Before I tell this story, as I know my blog is read in countries across the globe, I want to point out that the sexual consenting age in this country is 16, and as the following event took place on my 17th birthday, what happened was completely legal and consenting, even though it may be thought of as slightly immoral in certain circles.

So let me set the scene… it was my 17th birthday, I was out on the town (or just out OF town as this case may be!) with several friends, celebrating my 18th *cough cough* birthday. That’s what my fake ID said anyway, and how I was getting into, and served at, the pubs and bars we were going to! I’d had a little drink here and there before, but this was my first proper drinking night out. But I was still sensible and I hadn’t gone too crazy and just made myself sick or anything like that. I was out to have a laugh with my friends, and all in all, I planned on remembering the evening the next day.

But I was a little drunk and the night has a light haze over various parts, so this recollection is as I remember it. It isn’t a perfect recollection, I’ve probably embellished moments here and there and played down other moments, and I’ve certainly used my later gained wisdom to shed some light on the emotions and thought process from the time.

As the night wore on, some of my friends had already gone, and the rest, along with myself were thinking of calling it a night too. It was at this point that a gentleman called out my name from a few feet away, and as I turned, I saw that it was a good friend of my Dad’s, a family friend who my Dad had known for ages, and who I had known for about 5 years. He asked me the standard questions as a slight panicked look came across my face – what was I doing here, did my dad know I was out, how much had I been drinking? After this he offered to drive me home to make sure I got back safely in my condition. It made sense really, I was drunk, and I was heading in the opposite direction to my friends, so my only other options were a taxi, or a train combined with one hell of a walk that I probably couldn’t have managed in high heels that I hadn’t yet learned how to walk in properly.

So I left with my Dad’s friend, and we started driving. And I do want to point out at this point that I really don’t think at this point he had any intention of trying anything on with the young blonde 17 year old sat in his passenger seat. But the real question was – what were the intentions of the young blonde 17 year old birthday girl in the passenger seat?

From the moment I’d started to take an interest in boys several years earlier, I had begun to notice my dad’s friend and look at him in a different light. He was a very handsome man, a chiselled man, a mans-man. It was your typical school girl crush, I often hung around the adults slightly more when he was around, but alas, I was just a kid to him. A 13 year-old, a 14 year-old, a 15 year-old girl. But now I was a 17 year old girl. Actually I was a 17 year old woman! I didn’t look much like a girl anymore, although fairly drunk on this occasion, here I was all dressed up in heels, a sexy dress, and make-up. I had developed boobs over the last few years, and here they were straining against a dress that was perhaps far too revealing for a girl of my age. At last I could get him to notice me as more than just his friends kid – and boy was I going to do all I could to get him to notice me! In fact, as soon as that thought popped into my drunken blonde head that night, that became the only thought in there – get him to notice me as an attractive woman, not just as a kid. A goal, an aim, a mission!

So there I was, in the passenger seat of his car, doing my best to flirt in a subtle manner. And flirting is tough when you’re young and naïve, like I was. I didn’t really learn to flirt properly and develop a workable subtle style until I was at least 19 or 20. So there I was flirting, or at least trying to flirt – touching his arm softly occasionally, touching my own leg or chest just enough to try and divert his attention to that area of my body. Trying to sound sexy and interesting in my conversation.

But it wasn’t succeeding very well. One lustful look is all I was after to make me happy. But I wasn’t getting it.

So Plan B it was then, as I’m a determined girl and I was certainly determined to succeed on this particular mission.

And Plan A wasn’t really a very good plan, nor was it very well thought out, so can you just imagine how bad my Plan B was going to be. Yes – it was pretty much the drunken blurt out of “I love you, I do!” although not in those words. Lol. Actually I didn’t use the word love at all, I think it was more a statement of how attractive I thought he was and asking him if he’d ever thought about me in that way. But it did come out in the same blurt out fashion. Which just sounds even more drunken in a thick Welsh accent – which I had at that moment because (a) I hadn’t lost most of my accent yet, now I just have a slight “twang”, and (b) my accent gets worse the more drink I have, even to this day.

But anyway, after my “statement of intent” and practically lunging into his lap, he fought off my advances and got a little serious and stern with me, pretty much admonishing me like a naughty child, asking me questions about what I actually expected to happen, which I had no real answer for, followed up by some questions about if I’d had any real boyfriends and if I’d even had any sexual experiences. He wasn’t saying it in a pervy way, he was using them as statements to prove at what completely different stages in our lives we were and that I was too young to know what I was doing. At the point of him asking about my sexual experience though, I excitedly chirped up, as if it made me sound really mature and special or something “I’ve sucked a guy off before”. His admonishment of me seemingly hit a nerve and just made me want to prove to him that I wasn’t just a little girl, and that I was “grown up” and should be treated that way.

At this point he really had riled me up, to the point where I was thinking to myself, “Before I just wanted an acknowledgement that you thought I was pretty – now I’m going to fuck you just to prove you wrong!”

