White

by Uther Pendragon

Copyright© 2011 by Uther Pendragon

Romantic Sex Story: Sharon was willing to give Don Grant her virginity, but he wants more.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   School   .

“Oh, Sharon.” He kissed her, tasting her freshness and youth over the hamburgers and fries they’d just eaten. Her breasts were firm through blouse and bra.

“Oh, Don.” Calling Mr. Grant by his first name was still a thrill. He knew so much! History, sure. He’d even made history sound interesting. But he knew so much about life, about women, about her. Where boys groped, he caressed. Where boys got there’s, he cared about her responses.

He’d already sent in his resignation from the school district. Come September, come the time Sharon decided to move on if that were earlier, he’d go look for a third career. Teachers don’t date students. High-school teachers sure don’t date girls going into their Junior year. But he’d take Sharon over a career any day. In his eight years as a widower, he’d never met a woman to match her. And Sharon was only beginning. He’d seen her go from being satisfied with a kiss to the point where she hungered for her second climax of the session. And, thinking of that, wasn’t it time for her first?

As Don’s kisses left her mouth to her ear and down her throat, she unbuttoned her blouse. He didn’t grab; he didn’t force; he didn’t take. He gave, and -- in response -- she gave what she wished to give. He stopped on the special spot at the back of her neck. The kisses and licks there made her rush to get the blouse unbuttoned. When it was, he moved back to give her room to remove both bra and blouse. Afterwards, though, he went back to the same spot on her neck. She had to be content with his hand on her breast for the longest time. When his trail of kisses finally reached the left nipple, she held him there. When she released his head, he backed off the couch to give her room. When she lay down, he was kissing her right breast and stoking her thighs.

He loved her warm, soft, furry, labia. He especially loved the moisture within that reported her arousal. He timed it so that he reached her nipple with his mouth and her clit with his finger at the same time. He licked and sucked and stroked. She sighed and wiggled. He could see the arousal as her face went from a smile to a frown, could see her abdomen tense, could see her hands drop from his arm to the couch cushions.

She loved him, never more than at this time, but her attention turned inward. Warmth spread downward from her breast where he licked, upward from her pussy where he rubbed. He was so gentle; she was never as gentle with herself. And, while his way took longer, it took her much higher. And it was doing so now. There was as string running through her from his mouth to his finger. It tightened and tightened. She tightened and tightened.

Then, the string broke. She flew as her body went through spasm after spasm.

When she returned to earth, it was with Don kissing her forehead and holding her breast. She rested, then reached up to move his lips where they belonged. He resisted only long enough to kiss the tip of her nose on the way. Then, they were kissing. Their tongues were touching, licking each other. When his tongue retreated, hers followed. He sucked her tongue gently. Finally, she pushed him back. She’d made her decision, and this last session on his couch had only confirmed that decision. He was the man, even if he was the only man she knew in this way. She sat up straight.

“Remember,” she said while rising, “the first time I visited here? You told me that I set the limits. You wouldn’t cross any line I drew.”

“Certainly.” Her first visit to his condo was burnt into his memory. “If I’ve transgressed a boundary, it was inadvertent. Tell me, and I’ll be certain to respect it in the future. Tell me a new boundary, even, and I’ll respect that.”

“It’s more like that. You’ve never done anything I didn’t want you to do.” Now, not doing things she’d wanted him to do, that was a different story. Well, that was ending today. “Where is your bedroom?” She thought of taking off her skirt. Actually, she should leave her tennies and socks out here. He still looked puzzled. “I’ve decided. There are no more lines. I’m giving myself to you.” He didn’t move.

“For how long?” If she were willing to go that far, she might be willing to go one step further.

“Well,” He should know her schedule. “I still have to be home at six o’clock for dinner.” She could get longer for dates, but she didn’t want to tell her parents she was dating Don.

“Not quite what I meant. Are you giving yourself to me for tonight, or for the rest of my life?”

“What are you asking?” Is it what it sounded like?

“What I should be asking is whether you will marry me. That’s the real question. You’re willing to have an affair with me. Are you willing to have a marriage with me?”

“You don’t have to marry me to sleep with me.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear. But I have to marry you to be married to you. That’s what I want. Sharon will you marry me?” Maybe that was one step too far. Maybe they should have sex this afternoon and he should propose later. But that would be devious thinking. He’d handled this relationship, however deviously the two of them had treated the rest of the world, with complete openness towards her. Well, complete openness since school let out.

“Are you proposing?” Now, that was a stupid question. “Yes. Oh, yes!”

