Sarah's first women

A simple text from Carl.

**Sarah arrives Friday, 7 PM. Weekend pass approved. Prep for a guest.**

I spent Friday cleaning my modest apartment—a small, tidy one-bedroom. It was clean, functional. At 7:05 PM, the buzzer sounded.

Carl answered with a grin. “Sarah. Right on time.”

She stepped in. Mid-thirties, with a vibrant cascade of ginger hair, a spray of freckles, and warm green eyes that held a nervous, darting energy. She had a soft, curvy figure, her ample bust evident under a simple, high-necked sweater. She clutched a small weekend bag like a shield. Her eyes took in the room quickly before landing on me. She offered a timid smile.

“Sarah, this is Carrie,” Carl said, his hand on her lower back.

“H-hi,” she stammered, her voice melodic but tight.

“Welcome, Sarah.”

Carl kissed her forehead gently. “I've got to run out for the afternoon. Work stuff. Josh is coming by later tonight. You two get to know each other properly.” He gave my arm a familiar squeeze, a silent communication of trust and expectation, and then was gone.

The door clicked shut, sealing us in a sudden, heavy quiet.

For a long moment, Sarah just stood there, frozen by the door, her bag still in her hand. She looked like a startled deer caught in headlights, her chest rising and falling too quickly.

“You can put your bag in the bedroom,” I said, my voice deliberately calm and low.

“Oh. Okay.” She seemed to remember the bag, setting it down carefully by the sofa as if it were made of glass. She smoothed her sweater, her movements jerky. “Your home is very… clean.”

“Thank you. Would you like some tea? Or wine?”

“Wine,” she said, the word coming out in a rush. “Wine sounds wonderful.” It sounded like a plea for courage.

I poured two generous glasses of a rich cabernet and brought them to the sofa. She had settled on the very edge of a cushion, perched as if ready to flee. I sat at the other end, turning to face her, leaving a respectful space between us.

We sipped in silence for a few minutes. The wine seemed to work on her, the tight line of her shoulders softening by fractions. She took a deeper, more deliberate breath.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, not meeting my eyes, staring into the ruby depths of her glass. “I'm just… I'm not used to this. Any of this.”

“There's nothing to be used to,” I said. “You're just visiting.”

She gave a small, shaky laugh that held no humor. “Visiting. Right.” She finally looked at me, her green eyes huge and ****. “Carl showed me your pictures. The messages you send him. I… I couldn't believe it. That a woman could… could do that. Could *be* that.”

I waited, letting the silence invite her.

“My husband, David,” she began, her voice gaining a fragile thread of strength. “He's a good man. Kind. We've been married twelve years. Sex has always been… polite. Quick. In the dark. He tries, but… he's older. It's just not a priority for him. I thought that was just how it was. That my… feelings… were something to be quiet about. A problem with me.”

She took another fortifying sip.

“Then I met Carl and Josh. At the club, of all places. They were just… so different. So *there*. They talked to me like they already knew me. Knew what I was hiding.” Her cheeks flushed a deep, tell tale pink. “They took me to dinner. They were gentlemen. Charming. Then they took me to their hotel. I've never done anything like that before”

She fell silent, staring into her wine as if it were a scrying pool. When she spoke again, her voice dropped to a hushed, awed whisper, as if sharing a sacrament.

“It was my first time. With two men. A threesome.” She said the word as if it were both sacred and profane, testing its weight on her tongue. “I was terrified. And so excited I thought I might faint.”

“What was it like?” I asked, my own voice soft.

She leaned forward, the memory animating her. “Incredible. Overwhelming. I didn't know what to do with my hands, my mouth, my body. There was so much of them. So much attention. Josh took me from behind first, hard and fast, while Carl knelt in front of me, feeding me his cock. I felt so… *used*. In the best way. Like I was just a vessel for their pleasure. It was like my whole body woke up for the first time.”

“And you enjoyed it?”

