Chapter 3: Roller Coaster

Chapter Cast:

Carrie, Female, 15
- Narrator, high school freshman
- Beige, freckled skin, 5'4, 130lbs, curly back-length dark-red hair
Henri ('on-REE') LaBlount, Male, 23
- Substitute Spanish teacher
- Medium-brown skin, 5'4, 145lbs, short, straight black hair

I fucked Henri four more times that school year. Well, on four more occasions, anyway, one of them was several different times in one night. The last three were quickies, his fear of getting caught forcing us to meet quietly for a few minutes in the woods where I'd suck him before he licked me a bit, then slid his penis inside of me from behind.

Yes, I got to suck his dick. I'll tell you about the second time we had sex, the best of all the times I enjoyed with Henri, and for moments, the worst as well.

On our scheduled Friday rendezvous, I told my Mom I was sleeping over at a friend's house and walked two blocks down the street to where the neighborhood ended and the woods began. Henri met me there and we rode to his place.

He wore a dark suit and tie, had just come from a different school he'd worked at that week. He looked so hot, his brown skin so delicious to look at. The moment I got in the car I could feel myself becoming wet. The anticipation for taking Henri inside me again set me abuzz.

We talked about how the week had gone, whether things had gotten any better with the 'Loose Girl' crisis (it hadn't), if I still wanted to see him (I did), and if I could really stay the night with him (I could).

At his house, he made himself a drink, then looked at me, unsure what to do. I spoke up, "I'd love one, thanks." I'd drank before, mostly beer, but one time, Fawn had gotten ahold of a bottle of peach schnapps and I then drank so much I nearly vomited.

Henri made me the same drink he had. I asked, "what is it?"

"Whisky sour."

"Oh." I sipped it, found it as sweet as it was tart, and the whisky felt smooth going down, building a slow-burning fire in my stomach that matched the one burning in my crotch.

Henri sat next to me on the couch, a bit stiff for a few minutes. I imagine he was weighing all the things that could go wrong with me there, with him fucking me. Whatever it was, he soon had his hand on my thigh, and I sat my drink aside when he knelt down between my legs.

My blue skirt ran over my knees, so he had to lift it and push it to my waist to see my white cotton panties. Henri pushed his head down, and I heard him inhale, his nose touching the fabric. He said, "mmmm ... oh ... yes..."

He inhaled again, then pulled my panties to the side and licked my cunt. Fire raced up my labia and to my clit, my womanhood standing up quickly, became the center of my throbbing pleasure as his fingers ran over my nub. Henri's tongue swept into my puss, licked me deep inside.

I lost myself in his touch, his tongue. When his other hand slid under my shirt, pushed up my bra, and caressed my breast, I let go. Trembling boiling fire crashed from my clit and into my puss, then down my legs. Waves flowed through, I floated on the top, pleasure flooding my senses.

Henri lapped and licked and ate everything that drooled from body. My vagina swelled with his lips kissing them, my slickness growing as my orgasm washed through.

He stood then, knelt, and started to put a condom on his penis. I stopped him, "wait. I want to put you in my mouth."

He smiled, stood, and took my hands, pulling me to my feet for another kiss. I tasted myself on his lips, on his tongue, and I loved it. I moaned as my hand found his penis. It felt so warm, the flesh firm but giving. Precum ran from his slit, and my hand rubbed it into his length. Henri groaned as I stroked him. I wasn't sure what I was doing, didn't know for sure it was the 'right way, ' but Henri never complained, and his moans were pleasant and sincere.

Henri moved around and sat on the couch, his hard long cock standing proud. I knelt down, considered whether I should tell him that I'd never had a penis in my mouth before, decided to do my best to fake it.

There was something instinctive in taking a cock in my mouth. I stared at Henri's throbbing dick, held tightly in my hand, felt my mouth and tongue forming a channel I thought would feel right.

I slid the head of his penis inside, and for the first time, I got the rush of tasting a cock in my mouth. I love the way cock tastes. Later, I'd know how different men had such different flavors, but that night, Henri's dick was everyman's dick. He tasted warm and a bit salty, the precum was light and a bit oily. His flesh made me tingle as I held a couple of inches in my mouth.

Henri helped me learn what to do next. His hips pushed up slightly and I held still, then he withdrew, down to the tip. Back in, and my head moved on its own, down, taking him deeper in my mouth. His hips matched my head as I got used to feeling his hot penis on my tongue.

He groaned as he arched up, cried out, "said ... oh ... Carrie ... can't hold much longer ... gonna cum, Sweetie..."

I'd seen porn videos of all types even at fifteen, and I knew the general 'spit, duck, or swallow' choice. I wanted to swallow. Henri's penis expanded between my lips, and when the first shot of semen hit my throat, I held still.

He groaned loud, long, deep pleasure rushing into his body as he began to fill my mouth. He thrust in jerks, and I struggled to keep him inside, struggled not to choke on the thick fluids collecting in my throat. I felt each spray of cum, felt it pooling on the back of my tongue, wondered if I was going to die choking on Henri's cock.

His hands held my head still while the last of his load flowed into my mouth. I was having a hard time breathing and slowly backed off, letting his penis fall from my lips. I managed to catch the load before I drooled it, and held it a moment.