“All right. Now we are agreed. We have to figure out a lot of other things. You’ve never had sex with a man?” Or, presumably, a boy.

“I’ve never gone as far as I have with you.”

“Then I’d like the next step to be the wedding. I’d like you to wear white.” He didn’t want to marry his mistress, his despoiled-child mistress. “Actually, we have a great many things to plan.”

“Today?” She wanted to marry him, but she wanted this date, too.

“I don’t think so. Can you keep this a secret for a while longer? I think we have to plan everything, including how to tell your parents.”

“I suppose.” She couldn’t tell anyone. Well, she hadn’t been able to tell anyone about Don, anyway.

“Then, I take it back. There is one step in between. Are you certain you want to see my bedroom?”

“Sure.” She felt less sure than she had minutes ago. Then, she was going to give herself to him, going to experience what all the talk was about. Now? What was going to happen now? But he was walking towards the door. She had been clear enough where his bedroom was. She’d been in the bathroom and the closet next to the door was obvious. The only other inner door led to his bedroom. The room was neat; the bed made.

Don felt that she looked unsure of herself. Well, that was understandable, and the cure was as obvious as it was pleasant. Their kiss was sweet, then -- as his hands stroked up and down her back -- ardent. He guided her to the bed.

“Sit first,” he said when she started to lie down. He knelt in front of her and took off her shoes and socks. Then his hands stroked up her legs. “I’ve always said that I didn’t take your clothes off -- that it was your decision each time. Will you let me take off the rest of your clothes?”

“Yes.” She had, after all decided to give herself to him. But she thought he had refused. Well, the rules were different for engaged couples.

He helped her up, figured out how to undo the skirt, slipped it off. He lay it on the other side of the bed. Should have a chair handier. He kissed her, tongue touching tongue, hands stroking back until they reached her sweet butt. Then he kissed a line down to her throat. He broke the kiss to watch himself remove the panties. Her mound was as sweet as her breasts were. The hair was bronze to the gold of her head. When the panties were pooled around her ankles, she stepped out of them. She looked at him before she lay down. The expression was unreadable.

Was she going to see him naked, now? Sex-ed was never as clear as you wanted it to be, but those books -- as well as the novels -- were definite that you don’t wear clothes to make love. Instead, he came over to the bed to kiss her again. This time the trail of kisses went all the way down to her breast. Then his hand returned to her pussy. When she responded to his strokes there, his kisses trailed lower. He wasn’t! But the novels suggested that he would, and that she should protest. But they also suggested that she would enjoy it. The heroines had never read the books. While she was considering whether a protest would be appropriate, he reached her pussy.

She had thought his fingers were gentle and delightful, Hie mouth was twice as gentle and ten times as delightful. The warmth spread though her body. The string tightened. When it broke, she flew. But his mouth didn’t leave her. Indeed, she felt his finger enter her. She flew again and again. She convulsed in agony which was also the greatest pleasure she had ever known. When he finally let her alone, she collapsed.

Don kissed down Sharon’s lithe body from her breast towards her labia. A glance at her face when he climbed between her feet showed her puzzled but not resistant. When he kissed her center, she opened her legs more. Her exciting aroma showed that she was already aroused. He licked her to her second orgasm of the afternoon. When it was subsiding, he inserted one finger and rubbed it around her entranceway. The hymen hadn’t disappeared, but it was rudimentary. He stretched it one more time, then inserted two fingers until they touched her G-spot. Then he licked her clitoris and rubbed her G-spot through three more orgasms. When he was done, she sank down limply.

He kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her. He was dressed otherwise. He rested his hand on her shoulder. When she turned towards him, he kissed her forehead and then her lips. He stroked down her arm to her hip.

“But you’re still dressed,” she said. “Don’t you want me?” The last hour had been glorious, but all the time she’d spent deciding to give herself to him had been wasted. Or had it?

“Come closer.” He hugged her by the butt until his erection pressed into her abdomen. “Feel that? Know what that is?” She nodded. “That means I want you, want you right now. But what I want more is to have you for life. You’ve said you’ll marry me. That’s more important.”

“You could have both.” Although she was no longer so interested in going all the way. That last experience had been wonderful, but it had drained her.

“I want my virgin bride. I want my virgin bride, Sharon. Now, if you want a shower, you can wrap your hair in a towel It won’t get all that wet.”

“No.” It was hot out there, an excuse for any amount of sweat. “I’ll just dress and go home.”

“The next time, we’ll plan.” And he put his shoes back on and drove her to a corner two blocks from her home.