“God, yes,” she breathed, her hand fluttering to her chest. “I came so hard I saw stars. I didn't even know I could come like that.” She bit her plump lower lip. “There was one thing… one thing that surprised me more than anything. How much I *wanted* it.”

“What was that?”

Her flush deepened, spreading down her neck. “They both finished on my face. At the same time. It was the first time I'd ever had a facial. I'd seen it in porn, of course, but I never thought… I never imagined I'd want it. But when Josh pulled out of me and stood over me, and Carl moved to join him, and they both started stroking themselves… I opened my mouth without thinking. I *needed* it. I needed to feel it on my skin.”

She touched her cheek as if she could still feel the phantom warmth.

“It was so warm. So thick. So much of it. It dripped into my hair, onto my neck, into my eyelashes. I licked what I could from my lips. I felt so… marked. So claimed. I couldn't stop thinking about it for days. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them standing over me, covering me.” She looked at me, her expression one of bewildered discovery. “It was the hottest thing I've ever experienced.”

“It becomes addictive,” I said. “That feeling of being claimed. Of wearing your use.”

“Yes,” she sighed, the sound full of longing. “It does. I find myself daydreaming about it. About being on my knees, looking up, waiting for it.” She took a long drink, gathering courage. Her gaze grew more intense, more focused on me. “What about you? What do you enjoy most? When there's more than one?”

I considered her question, wanting to give her an honest map of the territory she was entering. “Being filled completely. Both holes at once. The double penetration.”

Her eyes widened, a flicker of fear and fierce curiosity in them. “What's that like? *Really?* I've… I've imagined it, but I don't know if I could actually…”

“It's total occupation,” I said, my voice level and descriptive. “There's no emptiness left. You're stretched in two directions, full in a way that single penetration can never achieve. One man in your pussy, one in your ass. They find a rhythm, sometimes together, sometimes alternating. You're just the space between them. The conduit. You can't think. You can only feel and take.”

She shivered visibly, her nipples hardening against her sweater. “Does it hurt?”

“The first time, yes. It burns. You have to relax, to breathe through it, to let them open you up. But once they're both inside, once you adjust… it's the most complete feeling in the world. You're solved. Finished. There's no part of you that isn't being used, no desire that isn't being answered by that sheer, overwhelming fullness.”

She set her wine glass down with a soft *clink*, her hand trembling slightly. “I want that. I think. I'm scared, but I *want* it.”

“It's a significant threshold,” I said. “But if you trust them, it can be… transformative.”

She was quiet for a moment, her mind clearly racing. Then she asked, her voice smaller, as if inquiring about a distant myth, “What about… gangbangs? Have you ever…?”

“Oh Yes, I've had loads of them.”

Her breath caught. “How many guys have you had in one go”

“Seven so far. That was last weekend.”

“Seven” she repeated, the number hanging in the air, awestruck. “How… how do you survive that? How do you handle it?”

“You don't handle it,” I explained. “You surrender to it. You stop counting. You stop thinking. You just go with the flow, let them do what they want. Mouth, pussy, ass, hands, the space between your breasts. They take turns. Sometimes they double up. By the end, you're so full you can barely move. Every hole is packed, dripping. Your skin is sticky. Your muscles ache. And you feel… a profound peace. Completely used. Completely empty of any will of your own. It's a deep, quiet stillness.”

She stared at me, her green eyes wide and hungry, absorbing every word. “I can't imagine being that… that brave. That open.”

“It's not bravery,” I corrected gently. “It's surrender. Once you surrender completely, there's nothing left to be afraid of. The fear is in the holding back.”

The afternoon sun had shifted, painting long golden rectangles across the carpet. The space between us on the sofa felt charged, thinner. She had inched closer without either of us noticing, drawn by the magnetic pull of shared confession.

She reached out and touched my hand where it rested on my knee. Her fingers were cool from the wine glass. “Will you be there? This weekend? When they… when I try new things?”

