The Best Sex I Never Had
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
I met Ophelia while I was living in Southeast Asia. She was an incredibly hot woman of Chinese ancestry. Stunningly beautiful, Ophelia was easily in the 950 - 980 mH range. She was intelligent, funny and very vivacious.
I was immediately smitten.
Within just a few days of meeting we had reached the point where it was impossible for us to keep our hands off each other. Heading back to my apartment with her I just knew that as soon as we closed my front door behind us we were going to rip each other’s clothes off and engage in some wonderfully sloppy canoodling.
Once inside my apartment, things continued much as I had expected until Ophelia, now practically naked, suddenly took on a serious look and tone and said, “You realize we can’t make love.”
At first I thought this was a joke. After all, everything that had transpired between us up to that moment suggested that sex, probably lots of it, was imminent.
Ophelia continued. “I’m serious. We can’t have sex.”
I just stopped and looked at her, waiting for her to explain her sudden shift in attitude.
Ophelia looked like was struggling to hold back tears.
I knew that whatever the problem was, it wasn’t something we could easily ignore.
“What is it?” I asked. I took as concerned and understanding a tone and posture as I could muster. I am very adroit at feigning sincerity when the situation calls for it.
Devastated by the unexpected news, my pecker was deflating rapidly.
“I’m engaged to be married,” Ophelia informed me.
At this point, Ophelia began crying quietly.
I put my arm around her and tried to be consoling, feigning sincerity like a pro.
“I have to admit, I am surprised and baffled,” I said. “Nothing in our behavior up to this point prepared me for this sudden turn.”
Ophelia apologized profusely, wiping her tears and blowing her nose with the tissue I had provided. She explained that she was engaged to marry a man that her parents had chosen for her. Marriages arranged by parents were common among the Chinese in Indonesia, particularly for men and women in her lofty socio-economic class.
As she explained further, I realized that Ophelia was not only beautiful, intelligent, vivacious and eloquent, she came from a family with more money than God and Davy Crockett put together. She was also trapped by her parents, her upbringing and her culture. She said there was no way for me, with my American background, to understand her predicament. She asked me to accept that there was really nothing she could to but marry this fellow that her parents had selected.
She insisted that her fiancé was a nice man, a medical doctor who came from a family that owned a chain of drugstores across Indonesia. Ophelia’s family fortune was based on real estate development and telecommunications. She had been engaged to this fellow for several years while he completed his medical studies.
I told Ophelia that I accepted her explanation and understood - as far as I could given my very different background.
Ophelia said she was falling in love with me and wanted us to remain close friends.
I was puzzled by this. Why would she want to remain close friends with a man she was in love with if she was about to marry someone else?
Ophelia snuggled up to me without answering my question. She smelled so nice and looked so beautiful. I kissed her without any intention of rekindling any fires. I figured she was already sufficiently muddled. But her impassioned response to my kiss immediately set me ablaze.
For most of the rest of that night we pawed at each other, kissed, licked each other all over and humped like there was no tomorrow. We each had several orgasms.
But we never actually fucked.
That first night set the pattern for our relationship which lasted for the last three and a half months of her unmarried life. We engaged in extended foreplay, usually most of the night. Everything was on the menu except penetrative sex. The only thing that changed during our limited time together was our increasing enthusiasm and the creativity of our foreplay.
Then Ophelia’s wedding date arrived. She married and adapted well to her role as a high powered wealthy socialite. We never saw each other again but exchanged emails for a while on her alias email account.
Looking back, I guess I was just Ophelia’s last fling before she settled into the staid and proper life for which she had been meticulously groomed ever since she was wearing diapers.
From my point of view, Ophelia was the hottest and best sex I never had.
I was immediately smitten.
Within just a few days of meeting we had reached the point where it was impossible for us to keep our hands off each other. Heading back to my apartment with her I just knew that as soon as we closed my front door behind us we were going to rip each other’s clothes off and engage in some wonderfully sloppy canoodling.
Once inside my apartment, things continued much as I had expected until Ophelia, now practically naked, suddenly took on a serious look and tone and said, “You realize we can’t make love.”
At first I thought this was a joke. After all, everything that had transpired between us up to that moment suggested that sex, probably lots of it, was imminent.
Ophelia continued. “I’m serious. We can’t have sex.”
I just stopped and looked at her, waiting for her to explain her sudden shift in attitude.
Ophelia looked like was struggling to hold back tears.
I knew that whatever the problem was, it wasn’t something we could easily ignore.
“What is it?” I asked. I took as concerned and understanding a tone and posture as I could muster. I am very adroit at feigning sincerity when the situation calls for it.
Devastated by the unexpected news, my pecker was deflating rapidly.
