I was seventeen or thereabouts, in college and considering my options once my two years were up there. In my downtime I’d been invited around to the local ice rink by my friends, who, seeing how useless I was on the ice, had quickly abandoned me to keep falling over while they went around and around doing laps as perfectly as they could.
It was while I was flat on my backside for the umpteenth time that she came gliding up to a halt beside me and offered a hand up.
“You're new at this, aren’t you?” she asked pleasantly enough as she helped me up. “Ever done this before?”
She was a tall, athletic-looking young woman, with a classically 1980s blonde perm hairdo that was still the rage in the early 90s. She was dressed for the cold with a thick jacket but she wore leopard print leggings, which I guessed must have helped keep the heat in over her legs. And what legs: long and from the muscle tone, I guessed she either ice skated a lot or did other things like sprinting. I’d find out later she was eighteen but under the harsh lighting looked a little older; the cold might have added to that. I think we all did; even my friends, most of whom were slightly younger than I was, looked older.
“No, first time,” I said as I steadied myself. “Everyone’s left me in embarrassment.”
“It’s probably not that,” she laughed. “Well, maybe a little, but a lot of kids don’t just come here to skate.” She nodded towards one of the rows of seats way near the back where it was darker and some kids could be seen kissing and fumbling. “That's what a lot of the kids come here for.”
“Looks like quite the icebreaker,” I said.
“Ha! Yeah, I guess it can be. You going to be okay?”
“I’ve not a clue what I’m doing if I’m honest.”
“Tell you what, take my hand, and I’ll show you the ropes. I’m Pamela, by the way.”
I gladly accepted and after introductions were made she pulled me along with her, giving brief instructions while I followed her feet. My coordination still left a lot to be desired and I wound up crashing into the sides of the rink as I misjudged turns, occasionally getting some jeers from the teens on the ‘Make Out Bench’. But Pamela was always there to give me a pep talk if needed and help me up. By the end of the hour, I was far from skating like a pro, but at least I wasn’t falling over at the slightest provocation. When I did, she was always there to help me up and gave me some good pointers. She was always good at instructions, and that smile only ever encouraged me to do better.
There was the time I wound up falling so badly, we wound up both going down and sliding into a barrier. Thankfully my body took the brunt of it and Pamela was her usually jovial self about it.
Weeks flew by, and Pamela and I were proving to be pretty inseparable. Her tutelage was improving my skating drastically even if it was only a couple of sessions a week. Until one night she told me something I probably should have seen coming.
“So, I’ve got news,” she told me as I slipped off my shoes, her face beaming with joy. “I’ve made it! I’m on the skating team! I’ll be going to compete in the locals, and then the nationals, and then, god knows, internationals!”
We hugged, not for the first time, but this felt a fair bit different. The next thing we knew we were staring at one another's eyes; I’d never noticed just how light blue her eyes were before, or how much they sparkled. But the next thing we knew we were planting kisses on one another's lips, then the next thing we knew we’d found ourselves inside the girls' toilets locking a stall door behind us, and fumbling to free enough of our clothes.
Pamela’s athletic legs extended to the rest of her body; with her coat unzipped and her shirt pushed up over her head as she leaned back on the toilet seat, her exposed midriff was a flat, toned belly you could swear was made of marble. Her breasts were small, round and firm, a good handful each with tiny little nipples; I don’t think she realised it, but she taught me the meaning of ‘a perfect handful’. At least that’s what I recall thinking inside my head as I played with them while she pulled open my jeans, smiling like the Cheshire cat all the time.
She pushed my jeans down around my ankles, quickly repeated the process with my boxers, then got slapped on her nose by my cock as it sprang free.
“You could hang towels on that thing!” she whispered before she slipped the purple head between her lips and worked her head back and forth, getting more and more of my cock's length inside her. I heard her gag as the helmet touched what I had to guess was the back of her throat. My hands braced themselves against the walls of the stall; I had no idea what to do in this case as Pamela worked her mouth around my cock. I could feel her tongue doing something to my foreskin; was it inside? Between the foreskin and the helmet?
Whatever she was doing, she knew how to do it, while I found myself making all kinds of bizarre whimpering noises like a pleading puppy dog begging for a treat. And what a treat I was getting as her nose pushed against my pubes and I felt my helmet pushing against something small and tight.
“God! You’re a girthy bastard!” Pamela whispered as she pulled herself free of blowjob duties, giving my cock several good tugs. “Not sure what it’s going to take to get you down my throat.”
I was pretty sure something was going to go down her throat if she kept doing what she’d been doing. She quickly resumed blowing me, even treating me to some humming, which damn near blew my mind if not my balls just at that moment.
That happened a moment later when she squeezed my balls, while humming with her tongue doing that thing between my foreskin and my helmet. I heard her gag as I felt my cock blast away inside her mouth like an over-pumped super soaker. I kind of lost track of reality as I grunted and went almost blind.
“Are you alright?” I heard Pamela's voice snap me out of it. “I’ve never seen a guy's eyes roll back inside his head from, well, anything before. Was it that good?”
“Uh-huh,” I managed.
I was torn as to whether or not I should tell her that had not just been my first blowjob ever, but my first sex act ever. I had no real way to know if anyone else gave better head, but at that point, who would care? My cock was still twitching as she still played with it, like a horse handler might settle a panicked stallion. I blinked to get back some focus and looked at her. She had some of my cum dribbling down one side of her lips. She saw me looking at it and smiled as she used a finger to wipe it up, then sucked it off her finger.
“Remind you of anything?” she asked, winking. I just nodded, still in what I had to figure was shellshock of a type. She leaned back on the toilet and lifted her long legs up, pulling her leggings around her ankles. “Your turn.”
