This file was obtained from...
__ ____ ____
\_\_____ /\ \ / \ /
/ / \ \/ \/
/ H E /----\ L T \ /\ E X \ /\ T O R I E S
/ / \ / \ / \
/ _/ \_ . _/ \_/ . _/ \_/ .
Anonymous FTP Text Repository
ftp://129.21.108.190 (subject to change)
Archive name (8.3): virgin.txt
Title: Virgin (On The Ridiculous)
A.S.S. Code: M/F
Author: Jordan Shelbourne
Notes:
************************ {Beginning of original archive}***********************
From jordan@u36.kw.net Wed Mar 05 15:29:38 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Subject: Virgin (On the Ridiculous) (mf)
From: Jordan Shelbourne <jordan@u36.kw.net>
Date: 5 Mar 1997 20:29:38 GMT
VIRGIN (ON THE RIDICULOUS)
[Tedious legal materials:
[Copyright (c) 1996 Jordan Shelbourne
[ You are granted permission to transmit this file across computer
networks and to make one hard copy for personal use. All other rights
reserved; for information contact jordan@u36.com. Comments appreciated.]
I was channel-surfing when my roommate Tara came in and plopped herself
on the sofa, sighing a heavy sigh. Tara is given to heavy sighs, so I
didn't pay much attention; I wasn't in the mood to indulge her tonight.
She sighed again. When I still didn't respond, she asked me, "Larry,
what do you think of virgins?"
I quoted from _The_Stunt_Man_, "I had a virgin once. Had to go all the
way to Guatemala for her. She was blind in one eye." I skipped past the
home shopping channels.
You have to understand, Tara is a puppy. She's cute and earnest and
young, and lives in a world of excess, a kind of joy-and-crisis-du-jour
lifestyle. These aren't real crises, not job losses and illnesses and
abortions, but "does he like me" and "he didn't phone me should I phone
him" and "what do you think Larry?" And when I'm in a grumpy mood, I
don't want to hear about it. Other than that, we make fine roommates.
Early on, I made my pass, she turned me down, and we've gotten along
fine since then.
"I'm serious," she pleaded.
I switched off the TV and said, "I think some virgins are nice people,
just like some short people and some chiropractors. What about
virgins?"
"I had a date with Cliff tonight. Our fifth date." Cliff was a weedy
guy who dressed in black and tried to give the impression there was more
to him than met the eye. There had to be; what met the eye was pretty
thin. When I first met him -- he was dating a friend of Tara's then --
he talked a lot about magick (with a k). With Tara, he was pushing the
cynical-man-of-the-world image. Even my friend Jules didn't like him.
"Cliff hit on you?"
"I threw myself at him." She looked embarrassed. "I really like Cliff."
"But he's a virgin?"
"No, _I_ am." In retrospect, it wasn't much of a surprise; keeping her
virginity was a very Tara thing to do. The only surprise was that she'd
decided to give it to Cliff.
"Cliff has a problem with this?"
"He won't make love to a virgin." Now my interest was piqued: Tara is a
dish. She's a brunette with big brown eyes and full eminently-kissable
lips, and she smiles a lot -- a definite plus in my book. I couldn't
imagine Cliff turning her down.
"Did he say why?" I asked her.
"He said he couldn't hurt me that way."
"Quelle weird," I said. "What were you doing?" I had vague images of
bondage scenes.
"We were in his car -- his roommate's car, actually -- and we were, you
know, making out, and I told him I wanted to, uh, go further, so he put
his hand down my pants to touch me, you know, _there_, and he slipped
his finger into, well, into me and I gasped, because it's been a while
since anybody's touched me there, and after that, he broke off the kiss
and started talking."
"How did he know you were a virgin?" Tara left her tampons and birth
control pills lying on the bathroom counter, so I had just assumed she
was sexually active.
"I told him."
"Before he, uh--" Damn it, now she had me dancing around the words. I
started again: "Before he began to finger-fuck you?"
"I don't know," she said. She thought a moment. "After. Because he
said I was tight, and I told him he was going to be my first. And then
he said he couldn't let me make that kind of decision in the heat of
passion." She grimaced, trying to hold back the tears. "And he was the
one who always talked about living your passions!"