“If Carl wants me there, I will be.”

“I want you there,” she said, her voice suddenly earnest, firm. “I want to watch you. Learn from you. Maybe…” She hesitated, her courage wavering for a second before solidifying. “Maybe even share with you.”

The words hung in the air between us, thick with implication. Her gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. The curiosity there had morphed into something warmer, more specific.

“You're curious,” I stated, not asking.

“I'm *terrifyingly* curious,” she admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me. Her hand remained on mine. “I think about it at night. What it would feel like to be kissed by a woman. To be touched by soft hands instead of rough ones. To taste someone who tastes like me.”

I reached out with my free hand and gently tucked a strand of fiery ginger hair behind her ear. My fingertips brushed the delicate shell, and she shivered at the touch, her eyes fluttering half-closed.

“Would you like to find out?” I asked, my voice low and even.

She looked at me, searching my face for a long, suspended moment. The last vestiges of timid hesitation melted away, burned up by the heat of her own awakening hunger. She nodded, a small, decisive movement.

“Yes.”

I leaned in slowly, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn't. Her breath hitched, warm and sweet with wine, against my lips. When our mouths met, it was soft at first—a tentative, exploring press.

She made a small, surprised sound against my lips, a muffled whimper of pleasure. Her hand tightened on mine. I deepened the kiss, parting her lips with my tongue. She responded immediately, eagerly, her free hand coming up to cup my jaw, her fingers trembling.

We broke apart after a long moment, both of us breathing harder. A string of saliva briefly connected our lips before breaking.

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide and dazed. “Oh, that was…”

“Good?”

“*Incredible*.” She licked her lips, consciously tasting the remnant of me. “Can we… again?”

I answered by kissing her again, more confidently this time. My hand moved from her hair to her chest, cupping the full weight of her breast through the soft wool of her sweater. She gasped into my mouth, her back arching subtly to push herself more firmly into my touch.

“God,” she murmured against my lips. “That's… that's so good.”

I squeezed gently, feeling the generous swell, the hard peak of her nipple pressing against the fabric. I brushed my thumb back and forth across it, and she moaned outright, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to surprise her, breaking the kiss to throw her head back against the sofa cushion.

“I've never… no one's ever touched me like this,” she panted, her chest heaving. “So gentle but so… *knowing*.”

“You respond beautifully,” I said, my hand continuing its exploration. I traced the generous curve of her breast, the swell of her side, the dip of her waist through her clothes.

She reached for me then, her hand finding my own breast, mirroring my touch. “Is this okay?” she asked, her voice shy again despite the boldness of her action.

“More than okay.”

She squeezed experimentally, then more firmly, her thumb seeking and finding my nipple through the thin cotton of my shirt. I let out a soft, approving sigh, and her face lit up with a radiant, triumphant smile.

“I'm making you feel good,” she said, wonder in her voice.

“You are.”

Emboldened, she leaned in and kissed me again, her hand more confident now, kneading my breast with growing enthusiasm. I responded in kind, letting my hand slip under the hem of her sweater, finding the warm, soft skin of her stomach. She inhaled sharply as my fingers made contact. I slid my hand upward, over her ribcage, until I cupped her bare breast beneath the lace of her bra.

She gasped at the direct skin-on-skin contact. “Your hands are so soft,” she whispered, her voice ragged. “So different from theirs.”

I found the front clasp of her bra with practiced ease and released it. The lace fell away, and she let out a surprised, breathy laugh.

“Smooth.”

“Practice,” I acknowledged.

I pushed her sweater up, gathering it, and she raised her arms cooperatively, letting me pull it over her head and toss it aside. She sat before me, bare from the waist up. Her breasts were full and heavy, beautifully pale with large, pink areolas and nipples that were peaked and eager. I lowered my head and took one into my mouth.

