Author's Note: The story you are about to read is fiction. In real life, intelligent people use condoms.
Bobby grunted and then his arms gave out with exhaustion. He collapsed on top of me, sweating, puffing, his balls clearly empty and his seven inch cock, or so he claimed, already shriveled down to four inches. I wrapped my arms around him lovingly, to hold him tightly. It had been, as he had promised, the greatest sex of my life. Of course, that might also have been due to the fact that it had been the first time in my life that I ever let a boy make love to me.
By the time that I was eleven or twelve, Mom had let me know, in the most genteel way, that I was rapidly becoming one fine piece of ass. Not that it was much of a surprise to me, for by then enough uncles and cousins had given me those leering looks and ogles and had made those double entendres that reminded me how attractive I had become to the male of the species. I reveled in the attention of some of the boys in school sniffing around me like dogs in heat which, in retrospect, I guess they were.
As the months passed, and my body developed, I noticed that some of my girl friends were becoming a little distant. Mom described it as possibly being a manifestation of teenage jealousy. I reacted by going out of my way to be friendly with the girls, making sure that I always walked around in the school with one or another of them, confiding that I thought the latest sniffer was a dork and going out of my way make sure that my friends got all the attention that they desired from the boys in school. That made me even more popular with the girls than with the boys, in whom I had but a passing interest.
No, I'm not into girls. It's just that I paid attention to Mom when she gave me her little lectures about sex and discretion. I was quite satisfied with my own fingers — and my hidden vibrator — whenever I got the 'urge.' It amused me, forgive my arrogance, to know that when I paid the slightest attention to one of the boys at school, he would likely go home and spank his monkey while imaging himself fucking me. At least that's the way my much older big brother explained it to me once when I walked into his bedroom at exactly the wrong moment. No, I'm not into my big brother either, except as just a brother.
My cherry remained intact as I advanced through high school, although most of my girl friends had already succumbed to the blandishments of their boyfriends. As I said, I had enough offers but I was in no rush to surrender that membrane so symbolic of youth and purity. No for the third time, I had not taken any vow of chastity nor promised to save myself for marriage; do-it-yourself orgasms were just easier and less messy.
Daddy was a music lover: classical, semi-classical, show tunes, etc. Though I didn't have the 'ear' for music, it taught me to appreciate the good stuff. He left home when I was about thirteen. Well, maybe I shouldn't describe it 'leaving.' He had just returned home from a medical convention in California, arriving late morning on the red-eye. Mom and I picked him up at the airport and drove him home. As he showered, Mom and I, little Miss Goody Two-Shoes, decided to empty his suitcase and put his dirty stuff in the washing machine.
As I sorted white from colors, I said, "What's this, Mom?"
The instant that I said it, I knew that I shouldn't have opened my mouth. I certainly knew what 'this' was: a pair of flaming red, silk lace crotchless panties. There was a hard dried spot on the lace, and I had no doubt that it had been made by Daddy's cum. My face turned as red as the panties and Mom's mouth fell open. But just for a moment.
"Why don't you go kill some time over at the Mall, Kathy?" she said, but from her tone, it clearly wasn't a question.
I was out the following day when he came back with a truck for all of Daddy's stuff. Mom went into what she called her period of mourning, which lasted until the day the divorce papers were signed. Then she became a 'woman about town.' Two or three evenings a week she'd bring some stud home for the night. To me, they were just a different bunch of people staring at my ass and tits. When I got to be old enough to stay home alone, she'd do all-nighters at a guy's house.
And it was on one of those mornings, when I woke up in a vacant house while Mom was snuggled up against some stranger's naked ass — yes, she gave me reports with more detail than I wanted, pure TMI - across town, that I met Bobby. Once Mom started staying out all night, she was rarely home on a Sunday morning for church, and so I had gotten used to going by myself.
