Deep Throat Virgin's First Anal

Paulina stepped out of her heels at the door of Hugo's apartment and still nearly met his eyes. At twenty-four she was the kind of beauty people turned to stare at—jet-black hair falling straight past her shoulders, pale skin that flushed at the throat, striking blue eyes that looked almost unreal under the lamp. In the heels she reached six feet. Barefoot she was still tall, but Hugo made the room feel smaller. He was twenty-eight, six foot four, and strong in a way that showed even when he was trying to be gentle: thick arms, a wide chest under a gray T-shirt, the easy stance of a man who lifted heavy things for a living and liked it. They had found each other only recently. A few weeks of dinners, of hands that lingered, of texts that got filthier after midnight. Long enough for the wanting to become a problem. Not long enough to pretend it was anything but new.

She had been clear with him. She intended to remain technically a virgin until marriage. The promise was hers, old and stubborn, and she was not ready to break it. Vaginal sex was the line they would not cross. Everything else, she had said on their last date, with her chin up and those blue eyes steady, was theirs if they both wanted it. Hugo had gone quiet in the way that meant he was already picturing her. Tonight they were alone in his apartment, the city a dull hush beyond the windows, and the air between them felt tight enough to snap.

He poured wine neither of them finished. She sat on the edge of his couch in a short black dress, one knee bouncing. His palm settled on her thigh, warm and heavy, and she laid her hand over his so he would not drift higher than they had agreed.

"I want you," she said. "I just don't want you in me there. Not yet."

"I know." His voice was low. "We don't have to. We can still ruin each other."

Her mouth curved. "Then ruin me. I've been thinking about your cock all day. How long it is. How thin, and how far it might go if I let it."

Hugo's jaw flexed. He was already hard under his pants, the shape of him obvious—very long, narrower than the rest of his body suggested, a length that looked almost unfair. She had felt it through clothes on the couch two nights ago and gone home aching. She had not yet taken it in her mouth. She wanted to learn.

"On your knees, if you want that," he said.

"I want that."

She slid off the couch and knelt on the rug between his spread knees. The dress rode up her pale thighs. Hugo stood, because kneeling while he sat would not give her the angle she needed for a cock that long, and she looked up the length of him as he freed himself. The sight made her breath catch. He was hard and flushed, the shaft slim enough that her fingers could nearly meet around it and long enough that her hand looked small on him. The head was smooth, already wet. He smelled like clean skin and heat.

"Go slow," he said. "Breathe through your nose. If you gag, that's fine. Pull off, spit, try again. I want you to take me to the root, but we get there together."

Paulina nodded, blue eyes bright, and opened her mouth. The first inch was easy, salt and warmth on her tongue. She sank further, lips stretching, and felt him nudge the back of her throat. Her body jerked. She pulled off, coughing once, a string of spit connecting her lower lip to his tip.

"Again," she said, before he could ask if she was all right. "Coach me."

"Relax your jaw. Tongue flat. When you feel the urge to gag, swallow around me instead of fighting it." His hand settled in her black hair, not forcing, just there. "You look incredible like this."

She took him deeper. The gag came sharper this time, eyes watering, but she held, throat fluttering, and managed another inch before she had to retreat. Drool slicked her chin and shone on his shaft. She wiped nothing away. The mess made her hotter. She tried again, and again, finding a rhythm: down until her throat seized, hold, swallow, up for air, down further. Hugo talked her through it in that low voice, telling her when to breathe, when to open, praising the wet sounds she made. On the fifth attempt something gave. Her nose brushed the base of him. Her lips met skin. She had him to the root, throat packed full of that long thin cock, tears on her lashes and spit running down her neck.

She held it. One second. Two. Then she pulled off gasping, a thick strand breaking across her chest.

"Fuck," Hugo said, wrecked. "Do that again."

She did. She learned the angle that let him slide past the tight place without as much fight, learned to hum so her throat opened, learned to take him all the way and stay there while he groaned above her. She deepthroated him until her jaw ached and her chin was a mess and both of them were shaking. When she finally came off him, lips swollen, she looked up with glassy blue eyes and said, hoarse, "I want more. I want you to take my ass. Tonight. I've never— I want you to be the first. Prone. Face down. I keep thinking about it."

Hugo's hand tightened in her hair, careful even now. "You're sure?"

"I'm begging you," Paulina said, and meant it. "Don't touch me there. The other place. Just my ass. I want to feel how long you are where it doesn't break my promise."

He kissed her filthy mouth once, tasting himself, and led her to the bedroom. The sheets were already rumpled from where he had sat that morning, a ridge of folded cotton bunched near the middle of the mattress. Paulina saw it and felt a pulse low in her belly she did not name yet. She stripped the dress over her head. No panties. She had come prepared, pale skin bare, black hair spilling as she climbed onto the bed and lay flat on her stomach the way she had asked for, hips slightly lifted, then settling when he told her to stay down.

"Prone bone," she murmured into the pillow. "I read about it. I want the weight of you."

"You'll have it." Hugo stripped, all that muscle bare, and knelt behind her. He warmed lube between his palms—plenty of it, because she was an anal virgin and he was long even if he was thin—and slicked himself until he shone. Two fingers, slow, circled her tight hole. She breathed out and pushed back, and he pressed one finger in, then two, working her open while she moaned into the sheets. He did not touch her pussy. His other hand stayed on her hip, grounding. When she was wet with lube and loosening around his fingers, he lined himself up.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"I will. I want it. Put it in."