It was a little gross, in both flavor and texture. The thick semen was still warm, and the longer I held it, the harder it was to try to swallow it. My tongue pushed up and I forced down the cum. Some caught in my mouth and I almost lost it. I swallowed again, Henri pushed my drink into my hand, and the whisky sour washed his sperm into my stomach.

I relaxed, felt a small amount of pride at having sucked Henri to an orgasm with my mouth, then managing to swallow it. I fell onto the couch and he kissed me hard. His penis was wet, sperm still slowly pulsing from the tip and running down his shaft.

My jaws felt sore then. I realized some of my trouble swallowing was the stiffness in the muscles there. I worked my jaw a few times, Henri said, "little too much, maybe? It will pass ... ever ... ever done that before?"

"Never."

"I'm your first. I feel so special. Didn't think you were going to swallow it. Your first time, and you swallowed it. Nice."

I smiled, cum still on my chin, "I like that ... wanted to do that to you last week, been thinking about it a lot. Wondered what you'd taste like when you shot. Now I know."

"And how do I taste?"

One of those white lies I told so easily. "Good. Liked it."

We kissed again, then Henri suggested dinner. He made us omelets and creamed spinach. All evening he ran his hands freely over me, and I let him. I loved the attention, loved Henri, and did the same with him. It was caring, lovely. I knew he loved me, and I tried hard to think of some way to move in with him.

Ahh ... daydreams of a fifteen-year old girl. Now, of course, I see how silly it was to believe the fairy tale that was Henri, but then, oh, then I was just in love with the man. I don't know how else to describe it. He cared about me, needed me at a time in my life that I had to have those things. Who could blame me for believing it would last forever?

Anyway, after dinner, Henri and I showered together. In some ways, it was more awkward than having sex with him. I watched him rub soap on his cloth and wash his cock and balls. When it came time to clean myself, I worried about whether I should use his cloth to wipe my butt, whether to let him see me doing that. It felt like one of those moments that was supposed to be done in private, but Henri's eyes never left my backside as I stood under the water and ran the cloth quickly through my crack.

Clean and dried, he led us to his bedroom. It was tidy, a large, low-frame king-sized bed with a thick, brown comforter. Henri's touch was always gentle, even when we later were forced into quickies in the woods. He always took the care to touch me like I was delicate, and I admit that touches like Henri's still make me feel very attracted to whoever is with me. He led my body onto the bed, head on the pillows, and he kissed my lips, my neck, had me trembling in anticipation as his hands explored my breasts.

I've always had very round breasts. From the first moments my chest began to swell around my twelfth birthday, they were round, never conical or particularly puffy. I had dark-red areolae even then that drew tightly to half their size when I was turned on or cold. My nipples were small but would grow later, then just little red nubs that barely pushed out my t-shirts.

Henri sucked my nipples and I felt wonderful. He stroked my thigh, let his palm rest over my sex, his tongue tasting my breasts. I sighed and ran my hands through his hair, willed his body into mine.

He wasn't in a hurry, slid his body down, parted my thighs, and licked my puss slowly. He tickled the dark-red pubes which covered my vulva, used a hand to part my labia, and licked inside my vagina, moaning into my opening.

I don't know how long Henri ate me but I came twice, two soft, slow orgasms that rolled through before crashing over me. It was his slow pace, his careful use of his fingers, the gentle rhythm that sent me over the edge each time. I thought about nothing, lost in the touches, the kisses, his wonderful tongue in my cunt.

When I came down from my last climax, he rose over me, penis in hand, condom already in place. I instinctively spread my legs wider, rolled my hips up, my feet in the air. I panted heavily as Henri penetrated me again, and my mind went blank as he sank deep into my body.

I love being receptive. Something about opening myself like that, opening myself and letting a man put a part of his body inside mine. I loved the feeling of it, the wonderful fullness that every penis can give. Henri's penis was perfect inside me, his thrusts firm but well-paced. My world open to his body, I laid back and let the man fuck me like he loved me.

He humped me like that for several minutes, sometimes pausing to lean in for a kiss, once pulling back to lick me again. Then he pulled me up and turned me over, placed me on all fours. I knew what doggy-style was even if I'd never done it before.

I smelled myself then, really the first time I'd noticed the scent of my wet puss with someone else there. It turned me on to know that Henri probably smelled me too. Later in life, I'd worry if that was a good thing or a turn off for my partner, but that night, all I knew is that he never hesitated to put himself back in my vagina, his body humping against mine once more.

Doggy-style is so different than on my back. I had a bit more sense of control, could 'fuck him' in the normal sense of the phrase. As he humped me, I pushed back, drove him into my body, his penis stretching me with each stroke. With my hand I found my clit as we fucked like that, and it didn't take long for me to orgasm.

I felt almost delirious with Henri fucking me from behind, my orgasm crashing in waves through my body. He was grunting, I felt his penis swelling inside me. My labia felt swollen around his cock, his hard, pounding cock. His hands on my waist grasped me tighter, pulling me into him as he humped me. My ass smacked against his body with each movement, the slap-slap-slap of our flesh becoming a drumbeat that drove us both faster.