Serendipity? Who should happen to sit next to me than the handsomest young man I had ever seen. As the song goes, my heart skipped a beat. More importantly, my pussy began to gush. Can you imagine? Getting all wet down there, over someone I'd never met before, inside of a church? I thought for a moment that I would go straight to Hell. Sitting there, listening to what was going on, participating at all the right times, was mentally painful. Who was this Adonis? Why had I never seen him in church before? Where had he been all my life? That was the most important question of all. When it was time to leave, he turned to face me.
"I'm Bob. Most people call me Bobby."
"I'm Kathy," I said. "Who are you?"
"I just told you, I'm Bobby." Then he smiled, his sweet way of telling me that he really understood my question. "I'm a freshman at State, living in the dorm there. I'm from upstate, too far to go to my own church, and I thought I'd try this one."
"Would you like to have lunch somewhere?" I asked.
Understand please, that while I was a virgin in the true sense of the word, that is, with my hymen intact, I was not a prude. Asking a boy out had never been a problem for me. I'd dated plenty of boys and hadn't minded their hands all over me. I'd been topless in more than one back seat but had drawn the line at my waist, never allowing hands or fingers at my pussy, neither outside nor inside my panties.
On the other hand, I was far from a stranger to the taste of sperm, having long since discovered that a blowjob was an excellent way to send a boy home happy without having to fight off his entreaties to take my cherry.
I knew how this affected my reputation in school. There was an unspoken contest among the boys I had blown about which one of them would get my cherry, but I knew also that any of them who claimed to have found the Holy Grail — forgive my arrogant description of my virginity — was lying through his teeth.
And so my invitation to Bobby to have lunch was not at all out of character for me. What was unusual was my immediate decision to allow him — no, damn it, to offer to him — the prize that I had been keeping for just the right moment.
We dined, if you'll forgive that word, at the local burger hangout. There were enough empty tables that no one cared how long we sat there, talking and looking at each other, dropping subtle hints back and forth while at the same time pretending not to know what the other was suggesting. Finally, finally...
"Where do you live, Kathy?"
I shook my head. "My Mom's probably home by now. Let's go to your dorm room."
Thus was sealed the contract for the surrender of my maidenhead, though Bobby did not yet realize the special gift — special to me, anyway — that he would be receiving. Sealed without a kiss, without the adolescent groping that bridges the gap between seduction and foreplay. Sealed instead with a nod and a soft smile that assured me that I was in for a gentle afternoon.
The ride to his dorm was eerily silent. I thought of nothing but his sweetness; I feared that he thought of nothing but my pussy. The suite was empty, though it didn't matter; Bobby had his own room in the suite and his own bathroom. Our trip through the communal living room and past the shared kitchen left me unmoved. I was there for the bedroom.
With a mild apology for the tolerable mess, Bobby locked the bedroom door behind us. He spun around to face me and our lips met for the first time. My eyes closed; I could only hope that his did also. His lips were soft, exerting no pressure on my mouth. Though my drooling pussy expected a French kiss, he kept his tongue in check. Likewise his hands; they held me close enough so that my breasts pressed on his chest but his hands remained chastely on my back, not yet roaming as with most boys.
I stepped back away from him to unbutton the virginal while blouse I had donned that morning for church. Our eyes locked as I fumbled with my buttons while Bobby removed his tie and began work on his own shirt. A slight smile hinted on his face, but I relaxed as it became apparent that he was not leering. He was quickly topless, I almost as well though still wearing my bra. He stepped forward and we kissed again; his hands went behind me to unhook the bra. Funny, I thought, most boys would try to do that with one hand. I dropped my hands to let the pink lace cups fall to the floor.
Bobby bent to suckle on a nipple while the palm of his hand feathered its mate. I held his mouth to my breast as though he were the baby that I someday hoped to have. And as I had that thought, my subconscious mind added the words 'with him' and my body shivered with the effrontery of that thought about a young man that I had just met. In church, no less.
Again we parted, this time each with a slight look of embarrassment as my skirt and his slacks were removed from the field of battle. I stood in bikinis, pink to match the bra. Why had I worn bikinis, I wondered? Was it because Mom was doing an all-nighter with some man who cared only about fucking her and it excited me? Or was it because I somehow knew that I would meet Bobby that day? Silly thoughts, I knew, but what can you expect from a girl who suddenly realizes that there really may be such a thing as 'love at first sight.'