I don’t remember the exact conversation we had, but it was pretty heated and went something along the lines of me proceeding to argue my case, telling him I liked him because I always looked at him as a real man, but now I wasn’t sure he was man enough for me anyway. Just pushing his buttons the way he’d inadvertently pushed mine. He said something along the lines of “what do you want, do you want to suck my cock, is that it?” And I pretty much said “yes, as a matter of fact I do!” I think it was the most heated argument I’ve ever had that spawned a sexual act. It certainly wasn’t a tender moment! Lol

He jerked the car to a halt at the side of the country road we were driving down and a multitude of thoughts must have been running through my head. I was partly happy I’d pushed his buttons and made him treat me differently, not as a child/girl. I was partly excited that I was going to do something with my schoolgirl crush, but equally nervous. I had no sexual expertise other than a few gropes and one sloppy blow job – I was in no position to think I could pleasure this older, experienced guy at all.  But there was definitely a major part of me that was scared that I’d got in over my head and that wasn’t sure I really wanted this. But I was so stubborn and I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one that backed down.

Before I knew it, his cock was out and I had my head in his lap giving him a shockingly poor quality blow job. He told me if I was going to suck his cock then I’d better do it properly, and we moved into the back seats of his MPV where there was more space. He began to take control a bit more, he held my head as he guided my mouth over his cock, and told me when and how to use my tongue to give him the most pleasure. It was my first blow job lesson, and he was a pretty good teacher. He didn’t force too much into my mouth to try and make me choke or anything, but he did build up a steady rhythm, fucking my mouth as I locked my lips firmly around his thickness and licked at his length furiously with my tongue. As my head began to bob up and down without the assistance of his hands on my head, he let go, and used his hands to pull the straps of my dress down, and pulled it down past my young tender breasts. He then proceeded to grab them roughly, and squeezed and tweaked my nipples hard. I yelped in pain as I went to pull my head away from him only to have him grab the back of my head again, never letting his cock leave my mouth. The encounter continued with his one hand continuing his torture of my sensitive engorged nipples as his other hand ensured I never moved my head away from his cock. Shortly after, he asked if I’d ever swallowed cum. I mumbled an inaudible no with a mouthful of cock right before he came, shooting his load into my mouth. It hit the back of my throat and I gagged, jerking my head away. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head back, preventing me from spitting it out, and jerked his cock, spurting another two ample streams of cum over my face. He then put his cock right back in my mouth, a strange instinct took over me and I just sucked, draining any drop of cum he still had.

He withdrew and started putting himself back into his trousers, as I used my hand to wipe some cum off my cheek. I looked at the white liquid on my fingers, I looked around, looking for somewhere to wipe my hand. I had two choices – my dress, or his car seats. Neither seemed like an option, so I just licked it off my fingers. You know, it didn’t taste as bad as I’d heard it would.

He got out of the car and got back into the drivers seat. I followed suit, not even realising my dress was still bunched around my waist, exposing my naked breasts with my sore reddened nipples to the world as I walked from the back of the car to the front, cum still pooling on my cheek and chin. What a sight I must have been right at that very moment if there’d been anybody around to see me!

As I got in, I began to fix my dress, while still wiping bits of cum off my face with my finger, and licking it off my finger. I wasn’t trying to be sexy, or slutty, or anything like that, I was literally just trying to look somewhat presentable before I got home. He then pulled some tissues from the glove box and gave them to me as we drove away, and I used them to finish cleaning myself up. It was about 10 minutes later when we pulled up outside my house, and in that time we didn’t say a word to each other. The only time we acknowledged each other was when we pulled up on my street, a few houses down from mine. He said “you’d better get out here”, and I meekly responded “okay, thanks for the ride”. And I was gone, into my house, thanking my lucky stars that everyone was already in bed. My dad was still awake though, as I knew he would be, as he always was when he was waiting for me to come home. The next day I got an ear bashing from my Dad about missing my one-off extended curfew that he’d given me so I could celebrate my birthday by 15 minutes. I certainly didn’t tell him why I’d missed it though.

And my Dad’s friend and I – we never talked about that night again. We shared some awkward moments of being in the same room together for a while, and we nearly spoke about it once, but got interrupted, so we didn’t. I think we both were on the same page though – we had our regrets, we knew it shouldn’t have happened, I knew I’d pushed his buttons and I shouldn’t have, he knew he was old enough to know better and shouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation, and more than that, we both knew that it should always remain our little secret.

I did have a really brief conversation with him about it last year – during a party I attended at my parent’s house that he was also at. It wasn’t a big heart-to-heart, it was a busy party so it was more just a small word in his ear as we sat next to each other for a fleeting few minutes. I just told him that I hope he didn’t feel bad about what happened, that it was all me, and that I didn’t regret it for a second. A flirty smile and a small and gentle kiss to his lips followed, and I really hope that if he had held any bad feelings about it for the past several years, that I put his mind at ease.

Who know’s, maybe one day I’ll go back home, get drunk and bump into him again, and the guy who first released my inner-slut can get a repeat performance with a MUCH less innocent version of me!! Haha. Oh the fun that could be had from that situation now!! Lol.

Coming up in Chapter 3 – Blogslut goes to Uni, and when the cat goes away, she sure can play!!