I was glancing down at my small hands over his large ones (each one fairly covered each breast, and I’m not small) and didn’t realize he was waiting for me to look at him. When I glanced up he regarded me with little expression; but his eyes shone in the dark half light of the living room.
“Tell me about when you lost your virginity.”
I could feel his dick against my belly, just above the curl of my pubic hair. He shifted a little and the head brushed up against the inside of my skirt.
“Did you shave your vagina?” he said.
“What?”
He shrugged, keeping his hands on my tits. “It seems like you would.”
“I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,” I said. “But yes…”
He waited patiently.
“You really want me to tell you?”
“Yes,” he said.
I sighed.
“It was in high school. I was dating Tony Bra-” I stopped. “Oh my God, I can’t remember his name. No. It was Tony Braccho. Tony Brogan.” I pulled a hand off my tit and pressed it to my mouth. “What the fuck.”
Tom laughed.
“Shut up! It’s not funny.”
He didn’t stop laughing. “Not a good way to start.”
“Well he wasn’t that good.”
“Who did you want to lose it to?”
I gave him a sidelong look. “I know you won’t believe me, but I’m not a whore.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well it’s not like I fantasized about getting fucked all day.”
Tom laughed again. “Guys do.”
“Yeah. That’s not a mystery.”
“Can you put your hand back on mine?”
I had forgotten. I slipped my hand back over his and found that it had warmed some. And my nipples were getting harder under his rough palms.
“But I imagine – I could be wrong – that you had fantasies. Most do, guys and girls.”
“Uh huh,” I said. I squirmed down his thighs a little, rubbing the muscles of my inner thighs against his legs to get some circulation back. “Can you uncross your legs?”
He did. I slid back until my ass was on his thighs and his dick (still hard) was against my stomach.
“Who was it?”
I sighed. Why not tell him the truth? “You can’t tell anyone,” I said.
He smirked but didn’t say anything.
“Right.” I sighed again. “I had this fantasy that the guys’ tennis coach would, uh…” Tom’s face was turning red. I realized he was trying to keep from laughing. “Fuck you!” I said. I started to get up.
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry-” he said, not hiding his laughter at all. “It’s just that, first of all, he’s the tennis coach but, secondly, Righart was gay.”
“Well duh, everyone knows that now,” I said, awkwardly slipping my ass back against his legs. “But back then he was just this really funny, really young guy and he was really, really good looking.”
“So how did you imagine it?”
“Well,” I said, not really thinking about it, “I had actually asked him for some private lessons. Obviously he was the guys’ coach but he would sit in for the girls – I think he used to be pro – and I actually tried to flirt with him. I thought I must have been really bad at it because he never even came close to calling me on it or getting uncomfortable, he’d just laugh and tell me to ease up on my swing or tell me I didn’t need private lessons. But I finally got him to give me an hour after school and…” I think the only person I’d ever told about this was Allison. “I actually dreamed about this. I dreamed that he’d find me in the locker room before I went out there or I’d be all sweaty after he lobbed a bunch of serves at me and he’d catch me right before I got to the shower-”
“And then what?”
“Sometimes, I don’t know, sometimes I’d imagine he’d be rough. He was never rough in my dreams but when I imagined it, later-”
“Later-?”
“Um, sometimes after school, I’d, when I took a shower-”
“You did it after that practice?”
I shook my head. I was embarrassed but all the heat seemed to be leaking down to my bottom. “I didn’t even shower when I got home I just went straight upstairs and-”
“And what?”
I could feel his dick pressing against my stomach. I wasn’t sure, though, if he felt the first drip leave my body and hit his leg.
“I touched myself. Oh, God, I was so mad. I was so mad at him for not wanting to fuck me – even though that’s ridiculous – and I was so mad at myself for asking for the private lesson – I couldn’t concentrate at all the whole time, I was too busy trying to flirt with him or bending over in my skirt. Oh my God, I actually did that!” Unconsciously, I’d started to rub my thighs against his. I wasn’t even rubbing my privates against him; I’d just started moving back and forth; it started out as a way to keep my circulation going but… “That was the first time I actually put my fingers, uhm, inside myself.”
“Really?” Tom’s hands were slowly, very slowly, slipping down my breasts and skating down the silk blouse. He paused over the tan skin at my hips and kept going down to squeeze my ass. Instinctively, I rolled further into his lap.
“Before, I-ah-I just touched my clit but that day I had to have something- had to have something-” Did I realize too late what he’d been doing or did I realize it just in time. As I spoke I actually had reached down and grasped the tip of his cockhead. I found it slippery and hard in my palm, the whole shaft soon between my fingers.