I gave her a tissue. "You know, Tara, maybe it's just life," I told her
as she dabbed at her eyes. "Most guys you hear about dream about
ramming it to a virgin, and at least Cliff isn't like that." I couldn't
believe I was defending a weed like Cliff. "If you don't boink Cliff,
I'm sure a lot of guys will jump at the chance."
She sniffled and asked me, "Like you?"
Excuse me? I didn't say anything, but I didn't have to.
"Would you fuck me?" she asked earnestly. "Because if you did, I
wouldn't be a virgin any more, and Cliff would make love to me. And you
are my friend, so it wouldn't be _heartless_..."
Boy, the enthusiasm there was a real turn-on. I thought for a moment,
trying to put it properly, and finally I said, "Tara, how come you want
to make love to Cliff, but with me it'd be fucking?"
Her face fell.
I don't want to sound too noble here -- part of me was definitely
saying, "Do her! Do her _now!_" But I don't like being used any more
than the next person, and maybe a bit less.
"Tell you what," I told her (and I couldn't believe I was saying this),
"why don't I talk to him and see if he'll explain his reasons to me?"
"Would you?" she said. "Thanks, Larry, this means an awful lot to me."
"Yeah, right," I mumbled. Well, there was nothing good on TV anyway.
* * *
I phoned Cliff's dorm; he was in his room, and according to his
roommate, he was already half in the bag. Rather than risk having the
phone slammed in my ear, I decided to go over there. Since I'm not
physically prepossessing (I've got zero wins in my schoolyard fighting
career), I picked up Jules on the way there. Jules is _big_, people are
scared of him. To look at him, you'd never guess he was a hypertolerant
tree-hugging Gaia-worshipper. He's also a bit of a size queen, so I had
to put up with an inch-by-inch description of his last lover's cock.
Fortunately the trip was shorter than the cock.
When we pulled to a stop, Jules said, "You're in a pissy mood tonight.
You haven't made one rude comment."
"I'm just, I don't know, why am I doing this? Why didn't I just boff
her when she asked and have an end to this?"
Jules seemed shocked. "You don't know?"
"No," I said sourly. "Would I be asking if I knew?"
"You're crazy about her."
"Get real," I told him. "She's a ditz."
"So don't listen to me."
"I've _been_ listening to you. You're just not _saying_ anything."
"Fine," he said.
"Not that she isn't cute," I said as I got out of the car.
"Like I care," Jules said.
"I mean, she's cute."
"So they tell me. Which room?" he asked as we entered the elevator.
"Third floor. Three-oh-seven. I've had other cute female roommates,
and I never had a jones for them."
"Neither have I," he said.
I made a face. "Yeah, but you liked Kevin."
He recited, "Eight is great, and nine's divine. I'll always have a yen
for ten. But one thing you could say for Kevin was that his cock was
past eleven."
"Fuckin' size queen," I said.
"Fuckin' breeder," he said to me. "This it?"
I nodded and knocked.
Cliff's roommate was wearing his jacket when he opened the door for us.
"You Larry?" I told him I was. "Cliff's over there." He jerked his head
in the direction of the divider; I could hear the faint sounds of a
laugh track. "I'm going over to my girlfriend's for the night, so I
won't be interrupting you guys." He gathered up his stuff, then paused
at the door. "I don't mind a drunk," he said, "but I hate a whiner."
Jules and I exchanged looks and walked around the divider.
Cliff was sitting there on his bed, propped against his wall, surrounded
by three empty mickey bottles of rye. He was staring at a MASH rerun on
a little color television. I turned it off. "Hey!" said Cliff.
"You've seen it," I told him. "It's the one where Hawkeye complains
about the inhumanity of war."
"Oh," he said, mollified. His head bobbed on his neck like a ball on a
spring: look at me, at Jules, at the window, at me, at Jules...
I dragged over his desk chair; Jules sat on the desk. "So let's talk,"
I said.
"You're Larry," he said.
"Yup. This is Jules." Jules grunted once. He does a very intimidating
grunt. "So let's talk," I said again.
"You wanna talk about Tara." Well, he was more lucid than some drunks
I've dealt with. He struggled to sit upright. "I didden touch her. I
swear it."
"I know that, Cliff. She told me that, Cliff."
"Oh," he said. He perked up a bit and asked, "Why you wanna talk?"
I explained, as briefly as I could, that Tara had _wanted_ him to touch
her, and that she wanted to know _why_ he wouldn't touch her.
"I coulden tell," he said. "It's embarrassing."