“Are you certain you want to marry me, even if your parents say no,” Don asked when they could get together again.

“I’m sure.” She loved Don, She wanted to marry him; she wanted to have sex with him every night. And he seemed to want to delay having sex until the marriage. ‘Even if’ seemed a weak condition. Mom and Dad were certain to say no.

“Then let’s get all our ducks in a row before we tell them.” He’d been a parent of teenagers himself. He could imagine their response. “You’re going to be 17 when?”

“The 12th.”

“Let’s get the marriage license after that. I’ll check on the rules. Then the engagement ring. If they don’t come around, you’ll come back with me and we’ll get married the next day.”

Sharon was happy enough to follow Don’s plans. It wasn’t only that they didn’t pet until the plans were agreed. His plans had her finishing high school and going to college just like Mom and Dad wanted. But they wanted her to do that before she started to live. Don’s plans had her doing that while living an exciting life. When ‘all the ducks’ were ‘in a row,’ they went to her house. She had scarf -- a fashion statement nothing to keep you warm -- twisted about her left hand.

“Dad, this is Don Grant.” She raised her voice. “Mom could you come in here and sit down? I have something to tell you.” When everybody was seated, Don’s plan again, she said. “This is Don Grant. We’re engaged.” She uncovered the ring on her hand. The scarf went around her neck where it looked better, if not appropriate to the rest of her clothes.

“You’re not pregnant?” Mrs. Bartlett asked. Don took over, as they had agreed.

“No she isn’t. That’s the good news. Now for the bad. I’m 47, a widower. I have two sons older than Sharon.”

“Couldn’t you wait?” That was the father, trying to bargain. Well, that was better than throwing him out of the house.

“Not really. If I were her age, we could talk every day in school. I could take her to dances, the movies, out for hamburgers and shakes. As it is, we have to sneak around. We can’t kiss in public, can’t even hold hands in public. We can be married publicly; she’s old enough for that. We can’t date publicly.”

“Talking about sneaking around, we’ve never even heard of you.” The father was still talking.

“That’s not true,” Sharon said. “I told you all about him. He’s Mr. Grant who taught history last year.” Not that they had listened, but when did they ever listen?

“Does the school know about this?” The mother still hadn’t said anything.

“No. Before they do, the school board will gave processed my resignation. If the state allows marriage at 17, the school system wouldn’t approve of marrying one of your students.”

“And, then, how will you support her?” Don kept his smile to himself. Mr. Bartlett was looking for arguments against the marriage, but he hadn’t found one.

“Quite easily. I have six-figure investment earnings.” He saw a look of puzzlement on Sharon’s face. “That’s more than $100,000.”

“You can run through $100,000 quite fast if you don’t have a salary.”

“I didn’t make myself clear, Mr. Bartlett.” He’d made himself quite clear, but the father was grasping at straws. “That’s more than $100,000 income a year.” Sharon was still looking puzzled. “Of all the things which we’ve discussed, that didn’t come up. I’d have told you later. Look, let me go back and set a context.

“A decade ago, I was working in the investment business and making an obscene amount of money. I was married to a woman I loved and had two sons I loved. I wasn’t, however, spending enough time with any of them. The family joke was that I made money and Gretchen made a difference. She was a schoolteacher. Someday, we told ourselves, I would get out of the rat race and we would travel and enjoy all that money I was bringing in. That was not to be.

“My wife came down with cancer. She was feeling tired and depressed for the second half of the school year, but she put off going to the doctor until vacation time. She didn’t live nine months after the diagnosis. Well, I could tell that I had screwed up my priorities. But I had two sons who had lost their mother, really, their only parent. I hadn’t been around all that much. I wasn’t going to change any of the rest of their lives. I kept my job, but scaled back my hours to something closer to 40 hours a week. I scaled back my consumption, if not the boys’ consumption. I socked money away towards the day I could walk away.

“My older boy is out of college and working. When my younger boy took a summer internship rather than come home for vacation, I asked him if he minded my selling the house. I did, quit my job, and took an MAT -- a Master in Art in Teaching. I wanted to make a difference myself. I came to Chicago, bought a condo, and took a job teaching history. I met Sharon the second year I taught. The rest you know.

“Anyway, as far as finances go, I could live comfortably the rest of my life without any salary. I don’t think I could enjoy life without working, but the salary isn’t the necessary part. Even when Sharon goes to college, her tuition will come out of current income, not out of savings.”

“You seem to have thought all this out.” At last, the mother chimed in.

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