“Had Tony fucked you before this?”
“Yes,” I whispered. What was I going to do? I was getting very wet.
“How many times?”
“It was a few months before, I- we did it a bunch of times but it was just, it wasn’t really anything. I kept waiting to feel something and I never did. He just put it in me and we went at it- usually expecting to get caught. We broke up.”
“What would you do if Rihart had come to you in the locker room?” He was slowly pushing his dick against the taut skin of my belly. I was also pushing his dick against me with my hand.
“I honestly would have fucked him,” I said. There wasn’t a trace of uncertainty in my voice. “He was older. He was so good looking.”
“But you had to masturbate to him instead.”
“Yes,” I said. I had begun to rub my pussy lips against Tom’s thigh and he took that as a sign to lift my hips and hold me against his dick. When I pushed forward, he pushed forward, and my lips slid back and forth over the base of his shaft. “Yes,” I said again, just to let him know.
“Remember what you wanted. Can you remember what it felt like?” he asked. His breathing was stertorous.
“Sort of,” I said.
“When you put your fingers inside yourself?”
“Yes…”
“It felt different than when Tony fucked you.”
I closed my eyes. I had bit my lip and reached out to the back of the couch to steady myself. I was already leaning farther back, arching my back, pushing my hips against him. “Yes,” I said. I don’t know how he knew but he knew. That day, when I’d fucked my hand, my fingers felt like they were sending electric shocks up my cunt. When I’d fucked Tony it just felt like there was something in me. That day…
Tom’s cockhead nudged against my clitoris. I bit my lip harder.
“Imagine him.”
“Okay.”
Maybe it was magic, I don’t know. But Tom didn’t exist anymore. I shut my eyes tight and I remembered what Aidan Brighart looked like. His big shoulders (like he played rugby, football, something far more physical than tennis demanded), his rocky back (alright, I’d never seen his back but I imagined the muscles grinding against each other whenever he swung into a return), his gold hair – all the girls were in love with him. I was not the only one who wanted to fuck him and there were more than one who claimed that they had. “Lying bitches,” I murmured as I trailed my hand off the back of the couch and searched through Tom’s (Aidan’s) hair.
“Tell him what you wanted.”
I remember moaning it in my dream. I remember almost praying for it in my bed that day. “I want you to fuck me, Aidan,” I groaned in a half whisper, half sing song. Tom didn’t ask but I reached for his shoulder and leaned forward until his dick slid under me so that it was almost parallel with my pussy lips. “I wanted him to press me against the shower wall…” I said.
I suddenly had this dick under me. If I kept my eyes closed it could have been Aidan’s. It could have been high school again; I could have been naked in the locker room, my skirt thrown over the bench and my feet sore and naked on the white tile. Tom wrapped his left arm around my body; his right hand scooped under my ass cheek and opened me, spread my thighs apart…
“What if someone comes in?”
“No one’s coming,” I whispered. I hugged Tom, suddenly remembered that my tits were out and then they squeezed against his chest. The naked skin on skin contact thrilled me.
“What if you tell?” he said in a low, low whisper.
I just went with it. I kept my eyes shut tight and nearly bashed my forehead into his hair. “I won’t,” I hissed. “I won’t tell!” I was running my cunt back and forth over his cock now, wondering why he wouldn’t put it in, furious at myself that I wasn’t more in control. But suddenly all these feelings for Aidan Brighart were flooding back into me and the overriding one was a true, undaunted lust.
“You’re a bad girl,” he whispered in the same, low, snake voice.
“Yes…” I imagined being naked in that shower, imagined him in there with me. Imagined his cock thick and pink and clean. I slung back my pelvis as far as it would go and felt the cockhead poke between my pussy and drove my hips down on it. “Ahh, God,” I moaned. Tom’s dick plunged into me and I was now directly in his lap, nailed to him. I drove him in and out, the wet condom sliding easily up into my hungry snatch. He met me more than halfway, driving himself up with a sure, dominating strength. The way Aidan would have. The way Bobby couldn’t. Fuck Bobby.
Tom pressed his mouth against mine then and I would have protested. Except I wasn’t imagining Tom there with me. I was imagining Aidan kissing me like that, kissing me like he couldn’t take his mouth off me, kissing me like I knew he wanted to kiss me; I was young, I was hot, I was ready, I wanted him and wanted him to want me and his dick was inside me – a sharp throb reverberated through my legs – and his dick was deep inside me. Oh, was he deep inside me. I kissed Tom back and I was the first one to put my tongue in his mouth. I imagined my lipstick was smearing against his cheeks (but that was all I let myself imagine with Tom). I found myself talking; I never liked to talk during sex.