She cried out, her hand flying to my hair, not pushing me away but clutching me to her. “Oh fuck. Oh *fuck*, Carrie. That's… oh god…”

I lavished attention on her, licking and sucking, alternating between gentle nips and broad, flat strokes of my tongue. I paid equal homage to the other breast, feeling her writhe beneath my mouth, her hips bucking slightly against the sofa cushions, her moans growing louder, less restrained, filling the quiet apartment.

“I had no idea,” she gasped, her head thrashing side to side on the cushion. “No idea it could feel like this. I've been missing *so much*.”

I pulled back, looking up at her flushed face, her glazed eyes, her kiss-swollen lips. “You have a lot of catching up to do.”

She laughed, a breathless, joyful sound. “Will you help me catch up?”

I kissed her again, deep and slow and promising. My hand slid from her breast down to her thigh, squeezing through her jeans. “All weekend,” I vowed against her lips.

I took her hand and stood, pulling her gently to her feet. Her wine glass was forgotten on the table. Her eyes were dark with want, her lips slightly swollen from our kisses.

"Come with me," I said softly.

She followed without hesitation, her hand trembling in mine. I led her down the short hallway to my bedroom. The room was simple—a queen bed with plain white sheets, a wooden dresser, soft lamplight. I closed the door behind us, sealing us in the quiet intimacy of the space.

Sarah stood in the center of the room, her arms wrapped around herself, suddenly shy again despite what we had just shared downstairs.

"You're beautiful," I said, meaning it.

She blushed, the pink spreading across her freckled cheeks. "I feel nervous. Like it's my first time all over again."

"It is, in a way. Your first time with a woman. There's no rush."

I stepped closer and reached for the hem of her sweater. She lifted her arms, letting me pull it over her head. Her bra was already undone from earlier, and I slid the straps down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

She stood before me, bare from the waist up. Her breasts were full and heavy, pale with pink nipples that tightened under my gaze. She had a soft, womanly body—curves that spoke of comfort and warmth, not gym discipline. I found her utterly beautiful.

"Your turn," she whispered, her hands reaching for my shirt.

I let her undress me, watching her face as she revealed my body. Her eyes traveled over my breasts, my stomach, the curve of my hips. She swallowed.

"You're so… fit. So perfect."

"I'm functional," I said. "Like you."

She shook her head but didn't argue. Instead, she stepped forward and pressed her naked chest against mine. The sensation of skin on skin, breast against breast, made both of us sigh.

"God, that's nice," she murmured.

I guided her to the bed, laying her back against the white sheets. She looked up at me, her ginger hair spread across the pillow, her green eyes wide and trusting. I climbed onto the bed beside her, propping myself on an elbow.

"I'm going to touch you now," I said. "Everywhere. And I want you to tell me what feels good."

She nodded, her breath quickening.

I started with her breasts, cupping them, weighing them in my hands. She sighed, arching into my touch. I lowered my head and took her right nipple into my mouth, laving it with my tongue before sucking gently.

"Oh," she breathed. "Oh, yes."

I alternated between gentle suction and firm licks, circling the areola, then focusing on the sensitive peak. Her hand came up to cradle my head, her fingers threading through my hair.

"That's… that's so good. Don't stop."

I moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention. She was moaning openly now, her hips beginning to shift restlessly against the sheets.

"Please," she whispered. "More."

I kissed down her stomach, tracing a path with my tongue. She shivered at each touch, her skin hypersensitive. When I reached the waistband of her jeans, I looked up at her.

"Lift your hips."

She obeyed immediately. I unfastened her jeans and pulled them down, along with her plain cotton panties. She lay before me completely naked, her ginger curls a neat triangle between her thighs.

I settled between her legs, my hands resting on her inner thighs. "You're beautiful here too."

She blushed deeper but didn't look away. "I've never… no woman has ever seen me like this."

"Then let me show you what you've been missing."