"You're with friends here, Cliff," I told him (a palpable lie). "You
can tell us."
Jules grunted again.
Cliff looked around and asked us if the door was shut. We assured him
it was. I was having trouble keeping a straight face. He struggled to
the edge of the bed so he could lean forward and whisper to us. You
could fuel a camp lantern on his breath.
He put a hand on each of us to steady himself. His head sagged down and
then bobbed up again. Finally, with wide-open eyes, he said earnestly,
"I got a big cock."
I was going to laugh but you don't do that to drunks. Figuring this
would be like the time that Cliff intimated he worked for the CIA, I
_did_ say, "Right."
Jules grunted again, but with a certain degree of interest.
"I don' wanna hurt her." He tried to explain some more: "I hurt
experienced women, an' she's a virgin. My cock -- it's..._big_."
"You know, Cliff, I hurt a woman once and that was because my idea of
foreplay was the phrase, 'Let's fuck.'"
"I do foreplay," he said, suddenly indignant. "I punch anybody who says
I don't. I'm just big. Huge. Ginormous."
"Well, why didn't you tell Tara?" I asked him.
"It's embarrassing," he insisted. "Most guys think it's great to have a
big cock, but it's not. It's an awesome responsibility." He got up as
if to emphasize his point, but instead he said, "I have to pee." He
lurched out the door to the bathroom.
Jules and I followed him in case he was going to duck out, but he went
into a stall. He did, in fact, have to pee -- a prodigious quantity.
"Kinda like being at a waterfall, isn't it?" Jules said to me. I
nodded, and we each used a urinal.
We finished before Cliff did. I told Jules I wasn't used to hanging
around in bathrooms. He blew me a little kiss and said, "You get to
like it."
I grinned.
Cliff was _still_ peeing. A fat guy in dirty sweats came in and gave us
a look. We moved aside to give him access to the urinals. That put
Jules next to the stall. He peeked over the wall. His eyebrows went up
and his mouth made a little O of surprise.
I hadn't actually considered the possibility that Cliff was telling the
truth. It had seemed too unlikely.
Eventually the river ran dry and Cliff emerged. He stumbled straight
into the sinks and cracked his jaw. We tried to carry him back to his
room, but he insisted on washing his hands first. I hate waiting to dry
my hands under those blowers, and you know, it's ten times worse if
you're holding up a drunk who's drying his hands.
By the time we got back to his room, through the strange alchemy that
only drunks can manage, we were his buddies.
"Iss a responsibility, a big dick," he said to us. "I never done a lot
of stuff 'cause of it."
"Remind me not to get in a game of Deprivation with you," I said.
"Thass right. I'd win. I never sunk it all the way in, 'cept once. I
never had a good blowjob. I never been deep-throated."
I didn't bother to tell him that I'd never been deep-throated either,
and I was fairly certain I'd slept with more women than he had.
"That's too bad," said Jules.
Cliff nodded. Then he asked us, "You want a drink?"
"No," I told him, but Jules nodded, and Cliff poured him a drink. Cliff
poured himself another large one, too.
I figured I'd better say my piece now before Jules had him naked and
spread-eagled on the bed.
"Look, Cliff -- Tara's hurt by your rejection."
"She'd be more hurt by my dick," he mumbled.
"That's right," said Jules. "A woman is a delicate flower."
"Oh, stay out of this," I told Jules. To Cliff I said, "You hurt her by
leaving without an explanation. At least treat her like an adult,
Cliff. At least tell her why you won't sleep with her and let her make
the decision about whether she wants to sleep with you or not. It _is_
her body."
"'S my dick," he said, irritated. As quickly as we'd become buddies, we
were foes. He was mad at me. He stood up and swayed there for a
moment, then sat heavily down on the bed. Jules put an arm around him
to support him.
"That's all I wanted to say," I told him. I said to Jules, "I'm going.
I suppose you can find your own way home?"
"Don't wait up," he said.
I nodded and left. As I was closing the door, I heard Jules saying,
"Just lay back and relax..."
* * *
"Anyway," I told Tara. "That was the reason."
"That was it?" she asked.
"Uh-huh."
She started to laugh. "That's nothing. Can I borrow your car?"
Nothing, she said. "Sure," I told her. Then I remembered Jules and
what he was probably doing with or to Cliff at that moment. "Actually,
he was pretty drunk, Tara. Maybe you don't want to go tonight."