I looked down at her perfectly present pussy. She’d gone commando, not something I’d have expected in an ice rink, and wondered briefly if she’d always gone like that to the rink. She had dark pubes over her crotch; I’d suspected she wasn’t a natural blonde, but her pussy lips were shaved perfectly. The hairless look wasn’t really a thing at this point in time, at least not in my neck of the woods. My days in university would be a different matter, by which time the Brazilian had taken the world by storm and still has plenty under its thrall.
But here I was, confronted with a gorgeous, athletic woman contorting herself over a toilet seat in a semi-public toilet in an ice rink, presenting her pussy for me to play with, having given me my first sexual experience ever, and here I was, not knowing just what the hell to do. Her pussy was mesmerising, so perfectly pink and so small looking. I had no idea if she’d ever had a cock inside her before and I found myself wondering just how something so small could open up to take a cock, but she certainly seemed to be expecting me to do something. Had she been one of the kids on the benches in her time?
I knelt down, my face close to her slick lips; I could almost smell her juices. As I looked over the first pussy I had ever seen in the wild, I realised it was a truly beautiful sight. I flicked at one of her lips with a fingertip, then did the same to the other before I pressed my fingertip down between them. As Pamela moaned as my finger slipped inside, I could feel her wetness; she was clearly looking forward to this.
But I still felt utterly clueless as to what I should do. Would she give me instructions? Would she be insulted if I asked? Would that end the encounter and I’d not see her ever again?
I decided to wing it, and just ran my tongue along her lips as if I was clearing up the gravy on a plate. My tongue tip ran against her clit, quite by accident, but both acts she seemed to like, judging from the noises she made. I repeated my plate-cleaning motion.
“AH!” she gasped as my tongue tip teased her clit again. “Ak! Oh yes, keep doing that.”
I obliged, but pushed my finger in some more, and as this got some more favourable moans, I slipped another in as my tongue worked around exclusively on her clit for a while.
“Ohhh!” she moaned as my tip started tapping away on her clit like a drunken Morse code operator, while I spread both fingers to separate her cunt lips.
“Uuhhh,” she muttered as her lips parted. I got the feeling I was doing something right, and started pushing my fingers back and forth inside her like a piston while my tongue pushed down on her clit some more, trying to replicate with her clit and its hood with my tongue what hers had done with my foreskin.
“Eeek!” I tried to suckle at her clit hood as if my mouth was a vacuum cleaner, but it was a little too tight for that so I settled for licking away at the clit as much as I could.
“That’s like a dog licking up a bowl of water!” she whispered. “But I love it, keep doing it.” I obliged, while trying to stick in a third finger. “No, that’s too much, too much right now,” her voice croaked, her hands reaching down and trying to pull my digits free from her.
I looked up; my eyes had been pretty much staring at her belly button, admiring how her abs tensed as her legs moved and my unskilled ministrations somehow worked her clit to a frenzy. I could see her small breasts, each bouncing like a tennis ball in a tight bag. Her nipples had pulled together into such tight little nubs they’d almost vanished. My free hand reached out to play with them, not wanting them left out, while her hands kept her legs held up high around her head as she panted, occasionally biting her lips.
Have I mentioned just how good she tasted? For all I was clueless as to what I was really doing down here, I was enjoying lapping up her nectar, and could have quite happily stayed down there for hours. I was hoping every woman I ate tasted this fine. It was hard to compare its taste to anything else, but it was quite addictive.
A sudden doubt crossed my mind; was I really any good down here? Or was Pamela just being nice to me? My cock was still hard, not as hard as before, but it showed no signs of weakening. I desperately wanted to push that inside those beautiful pink walls of her cunny and see how it felt to have them wrapped around my shaft.
I settled for pushing my two fingers back inside her as if they were a cock, and hammered them back and forth before I felt their tips brush up against something within her insides, near the front. Inquisitive, I curled them around a little and pushed them against it. From the size and position I guessed it was her public bone, but there was something else in that area that when I touched it, just made Pamela slap her hands over her mouth to stifle her moans. Her eyes had popped open in shock, but as I looked up at her I saw her legs quickly drop and wrap around my head, pulling my face in closer. I kept curling my fingers, pushing them against this magical little spot while my tongue kept doing its thing against her clit.
Pamela’s legs dropped on either side of me as her whole body went into wild, uncontrollable shakes. Her hands seemed to be the only part of her she could control as she clasped them harder against her mouth, barely hiding her moans as her eyes fought to look at me while I continued to tap away at her clit while my fingers did whatever I could think of to her magic little button.
So, tonight had been a night of firsts. Not my first kiss; that had technically been in a game of ‘catch a kissy’, which is kind of like ‘tag’ but with kissing instead, and yes, everyone involved had consented first. But it had been my first time for getting some head, and giving some.
“God, you really enjoyed doing that, didn’t you?” Pamela asked between deep breaths. “Never known anyone like doing it like that so much. Give me a kiss.”
And I obliged and we spent the next few minutes letting our tongues slowly play around, passing back her goodness between our lips. She looked down at my powerful erection and had me sit down on the toilet; she sat side saddle over my thigh and used her hand to jerk me off. When I came, I erupted like a geyser and somehow she managed to catch it all in the palm of her other hand while she kept jerking me off. Then she lapped up the pooled cum like a hungry kitten would some milk.
“I wonder what’s in your diet?” she joked after she swallowed it all, sticking out her tongue to show what a good little naughty girl she’d been before we kissed again.
“Only thing I want to eat is you,” I said during a little break before we resumed kissing.
“You know the one problem we have here?” Pamela asked, smiling as she looked at the toilet roll holder. “No one replaced the toilet paper.”
Pamela and I continued to have rendezvous for about a year or so while I was in college, before her career took off while I headed to university. We lost touch during my first year there, but by then I had found someone else, who taught me some other naughty things.