I lowered my head and pressed my mouth to her. She gasped, her hips jerking. I started slowly, broad strokes of my tongue through her folds, learning her taste. She was sweet and musky, the flavor of her arousal coating my lips.

"Oh god," she whimpered. "Oh god, Carrie."

I focused on her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue. Her hand flew to my hair, gripping tightly. Her moans grew louder, more urgent.

"Yes, yes, right there, don't stop—"

I didn't stop. I kept a steady rhythm, alternating between circles and flicks, occasionally dipping lower to taste her entrance. She was soaking wet, her desire evident in every gasp and shudder.

"I'm going to—I'm so close—"

I pressed two fingers to her entrance and pushed inside.

She cried out, her back arching off the bed. I curled my fingers, finding that spot inside her, while my tongue continued its work on her clit. It took only moments.

She came with a scream, her body convulsing around my fingers, her juices flooding my hand. I worked her through it, gentling my touch as she came down, her breathing ragged.

"Fuck," she panted, staring at the ceiling. "Fuck. That was… I've never come like that. Never."

I crawled up beside her, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her lips. She tasted herself on my mouth and moaned.

"I want to taste you," she said, her voice raw with need. "Let me return the favor."

I lay back, and she positioned herself between my legs, her movements awkward but eager. She looked up at me, a question in her eyes.

"Just follow what feels natural," I said. "Use your tongue. Use your fingers. Explore."

She lowered her head hesitantly, her first touch tentative. A soft lick, exploring. Then another, bolder. She found my clit and circled it experimentally, looking up at me for approval.

"Just like that," I breathed. "Yes."

She gained confidence, her tongue moving more firmly, more purposefully. She slipped a finger inside me, then two, mimicking what I had done to her. I moaned, my hips rocking against her face.

"Good girl," I gasped. "You're a natural."

She redoubled her efforts, her tongue working my clit while her fingers pumped inside me. I felt the familiar coil tightening in my belly.

"I'm close," I warned.

She didn't stop. She pushed harder, faster, **** to bring me over the edge. I came with a cry, my hand gripping her hair, my body shuddering through the release.

She emerged from between my legs, her chin glistening, her eyes bright with triumph and wonder.

"I made you come," she said, amazed.

"You did."

She crawled up and kissed me, sharing the taste of me on her lips. "That was incredible. I want to do it again. I want to make you come again and again."

I rolled us over, pinning her beneath me. "Then let me teach you more."

I spent the next hour exploring her body with methodical devotion. I showed her how to touch herself while I watched, then guided her hand to show me how she liked it. I fingered her pussy slowly, then faster, building her to another peak and sending her crashing over. I circled her asshole with a slick finger and then pushed inside.

She gasped at the intrusion but didn't tell me to stop. "mmmm"

She moaned as I moved my finger inside her, curling it. "Oh. Oh, that's…"

I added a second finger to her pussy, filling both holes, moving in counterpoint. She came again, a shuddering, sobbing release that left her limp and trembling.

By the time the afternoon light had shifted to gold, she had come six times. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, her ginger hair plastered to her forehead, her eyes glassy and sated.

She lay beside me, her head on my shoulder, her hand tracing lazy patterns on my stomach.

"I had no idea," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying out. "No idea my body could do that. No idea I could feel that good."

"There's more," I said. "This weekend, there's so much more."

She tilted her head up to look at me, her expression soft and wondering. "Will you be there? For all of it?"

"If Carl wants me there, yes."

"I want you there," she said firmly. "I want to experience everything with you. You've unlocked something in me, Carrie. Something I didn't know was there."

I kissed her forehead. "Then we have a lot to explore."

She snuggled closer, her body warm and spent against mine. Outside, the sun continued its slow descent, painting the room in shades of amber and rose. We lay together in the quiet, two women bound by shared hunger and newfound trust, waiting for the night to begin.