"Don't be silly," she said. "It's not like seeing someone drunk is any
more intimate than making love."
My heart felt like lead. "Uh...I'm going to need the car tomorrow," I
lied. "Why don't I drop you off?"
"Great," she said. "I'll grab my stuff."
I waited at the door with a lump in my throat that I couldn't swallow.
Tara returned from her room, carrying an overnight bag. It clacked and
rustled. She'd managed to do something to her makeup so she looked
fresh and inviting, and that depressed me.
Tara hummed happily to herself during the drive while I stayed silent.
As she got out of the car, I said again, "He was _really_ drunk. He
might not be able to..."
She said, "You're so sweet to try to protect me. You had your chance,
dear." She shut the car door and as she headed into the dormitory, she
called, "Don't wait up."
I sat there, feeling bad.
I couldn't think of anything to do but wait. Wait and think.
It was possible that Jules wasn't doing to Cliff what I suspected he was
doing. But if Jules had taken a vow of celibacy, he hadn't mentioned it
to me.
It was possible they wouldn't answer the door, and Tara wouldn't see
anything that might distress her. Except the door wasn't locked, and
Tara would just walk in. She did it to me all the time.
I checked my watch. It had only been two minutes, not even enough time
for her to walk to his door.
I turned on the radio, turned it off again, revved the engine as if to
leave, let it idle some more. Once I even shifted out of park but
didn't drive more than six inches.
It was possible that she would walk in on them, strip naked and join
them for a frolicsome menage a trois. Except, of course, I was not
living in a magazine letters column.
I checked my watch again. Five minutes and --
Tara came striding out of the residence, back unnaturally straight and
gaze fixed straight ahead, shoulders high and the overnight back
clenched between her elbow and her ribs. She passed the car with long
hasty steps.
I rolled down the window. "Hey. Hey!"
Finally she turned her head and spotted me.
"You need a ride?"
She nodded.
As she got in, I could see the wet tracks down her cheeks. She sat
stiffly and silently. After a block, she asked, "Did you know?"
"I guessed."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to be wrong."
"Take me to a bar or a club. I need to get drunk."
I knew we shouldn't have watched _Breakfast_at_Tiffany's_. "You don't
drink," I reminded her.
"I drink!"
"You get drunk on two glasses of wine, Tara."
She started fumbling with the seat belt and the door handle. "If you
won't take me to a bar, I'll walk!"
"I'll take you," I told her. "I'll take you."
There was a bar near campus, the Hieronymous Bash, where it was possible
to talk without earning yourself laryngitis. I planned to talk to her.
Too late I remembered that in my undergraduate days we had called it the
"Anonymous Boff."
She walked in with that rigid stride and went straight to the bar. I
followed her in, too much like a nervous puppy so the doorman asked for
my ID. It took me forever to get my wallet out and the doorman didn't
even have the decency to look embarrassed when I turned out to be
twenty-five. By the time I got free of him, Tara had downed her first
glass and was starting on her second.
I decided my only chance was to get her drunk and pour her home.
I was too late.
He was clean-cut in a blonde surfer-boy way. I got to the bar in time
to see her go to the dance floor with him.
It took me three attempts to get the bartender's attention. I ordered a
ginger ale and waited by Tara's bag. She would come back for it. I
hoped.
Four songs later (three fast, one slow) she and he came back. She was
flushed and sweaty and now she walked fluidly, sexily.
"Hi, Larry." To him she said, "This is Larry. He won't fuck me either."
"Hi," he said uncertainly, looking back and forth between us.
"He's my roommate," Tara told him. "It's okay." She turned back to me
and whispered, "I've forgotten his name, but he's cute."
"Hi," I said to him.
"I'm Shannon," he said. We shook hands. I felt vaguely foolish.
"She's drunk," I told him.
"I'm not," she said. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here." She poked
me in the chest. "Why don't you want me to get laid?" She turned back
to Shannon. "_He_ gets laid. I've heard." She started to moan as if in
orgasm. I recognized the distinctive vocal stylings of Carrie, my last
serious relationship. Things had ended badly with Carrie.
"Tara, that's enough." She stopped and stood there, sulking.
Shannon said, "You guys have something to work out here, so I'll just
go. Tara, here's my number. You call me sometime." To me he said, "It
was nice to meet you. Weird," he added, "but nice."
