Sex as I Recall - Guy New York - ebook

Writing about sex (especially formative experiences) is a complicated endeavor, yet one which Guy New York pulls off beautifully and honestly. This collection of personal short stories spans new relationships, brief encounters, sorrow, regret, and exuberant lust-filled connections which hang in the balance between reality and imagination.  Touching, erotic, and not without complications, the stories will delight, entice, and remind you what it’s like to discover something entirely new.

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Guy New York

Sex as I Recall

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© 2018, Guy New York

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

QNY Publishing

Brooklyn, NY

Table of contents


The Bathtub

Her Best Friend

The Last Party

A Kiss on the First Day of School

The Tree

They Might Be Giants

A Fighting Chance

Back of the Bus

Always Her Sister

A Blowjob, A Virgin, and a Swimming Pool

An Education

First Times

About The Author

The Bathtub

I can see the light shining through the window. The curtain is old and yellow, and the wooden frame surrounding the warped glass is chipped white paint.

But none of that is important, because she’s lying against me in the hot water of the bath. We have an old claw-foot tub that is probably older than my grandfather, but it’s deep and it holds us both. For a moment I wonder how I ended up there, naked in the tub with an eighteen-year-old girl wrapped up in my arms as I kiss her hair and slide my hands up her soapy breasts.

I’m a year older, but she’s smarter than I am and we both know it. I can’t do anything but look and feel, but I suspect she’s thinking something. Her mind is probably going somewhere I can’t begin to comprehend, and I guess it doesn’t matter.

Before we crawled into the tub, we had never so much as kissed. We were friends who took long walks and had long talks over diner coffee. And if I stared at her when she leaned over on occasion, she was decent enough to ignore me.

But now, on a spring afternoon, the walking is done. My silly suggestion is met with a soft yes as we walk up the old stairs to the bathroom. She stands in the doorway looking at the light as it bounces off the dilapidated fixtures, but before I can say anything, she pulls her t-shirt off over her head and rests it on the wicker basket which holds our towels. Her jeans follow quickly, and when she turns to face me, it's with a joyful grin and a splash of freckles.

I run the water before undressing, and then our two teenage bodies slip into the warm wet tub as easily as we do everything else.

When I touch her hand, she leans back and sighs. When my fingers slide against her thigh beneath the water, she parts her legs. As I grow hard against her back, she turns and kisses my cheek before finally finding my mouth.

Our kiss is delicate and sweet. Fingers grace my chin and cheek. A hand slides between thighs without grasping or pushing and all I remember is the feel of her wet skin against my body because nothing had ever felt better.

Somehow she turns over as I slide under the water and her hair blocks the sun. Or rather, her hair lets the sun pass through it casting a shadow on my chest which she traces with her fingers. I want to watch, and I want to pay attention, but she’s now sitting on top of me, and I’m so hard I want to tell her I love her.

When she leans down to kiss me, she slides ever so slowly up and down my length, and I realize I have no idea if she’s done this before. Or even if we’re going to do it now. We’re so close, but she is a woman who can make choices and change her mind, and I’m willing to do anything at all because it’s already perfect.

But when she sits back up it’s to take me in one hand and rub me against her parted flesh. She smiles and blushes as she holds me firmly, and every once in a while she closes her eyes and lets me enter her a bit.

Somehow I hold onto the edges of the porcelain tub instead of her ass. Somehow I manage not to lurch at her or thrust up or do anything at all to break the spell that is her closed eyes and her deep and beautiful concentration. I want to kiss her breasts or her shoulder, but she’s teasing me, and she’s teasing herself; the agony is everlasting.

At least until she opens her eyes.

She leans in and kisses me once more, but now she no longer needs her hand. I can feel myself enter her, and I don’t know what to do. Ever so slowly she lowers herself down around me as I penetrate her and fill her, and sex is unimaginable. Even as it’s happening, I don’t understand the sensations or the emotions. I’m not equipped to comprehend her gesture and her movement.

But when she’s done, my cock is buried within her until there is nothing to see; her smile vanishes.

The waves begin as she slides up and down on me, and I think to myself that I’m fucking. We’re fucking.

Is she fucking me or am I fucking her? Does it matter?

But it’s happening all the same, and I can’t believe it. Even as I watch through the blurry bath water, seeing plainly that I’m inside her, I don’t believe it. She’s too pretty and too smart. She’s kind-hearted but not the type of girl to sleep with a boy so poor his bathroom doesn’t have a door.

Her hand on my throat makes all of it real in an instant as I gasp. My eyes open wide, but all I see is her smile, and all I feel is her body clenching around me. She squeezes harder, and I struggle for breath as she grinds down around me, and for a millisecond or less, I see something dangerous in her eyes. I see murder and lust and her pelvic bone hurts as she crushes me.

I grow dizzy as she slides up until I’m barely inside her, and I wonder if I’m going to faint. It would be worth it–I know even in that moment of disbelief, but it doesn’t matter.

A second later she lets go of my throat as she sits back down onto me and screams. It’s not a moan or a sigh, but a scream as she begins to come and I can’t hold back. I grab her for the first time, taking her ass in my hands as I thrust up and bury my face between her breasts. Her head is thrown back, and she’s still making so much noise I wonder if she’s okay. I can feel her clenching though, and I didn’t know that could happen.

But I come harder than I’ve ever come on my own, and I realize that I’ve never done it on my back before. I’m holding her, but the only thing on my cock is the inside of her warm, wet body, and it doesn’t make sense in the slightest. The dizziness returns as I feel the blood and the come and the rest of me shoot out in a release unlike anything other.

I too lean my head back and cry out as she grabs my shoulders and lets out one long last sound before leaning forward and kissing my forehead.

I can tell I’m growing soft inside her, but she doesn’t move. The water is no longer hot, or even warm, but there is nothing we can do. She holds me and laughs in small bursts as though she keeps finding something new that is funny.

When she finally sits up and brushes her blonde hair back, it’s with a smile.

“I didn’t know you fucked,” she said, shaking her mane before disengaging our bodies. She nestles into the cold water, her back against the faucet, as she rests her legs on top of mine.

“I didn’t either,” I say, too quietly for her to hear me.

When we finally get out, the sun has mostly set, and the room is dark and chilly. The cracked window lets in a breeze and her naked body is covered in soft hairs and raised skin.

Later, at the diner, she talks, and I listen to her. I tell her a story, and she laughs, and we order coffee until three in the morning.

We never mention the bath.

Her Best Friend

It wasn’t until she was tied to the bed that she told me.

The party died down, and we feigned tiredness so we could go fuck in the guest room. We rarely got a chance to be alone, but with her best friend’s parents out of town, we had the place to ourselves. Only partially drunk, we stripped down quickly, and I bound her hands with my belt. It was a silly and familiar game, but she looked at me funny when I crawled between her legs.