I pulled back, my lips glistening from her skin. Her chest was heaving, her nipples dark and pebbled from my attention. I traced a finger from her sternum down over the gentle curve of her belly, coming to rest just above her ginger curls.

“You asked what would happen this weekend,” I said, my voice a low, intimate murmur in the quiet room. “Now that you’re here. Now that you’ve asked for it.”

She swallowed, her eyes fixed on mine, full of fearful anticipation. “Tell me.”

“First,” I began, my finger drawing a slow circle on her stomach. “Tonight, when Josh gets here, it will be about you. They’ll want to break you in properly. They’ll use your mouth, your pussy, and your ass again. They’ll cover you. They’ll make sure you remember who you belong to.”

A full-body shiver wracked her. Not from fear, but from a deep, resonant need. “Yes.”

“Tomorrow,” I continued, shifting so I was straddling her thighs, looking down at her flushed, beautiful face. “Tomorrow afternoon, after they’ve used you all morning and left you sore and dripping… I’ll come to you. And you’re going to taste something new.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “What?”

“You’re going to eat Carl’s spunk out of me.”

Her eyes flew wide. Her lips parted on a silent gasp. I saw the shock, the disbelief, and then, blooming behind it, a dark, thrilling curl of arousal.

“You’ll lay me back, just like this,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ll push my legs apart. You’ll see it leaking out of me. And you’ll lean in, and you’ll lick me clean. You’ll taste him and me mixed together. You’ll swallow every drop. It will be your first time tasting a man from a woman’s body. It will change you.”

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her hips giving an involuntary jerk beneath me. “I… I want that. I think I really want that.”

“I know you do,” I said, leaning down to kiss her, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of shared desire. “And once you’ve done that, once you’ve proven you can take that… then you’ll be ready for the next step.”

I kissed down her neck, over her collarbone, between her breasts, my words vibrating against her skin. “Tomorrow night. Carl and Josh will take you together. They’ll lay you out, slick you up, and they’ll fill you. Both holes. At the same time. They’ll give you the double penetration you’re so curious about. They’ll solve you. They’ll finish you. You’ll be so full you won’t be able to breathe. You’ll come until you can’t tell one convulsion from the next. You’ll be theirs, completely.”

Her hands came up to clutch my back, her nails digging in slightly. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she pictured it.

“And then,” I said, finally reaching her ear, my lips brushing the sensitive shell. “Sunday. The finale. Laura is coming.”

“Laura?” she whispered.

“Laura is Josh's wife. You’ll like her. She’s fierce. She can take almost as much as I can, she is also my girlfriend” I nipped her earlobe gently. “The five of us. You, me, Laura, Carl, Josh. A long, slow, all-day session. They’ll use all of us. Every hole. They’ll switch us around. They might fuck you while you eat me out. They might have Laura ride your face while Josh takes you from behind. They’ll cum on us, in us, over us. We’ll be a pile of used, satisfied flesh by the end of it. You’ll lose count of how many times you come. You’ll forget your own name. You’ll just be a set of holes, being put to perfect, relentless use.”

I pulled back to look at her. Tears were leaking from the corners of her eyes, tracking through her freckles. But she was smiling—a wide, awestruck, ecstatic smile.

“It sounds… it sounds perfect,” she choked out. “It sounds like everything I’ve ever wanted and never knew how to ask for.”

“It will be,” I promised, lowering myself to kiss the tears from her cheeks. “This weekend, Sarah, you’re going to learn exactly what you are. You’re going to be used, filled, shared, and claimed in ways you’ve only dreamed of. And you’re going to love every single second of it.”

She pulled me down into a ****, hungry kiss, her body arching up against mine, no longer timid, but ravenous and ready.

“Thank you,” she breathed against my mouth. “Thank you for showing me. For being my guide.”

“My pleasure,” I murmured, and then I showed her again, with my hands and my mouth, just how much pleasure there was to be found in surrender. The weekend, and all its promised devotions, had already begun.