"No," Tara said. "Shannon, will you take me home? I mean, to your
place?"
"Tara--" I began.
"You can't give me one good reason why I shouldn't fuck him," she said
to me.
"You'll regret it," I said.
She drew herself up to her full five feet four. "I'm an adult."
Well, she was. She left with Shannon.
* * *
There was still nothing on TV. I went to bed and didn't sleep.
"She's a ditz," I said out loud in the darkness.
"Anybody who would get drunk and get laid is just...immature," I said
five minutes later.
Five minutes after that, I added, "So is someone lying in bed talking to
himself."
Jules had been right. I was crazy about her.
Damn him.
That awareness of how I felt about her was stupefying, just as the
knowledge that she didn't feel that way about me was heartbreaking. Had
I felt this way two hours earlier, I would have slept with her, even
though I'd regret it later, just for the illusion of closeness. Love
makes me stupid.
An eternity after that, I heard the front door open, then the bathroom
door. And I heard Tara sobbing.
* * *
Squinting in the light, I saw Tara kneeling before the toilet, crying
and sniffling. I sat on the edge of the toilet and gathered her hair
back. Her neck was all sweaty.
"How you doing, kiddo?" I asked. I was nervous and angry all at once.
She had Shannon's number. I could track him down and punch him.
Of course, he'd turn me into bisque right after that, but it would be
worth it for the one punch.
"I feel _awful_." She made a dry retching sound but nothing came up.
"Was he... I mean, did he--?"
"I waited so long for the right guy, you know? And then I decided that
even an okay guy would do. And even the okay guy didn't want to. And
then I can't believe I asked a guy in a bar to fuck me."
"Tara, what happened with Shannon?"
"Larry, it was _terrible._"
"He was...rough?"
"He _wouldn't_. He kept giving me drinks and then he said I was _too
drunk!_"
I began to laugh, I couldn't help myself.
"It's _serious_," she said. "I'm like the last virgin I know. I used
to be proud of it but now it's like this great big weight..." Tara
started to cry again but I couldn't stop giggling. I tried to get a
straight face back but I couldn't.
"You _stop_ that!" she said and I struggled again to be quiet. I might
have succeeded if she hadn't just then belched, a long rumbling sound
that came from the depths of her stomach. Tara looked mortified.
A long moment later, she started to laugh too. That gave her the
hiccups which made both of us laugh harder.
Finally, I don't know how much longer, we had both subsided to
occasional giggles. Tara gave a deep sigh and laid her head in my lap.
Then she threw up on both of us.
* * *
I laid her in the tub and turned on the shower. I threw my robe in, and
naked I quickly mopped the floor. Then I got in the shower with her.
When she saw me get in, she struggled to sit upright. I turned once to
rinse myself, then knelt before her, one knee between her legs. She
reached out and touched my soft cock.
"It's not so big," she said.
"Nobody's big compared to Cliff." Delicately I unhooked her earrings and
left them in the soap dish.
"It _was_ big, wasn't it? I don't know how Jules got the head in his
mouth." She giggled lazily. The warm water ran down my neck, my chest,
my back.
The water had turned her blouse transparent. I could see the lace of
her bra and dimly made out the dark circles around her nipples. I
fumbled with the buttons. She took my cock in her hand and tugged
gently.
"Careful," I said.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said very seriously, and then giggled
again. Water ran from my cock onto her hand, poured from her elbow.
Her bra fastened in the front. I opened it and peeled the wet fabric
away from her breasts. They sagged down against her ribs. There were
dark hairs around her nipples. I twisted my body to let the water hit
her again, washing her clean.
"Sit up, kiddo," I said, and helped her so I could get the blouse and
bra from her shoulders. "You have to let go for a moment."
"Aw," she said, childlike. "It was just starting to wake up." But she
let go and I freed her from the blouse. The wet cloth slapped against
the side of the stall.
She wore a wrap-around skirt and I had to get her to stand up before I
could get it off. The bath was so cramped I had to kneel again, and
suddenly I was staring at her bushy pubic hair. She put her hand on my
head and said, "Do you like it?"
"Very much." I gave her a quick kiss below her belly button and above
the hairline. Then I peeled off her thigh-high stockings and edged her
under the spray. "You rinse your hair, now."
"You're so good to me," she murmured. "You're so nice."
I'd forgotten to fetch towels. I tracked water down the hall and back
while she rinsed herself off.