No, I don't think I was in love, not at that moment anyway, but I was for the first time in my life in real serious lust. I knew that before I went home, before I saw Mom again, that I would be a woman in every sense of the word, that I would have given my body to this handsome devil, no, not devil, to this handsome angel, to use as he pleased and to pleasure me as my fingers or my vibrator had never pleasured me.
Bobby wore jockey shorts. I knew that the awesome tent in front was because of me and I resolved to earn that compliment. I dropped to my knees in front of him and swiftly pulled down his shorts. His member popped out into the fresh air and stared at me with its single eye, an eye shedding a tear of joy in the form of pre-cum. I took it in hand and licked off the droplet, then blew a puff of warm air on it.
His hand touched my head. I had sucked enough cocks in my life to know when a boy wants to make sure that my mouth doesn't get away. Sometimes the hand is tight because he wants more than to be sucked, he wants to actually fuck my face. But from Bobby I could tell that the hand was for a caress. You might say that he was petting me as one would pet a dog or cat, but I felt no insult, just the soft touch of one who would be a lover as I meant to be a lover.
My tongue licked along his shaft as I held his sac, feeling the two little guys resting comfortably as they readied themselves for the task of producing that creamy ivory gift of love for my palate. Yet that was not to be, for as my mouth engulfed his turgid cock, Bobby reached down, grabbed me under the arms and lifted me off the floor. He carried me to his bed and laid me on it.
"I don't want that, Kathy. I want to make love to you, I want to make love with you."
"I've never,,, I'm a virgin, Bobby," I whispered to him.
"I thought so," he said. "I'll be careful."
I closed my eyes, somehow thinking that what was to follow should be felt and not seen. Soft fingers went under my waistband and began to slide my panties down, my ass lifting to facilitate his work. Without instruction, I knew to spread my legs. But when the touch of his cheeks pressed against my inner thighs, my eyes opened again. How could I not watch as this beautiful young man taught me the sensations of cunnilingus, the thrill of my pussy being eaten?
No one had ever seen me exposed as I was, seen the soft blonde fuzz surrounding and protecting my femininity. I had to watch Bobby's face, had to enjoy the flattery of his eyes examining me so closely, of his nose oh so silently making sure that I was clean down there, of his tongue and lips sending electric shocks throughout my body.
So this is what the girls have been talking about, I thought to myself, as his tongue, his obviously experienced tongue began to trace its way up between my labia and wash around my clitoris peeking out. Unlike the gentle way that Bobby had caressed my head before I had tried to suck his cock, I reacted roughly. I grabbed to back of his head and pulled him tightly against me, trying to pull his head deep inside me. Had it been physically possible, I would have used his nose to break my cherry.
His head fought back, pulling up until I gave him slack, allowing him to perform his ministrations at his own pace. With only my own fingers and a vibrator for comparison, I quickly decided that being serviced as I was by another human being was the preferred way to go. Bobby's tongue licked all over, it invaded inside me. His mouth sucked up the lubrication pouring out of me. His lips fastened on and nursed from my clit. I was getting so close, so close to that wonderful scream of release, knowing that there was no one around for the noise to embarrass me, that I didn't have to hold it back the way I often had to do when Mom was in the house.
My body went rigid and I screamed out my orgasm, again trying to pull Bobby's head right inside me. Alas, it didn't fit. Equally alas, he kept sucking on my clit, not stopping until I reversed course and pushed his head away so that my sensitive little orgasmal lighting rod could recover.
I had cum but Bobby hadn't, so he was still rarin' to go. His hard cock rubbed along my legs and inner thighs as he slid up my body until his head was over mine. Our lips met and mine parted to allow his tongue to enter my mouth. The aroma, the taste were things recognizable from my fingers after bouts of masturbation. Suddenly it occurred to me: what I was inhaling and tasting was not from my vagina, nor from my pussy. No, the source of those things now deserved to be called my cunt!