“I’m engaged to be married,” Ophelia informed me.
At this point, Ophelia began crying quietly.
I put my arm around her and tried to be consoling, feigning sincerity like a pro.
“I have to admit, I am surprised and baffled,” I said. “Nothing in our behavior up to this point prepared me for this sudden turn.”
Ophelia apologized profusely, wiping her tears and blowing her nose with the tissue I had provided. She explained that she was engaged to marry a man that her parents had chosen for her. Marriages arranged by parents were common among the Chinese in Indonesia, particularly for men and women in her lofty socio-economic class.
As she explained further, I realized that Ophelia was not only beautiful, intelligent, vivacious and eloquent, she came from a family with more money than God and Davy Crockett put together. She was also trapped by her parents, her upbringing and her culture. She said there was no way for me, with my American background, to understand her predicament. She asked me to accept that there was really nothing she could to but marry this fellow that her parents had selected.
She insisted that her fiancé was a nice man, a medical doctor who came from a family that owned a chain of drugstores across Indonesia. Ophelia’s family fortune was based on real estate development and telecommunications. She had been engaged to this fellow for several years while he completed his medical studies.
I told Ophelia that I accepted her explanation and understood - as far as I could given my very different background.
Ophelia said she was falling in love with me and wanted us to remain close friends.
I was puzzled by this. Why would she want to remain close friends with a man she was in love with if she was about to marry someone else?
Ophelia snuggled up to me without answering my question. She smelled so nice and looked so beautiful. I kissed her without any intention of rekindling any fires. I figured she was already sufficiently muddled. But her impassioned response to my kiss immediately set me ablaze.
For most of the rest of that night we pawed at each other, kissed, licked each other all over and humped like there was no tomorrow. We each had several orgasms.
But we never actually fucked.
That first night set the pattern for our relationship which lasted for the last three and a half months of her unmarried life. We engaged in extended foreplay, usually most of the night. Everything was on the menu except penetrative sex. The only thing that changed during our limited time together was our increasing enthusiasm and the creativity of our foreplay.
Then Ophelia’s wedding date arrived. She married and adapted well to her role as a high powered wealthy socialite. We never saw each other again but exchanged emails for a while on her alias email account.
Looking back, I guess I was just Ophelia’s last fling before she settled into the staid and proper life for which she had been meticulously groomed ever since she was wearing diapers.
From my point of view, Ophelia was the hottest and best sex I never had.
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13 comments
I don't really understand why penetrative sex is more "real" so to speak than licking a girl all over, dry humping, pawing at each other, and making out. Passionate, extended foreplay I find at least as pleasurable if not more so than penetrative sex. And I actually enjoy humping to orgasm more than standard penetration.
Most people, speaking of situations where they made out intensely or dry humped or did a various assortment of things will say stuff along the lines of "we did all this stuff, but we didn't have sex." From my perspective though, its all sex. I don't really place a premium on penetrative sex, its just another way to do it. In-fact, when I masturbate, I almost never fantasize about penetration, I usually fantasize about a girl grinding on me, about licking her all over her body, about the moans she makes, and making out with her.
So if I was in such a situation, I wouldn't be disappointed or think of it as the sex I almost got but didn't. If I was in such a situation, I would feel like its all sex anyway we just didn't penetrate.
That was exactly what I discovered.
I might have felt differently if we had denied ourselves orgasms. But we didn’t deny ourselves orgasms. It was wonderful.
One night Ophelia lost it and breathlessly asked me to fuck her. I knew it was just a heat of the moment thing and I didn’t comply with her request. Instead, I just finished her off with my muscular tongue.
She thanked me later.
Was it some type of feeling of guilt about cheating on her future husband?
Because, to me, she cheated on him regardless that there was no penetration.
Interesting story Rev.
SJG
Reminds me of a pal who dated this girl for 2 years we were in college. She was adamant about staying a virgin til marriage. But she sought and took it from him in the ass those full 2 years. And so pussy virgin, yes - rectal virgin, no. Whatever. All we friends of his just shook our heads.
“Not judging, just discussing but why would she not have full service sex but do everything else?”
Excellent question! I wondered about this a lot at the time. It never made any sense to me. But I never asked Ophelia to explain her reasons for this odd “anything and everything except vaginal sex” attitude.
Even if I couldn’t quite fuck her, I certainly did not want to risk talking her out of doing everything else with me. I just accepted that this limitation made sense in her mind.
I actually spent more time and energy trying to understand why she just didn’t break off the engagement if she didn’t feel that strongly about her husband to be. But discussions on that topic only made her cry so I quit.
Maybe because she wasn’t very enthusiastic about her imminent marriage but felt obliged to her family and her culture to go through with it, she felt that she at least deserved this fling.