The head breached her with a bright, stretching burn. Paulina gasped, fists knotted in the pillow, and Hugo held still, one hand stroking her lower back, murmuring that she was doing it, that she was taking him. The thinness helped. He was not splitting her the way a thicker man might have. The length was the challenge, inch after inch sliding into a place that had never held anything like him. He rocked, shallow, then deeper, lube easing the way, until her rim clung to him and her breath came in broken little sounds.

"More," she said. "All of it. I took you in my throat. I can take you here."

He gave her more. Slowly, firmly, he worked that long cock into her ass until his hips met the curve of her pale backside and she was full in a way that made her vision spark. She lay flat, pinned by his weight when he lowered himself over her, chest to her back, mouth at her ear. Prone, trapped in the best way, she could not lift her hips far. Every small shift dragged her clit—swollen, untouched by his hands, aching—against the folded ridge of sheet beneath her.

The first real thrust did it.

He drew back and pushed in, and the motion ground her down into that bunch of cotton. Her clit caught the fold and lit up. Paulina cried out, shocked, and clenched hard around him.

"Oh—oh, the sheet—" she managed. "Don't stop. Right there. It's hitting me."

Hugo understood. He set a rhythm that kept her pressed to the mattress, long strokes that buried him to the root in her ass and drove her clit against the rumpled cotton with every pump. The friction was filthy and perfect. She had not expected it. She had thought anal would be all stretch and fullness, a gift she was giving him while she waited. Instead pleasure cracked through her from two places at once: the deep, relentless slide of him in her ass, and the bright grinding of her clit on the folds.

Her first orgasm hit fast and huge. She shouted into the pillow, back arching as much as his weight allowed, ass clamping down on his cock in rhythmic pulses. Hugo groaned and kept moving, fucking her through it, and the continued drag on her clit tipped her straight into a second wave before the first had finished. She shook, pale thighs trembling, blue eyes squeezed shut, drool on the pillowcase from her open mouth.

"Again," she sobbed, not even sure what she was asking. "Harder. Fill me. I can feel how deep you are."

He pumped her firmly, the wet sound of lube and her body filling the room, muscles in his arms and back working as he held himself over her and drove that long thin cock in and out of her tight ass. Each thrust folded her against the sheets. Each withdrawal let her clit drag back over the ridge, and each return smashed her into it. She came a third time, louder, voice breaking, and the clench of her around him dragged a rough curse out of his chest.

"I'm close," he said against her hair. "You want it in you?"

"Yes. Pump me full. I want to feel it. All of it. Don't pull out."

He buried himself and came, hips jerking, thick pulses of cum flooding her ass. The heat of it made her whimper. He stayed deep, grinding her clit into the fold while he emptied, and she shuddered through another crest, smaller but sharp, milking him without meaning to.

He did not go soft for long. The sight of her—black hair tangled, pale skin flushed down her back, ass still stretched around him, his cum already trying to leak around the seal of her rim—kept him hard. He pulled back just enough to see the mess, then pushed in again, fucking his own cum deeper, and the slickness let him move faster.

"More," Paulina said, dazed and greedy. "I can take another. Give me another load. Please, Hugo."

He did. He fucked her prone and relentless, long strokes that reached places that made her toes curl, the head of him nudging deep while her clit never got a rest from the sheets. She came again, a cascading rush that made her cry out his name and claw at the mattress, ass fluttering around him so tight he had to slow or finish too soon. He didn't want soon. He wanted her wrecked. He held her hips and pumped, sweat dripping onto her spine, praising the way she took every inch, the way she stayed flat and let the bed do half the work on her clit.

The second orgasm of his hit harder. He drove in to the root and stayed, grinding, spilling another heavy load into her already full ass. She felt the added heat, the obscene fullness, cum squeezing out around his thin shaft no matter how deep he plugged her. It ran down toward the sheets and she didn't care. She was shaking, mouth open, blue eyes unfocused, another orgasm rolling through her because he would not stop moving even while he came.

"One more," he rasped, still hard enough, still inside her, the recovery of a man who had wanted this for weeks. "You can take one more. Tell me."

"Yes," she gasped. "Pump me full again. I want to be dripping. I want to feel you in me when I try to stand."

He gave her the third the way she asked, slower now, deep and deliberate, every thrust a full seating of that long cock in her cum-slick ass, every impact grinding her swollen clit into the folded cotton until she was sobbing through orgasms she could no longer count. When he came the last time he held her down and pumped, hips stuttering, filling her until she overflowed, cum leaking in warm pulses around him and soaking the sheet beneath her hips. He stayed buried through the last throb, chest heaving against her back, both of them wrecked.

Paulina lay flat and trembling on the soaked sheets, unable to close her legs, unable to do much besides breathe. Hugo's final deep thrust had left her ass overflowing, cum tracking warm over pale skin. Aftershocks rippled through her in soft clenches. Her blue eyes were glassy, mouth slack. He had never touched her pussy. The promise she meant to keep until marriage was intact. Her ass was not, and she loved the throb of it.

He kissed her shoulder. "You all right?"

"Better than all right," she rasped. "Don't let me move yet."

His weight stayed along her side. She smiled into the cotton, wrecked, and a sharper thought took shape behind those glassy eyes. Next time she would put him on his back, sink onto that long thin cock in reverse, and grind her clit on his thigh the way the folds had taught her until he pumped her full again. She was already scheming the text she would send tomorrow. Marriage could wait. They were only getting started.