Tara turned off the water herself and leaned against the wall, her head
tilted and her hip thrust out. She sparkled with water. She swung one
foot up onto the edge of the tub; her inner lips peeked out, pouting.
She reached out with a fingertip and gently stroked my bobbing cock.
Her voice was husky. "Now will you make love to me?"
"Yes," I said. "But first--"
"What?" she breathed. Her eyes were dark and huge, her lids heavy. I
felt as though all my weight were centered in the head of my hard hard
cock.
"Brush your teeth."
She pouted, but did. I dried her with the rough towel as she brushed.
She twisted away as I ran the towel briskly over her nipples. Finally,
while I dried her feet, she spat out the toothpaste as a small child
does -- "P-tah! P-tah!"
She took one step and pressed her pussy against my face. Her pubic hair
tickled my nose. I cupped her lovely buttocks in my hands and ran my
tongue along her cleft. She tasted fresh and clean. I licked and
nibbled until my chin ran with her juices. With one hand she held
herself up; with the other she clutched my shoulder. Finally I sucked
her clit into my mouth, hard, and flicked it with my tongue. Her knees
trembled and I broke away.
"Now?" she said.
"Not yet," I said. I made her swallow two vitamin pills and drink a
quart of water. Then I led her to my bed and went to brush my teeth.
By the time I got back, she was snoring softly. My virtue was safe, for
the moment.
I lay there, enjoying the warmth of her next to me. My cock hurt, it
was so hard.
* * *
I heard the toilet flush and she got back in bed, behind me this time.
Her breasts pressed against my back as she reached around me to hold my
penis. I had an erection again, or maybe the same one.
I rolled to meet her and her mouth came down on mine. Her tongue
slipped easily into my mouth. She tasted slightly musty with sleep,
slightly minty with toothpaste. We explored for a moment, learning each
other's signals of give and take. She was urgent and insistent, probing
deeply.
She rubbed my cock with the palm of her hand, not grasping it, pressing
it against my belly and pulling the skin of the shaft tight, first up,
then down. She curled her fingers around my balls and her fingertips
lightly, tentatively, brushed the sensitive skin behind my balls.
Still we kissed, now with my tongue in her mouth, exploring her as
urgently as she had explored me. I stroked the soft skin of her neck,
the jut of her shoulderblades and the line of her back, all the way down
to the dimples flanking her buttocks. I softly traced a finger along
the cleft of her ass and circled her asshole. Tara was warm and slick,
even there. At my touch, she moaned into my mouth and hiked her warm
sturdy leg up onto my waist so I could reach her pussy.
She reached back a little farther to press her middle finger against my
asshole; we were practicing the sexual Golden Rule, doing unto each
other... I suddenly sucked her tongue, hard, to let her know this was a
Good Thing.
I managed to inch my hand forward a bit more, carefully penetrating her
damp matted jungle. She whimpered when I found the entrance to her
pussy and gasped when I brushed against her small hard clitoris. She
tried to reach for my penis but we were tangled in a sweaty
sweet-smelling lover's knot.
I slipped my index finger into her and gently began to finger-fuck her,
my thumb stroking her mound with every thrust. She broke our kiss with
a sigh and lay beside me, wrapped around me, concentrating. Muscles in
her belly and her thighs fluttered and trembled. I inserted another
finger; she made a sudden sharp inhalation. Her cunt was tight but not
unyielding. My fingers made squelching sounds as they slid in and out
of her.
I pressed my hand as far forward as it would go, until the web of my
thumb wedged tightly against her, my thumb heavily against her clit.
Tara pushed her hips against me, urging my fingers deeper; then her
thigh pressed down on me as her other arm drew me closer and she said
with great effort, "Oh, yesss," her breath hot against my ear. A moment
later she said again more easily, "Oh, yes."
By a shrug of her shoulders she told me she wanted free. She giggled at
the wet sound as I pulled my fingers free. She kissed me three times
rapidly and placed the cool tip of her nose against my own. "Now?" she
asked me.
"Now," I told her.
We rolled clumsily over so she was beneath me, my thighs falling into
the vee of her legs. We kissed some more. There was still the faintest
scent of perfume on her after the shower, light and floral against our
musk. I stroked her warm breasts with my thumbs, feeling her nipples
tighten again into knots.
"I like that," she said.
"So do I."
