My first one was called Freddy. That is short for Frederique. Yes, he was French. And a true professional, too. I met him when I was about 15. In fact my dad introduced him to me, that was awkward, I know.
He looked a bit older but so majestic. I couldn’t stop staring at him. He seemed like the whole package you don’t even dare to dream about. I was 15, he was about 25. My vagina had no clue what was she about to experience in the following months. Oh, if she only knew. She’d be trembling eagerly in my panties.
Anyway, I took him out the very same day. Why should I wait? I walked beside him holding him firmly but also stroking gently from time to time. I clearly remember that I was wearing a short pink skirt that day. The one that almost every girl I knew had in her wardrobe. When we got to the park, sat down on a bench and nobody seemed to be around I went for it. I slowly and carefully mounted him. It wasn’t really comfortable at first but after few adjustments I was ready to ride.
I straightened up and started pedaling. The wind was blowing in my hair and I felt like a woman for the first time. My thighs were going up and down with the frequency and precision of well-trained rowers. Suddenly it occurred to me. His hard and anatomically perfect saddle was pushing against my vagina. With every single tread, when my pelvis tilted a bit on one side, new and unknown feelings were conducted with the speed of light from my vagina right to the brain. I couldn’t stop now. I was revolving around a small pond in the park again and again. I rode Freddy faster and faster and I began to put all of my body into it. My arms while holding the handlebars were shooting forwards and backwards like Michael Phelps does when swimming for the golden medal in the 200m butterfly race. My legs were pedaling so fast as if I was dancing on live coals. And most importantly I was shaking my ass in the rhythm – combination of Shakira’s and Michael Jakcson’s moves. It started as energetic Waka Waka and later turned into deep-felt Billie Jean’s the kid is NOT MY SON. Parents who took their kids to the park were now holding them tightly so as to defend them from the lunatic riding around the pond as fast as Freddy allowed me to.
In the middle of the Billie Jean chorus I could see the finish line. My eye lids started to feel very heavy so I closed my eyes while continuing to pedal. A second or two and here it was.
(Michael Jackson’s) Oooo!
Me and Freddy hit a bench. It was a hard landing. I remember I broke my left arm and had to stay home for a couple of weeks. Through that whole time I was thinking about when I will be able to get on Freddy again.
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