back, asking if I was all right. I 
informed him I was feeling wonderful, and invited him to lie with me again. We ended up kissing and 
caressing, but not with the same enthusiasm as witnessed before. I positioned myself on top, and we played 
at making love for a few moments. I think we were both a bit worried about the time, and the circumstance, 
more aware of the act - unable to relax now.  But we decided to end the evening, and called a taxi for me 
about 4 am. 

We parted, showing no embarrassment between us, agreeing we would arrange another evening. He 
expressed his worry about Tom, but I eased his concern - admitting that Tom would be more than happy. 

He gave me a curious look, but I think he understands.

To be truthful, I could not really ascertain whether he was lacking in experience - he seemed fine to me, but 
of course I am not an authority in these things - it was a wonderful experience - a memory I will hold and 
cherish fondly. 

Tom was in bed, but wide-awake when I arrived home. I beamed, literally beamed at him as I let him know 
that I was no longer a `virgin'. I remember saying that I would soon catch him up, referring to the fact he 
has had about eight lovers before me. He was shaking; trembling as I stood over our bed. I undressed, 
certainly not feeling like accommodating him inside me at this point - he made a grab for between my legs 
the instant I removed my pants - I could tell just how turned on he was. He kept asking me if I came, how 
big was Michael, how many times; Christ he was awash with questions. I never straddled his face like I had 
planned to do (somehow I just did not feel like doing so). He pulled me on him as soon as I had finished 
undressing, grabbing me with fervour. I don't think he knew what to do next. I suddenly wished to have 
him in me now - just quickly like I knew it would be - to feel the difference, while it was still clear in my 
head. I asked if he wanted to fuck me, knowing I'd had Michael. He wanted to lick me - but I just wanted 
to make him cum, then sleep. I allowed him to view me, between my legs, he pushed a finger into my 
(extreme) wetness - I did become aroused - thinking of the control I possessed, and he asked me the 
questions over again - wanting detail, every detail, as he continued to finger me - remarking that he could 
tell, that he knew by the sight of my open cunt I'd had sex (not that I'd denied it). He was all a-quiver, 
really. It was extraordinary, but not too unlike the way he is whilst fantasising about it. When I climbed on 
top of him and let him enter me, he came at once - quite powerfully - inside me. I must admit to being very 
excited at the thoughts I experienced, the idea that two men had ejaculated into me - not into a condom - 
but into me. Tom was attempting to draw himself out - as is normal practise for us - but I stopped him, and 
found it thrilling to dwell on this lurid image of their sperm mingling inside me.



Please send comments, remarks, complaints, praise, disgust, good cheer, .and whether you 
actually think there is more to life than taking vitamin C. DChatterly@Simpsons.com
1999 All rights reserved ?Dchatterly