The shaft of my cock felt hard, huge, _solid_ resting against her pussy.
I moved slightly and her lips parted; my cock was suddenly damp.
She reached down and gently squeezed my cockhead, then pushed. I moved
my hips and together we positioned my cock to enter her.
"Now?" I asked her.
"Now," Tara said. Her fingertips trembled against my cock. She held
her breath.
I pushed forward gently, squeezing my cock into her. The tightness of
her pulled my skin taut, and I could only imagine that it hurt her.
Once the head was in, I paused.
"Don't stop," she said. "Please don't stop now." She sighed explosively
and took another deep breath. I could feel her adjusting around me, and
I braced my knees and feet and pushed again, slowly. She kept her hand
where we joined, feeling me enter her.
When I was fully inside her, she gave another explosive sigh and smiled.
"It doesn't hurt," she whispered. She laughed. "It doesn't hurt, I
thought it would hurt." I could see a silly grin on her face. She
wrapped her arms around me and kissed me again.
The next stroke was a little faster, and the one after that faster yet.
Her cunt had a hot muscular grip on my cock, maybe a little too tight
for total comfort but that was fine, I wanted this to last.
"Mmmmm," she said and giggled again. "I can feel your balls slap me.
You go so deep. I feel so full."
"I can go deeper."
"Not yet." She started to move her hips, pleasing me, pleasing herself.
We picked up speed and for a few moments we thrust hard and fast, my
cock sinking deeply into her, our bellies slapping. A low sound grew in
her throat.
Then one of us missed the beat and suddenly I was held inside her only
by the head of my cock as our hips stayed inches from each other. We
both tried to correct and my cock popped out with a _ploop_ sound.
"Whoops."
"Oh, I want more of this," she told me. I nodded.
I entered her more easily this time. She crossed her ankles behind my
knees and we began to work together, the juicy fun work of sex. Long
slow deep strokes, short fast ones with just the head of my cock
squeezing in and out of her, and giddy giggly moments where our hips
stayed still but we kissed and caressed each other.
Finally she said, "Do me deep and fast again."
I let her nipple fall from my mouth. "I'll come."
"I know," she said.
My cock had softened slightly but as I moved it hardened again. She
lifted her legs high, tilting her pelvis and gasped as I sank deeply
into her.
"Oh, yes." Then she couldn't speak any more, her head thrown back and
her mouth a dark O. My orgasm grew along the shaft of my cock and I lost
control of my hips, driving deeper and harder, deeper and harder,
grinding myself against her until I came. Sparks swam before my eyes
while I released my come into her.
I sagged against her, feeling emptied, my cock still hard but now so
sensitive I couldn't move.
Tara let her legs drop on me. "Mmmmm, nice," she murmured in my ear.
"Thank you."
I pulled away to lie beside her. She half-rolled so she was still
touching me.
Her breathing slowed as she dozed, wrapped around me. I had been on the
verge of saying something bitter about being ready for Cliff but I
didn't. She didn't deserve it. I had not done this for Cliff, I had
done this for me.
I lay there and reviewed what we had done like a miser counting his
hoard.
Then I realized what she had said, and I dropped off to sleep.
* * *
Dawn light fell through the window soft and warm as feathers. It woke
me. Tara was still there beside me, her hair an unruly cloud around her
head. She cracked open one eye, then smiled at me and closed it again.
"You know something, Tara?"
"What?" she murmured, nestling close to me.
"I just realized. Yesterday you wanted to me to fuck you but last night
you asked me to make love."
"Mmm-hmmm," she agreed, and yawned.
"Does that mean--?"
She opened her eyes and gave me a lazy smile. "I kept telling Shannon
how unreasonable you were being about this until finally Shannon told me
you were crazy about me. I told him _he_ was crazy."
She began to play with my nipples. I shivered.
"Why are you asking? You're the one who pointed out the difference,
remember?" She gave me an innocent look. "You mean you were going to
just fuck me after all, Mister Morality?"
"Uhhh--"
She chortled. "I've corrupted you. _I've_ corrupted _you_." She
straddled me and leaned down for a kiss, her breasts resting on my
chest. "The only problem is, no one will believe me."
[For other stories by Jordan Shelbourne, check The Ivory Gate web page,
http://www.u36.com/~jordan]
--
Story Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Newsgroup FAQ: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/faq.html>
Archive site: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> (Not pretty yet)