Chapter 5: Our Last Night Together

That last Sunday, Pam asked me to come over early. She wanted to prepare a special dinner for us, even though Missy and I had enjoyed a great meal the night before. I was a little nervous about spending much time with Pam after everything that had happened between her daughter and me.

Pam greeted me at the door with a quick peck on the cheek. I followed her to the kitchen, greeted by the wonderful aroma of baked salmon and rosemary potatoes. Missy was setting the table and gave me a sly grin when I started helping her. Everything seemed normal, which was a relief. While we ate, Pam kept complimenting me on how well things had gone while I had been, in her words, watching over her daughter. When she said that, all I saw in my mind was me looking down at Missy as I was deflowering her. I even felt myself blushing a little. Missy seemed to be reading my mind because she let out a little giggle that Pam didn’t quite understand.

“What’s so funny?” Pam asked.

“It’s just how you said, watching over me, Mom. Believe it or not, there were times when he didn’t even check up on me for like, hours at a time. It was more like he was just here to carry me out if the house caught fire.”

Pam turned to me and said, “I don’t know how you put up with this little smartass, Tim. You must have a lot of patience.”

“Oh, she has her moments,” I said.

“Hey,” Missy complained, “I’m right here.”

It went on that way until we finished eating. Then Pam got ready to go to work while Missy and I cleared the table and started doing the dishes. While we were alone, I asked her, “Are you okay?”

“You mean, do I have any soreness?”

“Well, that, but I’m also wondering if you have any regrets.”

She stopped washing the dishes for a moment and looked at me. “The only regret I have is that I wish we had started doing that earlier, so we would have more time to fuck.”

“Missy, language,” I said, repeating something I had heard her mom say the first night she had met me.

She started washing again, then started humming ‘Yellow Submarine’. That’s a hard song to resist, so we sang it together, like the world’s worst Beatles cover band.

When Pam returned, in her nurse’s uniform, she said, “I was afraid you two might be sad tonight, but it sounds like you’re happy. I heard you all the way down the hall.”

“Oh,” Missy told her, “I’ll be sad next weekend when I have to spend it with you.”

“There she goes,” Pam said, looking at me. “Anyway, be good, and I’ll see you in the morning. And Tim, thanks again for taking such good care of my little girl and putting up with all her snark.”

After she left, Missy didn’t waste any time. “How many condoms did you bring?

“Six,” I told her, trying to keep a straight face.

She laughed, which eventually became a snort, the first time I heard her make that very unladylike sound. “Three should be plenty, if you’re man enough.”

“You’re awfully confident for a barely devirginized girl,” I teased.

“Devirginized? I don’t think that’s a word. Isn’t deflowered more like it?”

“Whatever. Just curious, what did you do with the bloody sheet?”

“Oh, glad you reminded me. I need to wash it. It’s stashed in my closet.”

She got up, headed to her room, and returned a moment later with evidence of my crime. She took it to the utility room, and I heard the washer start a moment later. When she came back, she sat down next to me.

“You think it’ll clean up okay?” I asked.

“I sprayed it with the same stuff mom uses, so I hope so. If not, I’ll tell Mom I had a messy period.”

I hadn’t even been aware that she had any periods while we had been together. Some women and girls can hide their cramps and discomfort, and apparently, Missy was one of those. I thought back to a few times when she had been particularly moody and wondered if I had just missed the signals. It did kind of explain her interest in me using condoms. Pregnancy was a real possibility that neither one of us wanted.

We sat on our familiar sofa, watching TV for a while, almost as if nothing had changed between us. That lasted for an hour or so; then Missy grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. She turned to face me and said, “Tim, do you love me? Honest answer, please.”

“I’m not sure if I know how it feels to love a woman.”

“You didn’t love your high school girlfriend?”

“Like I said, I guess I don’t know what love is supposed to feel like. I know that I like you more than any other girl or woman I’ve known, so maybe that’s love.”

That at least made her smile. “Okay, I guess I can accept that. Not a fair question anyway. So, did you really like making love to me last night, or was it just an adventure for you, doing something forbidden, another notch on your belt?”

There was that strangely perceptive Missy again. I wondered if she was going to grow up to be a lawyer. This was turning into an interrogation. She was making me question myself and my motives. Had it just been a walk on the wild side, something I could remember for the rest of my life, or had we been, as she put it, making love? I liked that term better than the ‘f’ word that seemed to roll off her tongue so easily. “You kinda blackmailed me, remember? But, once we were in bed together, it changed. The only reason I was reluctant was that I didn’t want to hurt you. I have strong feelings for you, Melissa, so maybe that is love.”

That was what she wanted to hear. She leaned forward, and we kissed, just lips on lips, no hugging. When we came up for air, I asked the question I knew she was waiting for. “Do you love me?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Of course I do, dummy. Do you think I let you take my cherry just because you happened to be around? And yes, I’m pretty sure I know what love feels like, and it’s not this.”

I was still trying to figure out what that last statement meant when she hauled off and hit me. Fortunately, it was my stomach she aimed for, and not my testicles, because she hit hard. “What the fuck is that for?” I hollered after I got my breath back.

She sat back and looked at me with what I assumed she thought was an innocent look. She even put a finger against her lips, like a naughty five-year-old. “Ohh, was I bad?”

“Yes, damn it. That hurt.”

“Do I need to be punished?” she asked, her voice taking on the timber of the naughty young girl she had decided to act as.

I might have been a little slow, but I finally realized what was happening. “Yes, Melissa, you need to be punished.”

She sighed, resigned to her fate. “Just not with the brush this time, okay? It hurt.”

I was more than willing to go along with her little roleplay, even though it did make me wonder what kind of creature was emerging from the cute teen I had met just a few months earlier. “Okay, take off your jeans and lie down across my legs. Let’s do it right.”

She stood up and slipped her denim pants off, then her white panties, even though I hadn’t ordered her to go that far. I moved to the middle of the sofa so she could lie over me. Once she was draped across my thighs, she turned to look at me and said, “Don’t do it too hard. I just want to see what it feels like when you’re not mad.”

“Who said I’m not mad,” I growled as I began slapping her bare butt. I watched as the pale skin of the part of her body that never saw sunlight started turning pink. She was squirming a little, and I wondered if she regretted asking for this. That didn’t stop me; I kept swatting away, alternating from one cheek to the other, until I began to tire.

“Now, have you learned your lesson, young lady?”

As she got up, she looked at me with a sly Missy-grin, and said, “What I learned was that I kinda like that, and I think you did too. She was staring at my crotch, and when I looked down, I realized what she meant. My excitement was evidenced by the bulge in my pants.

Missy wasn’t done with her surprises that night. She got on her knees in front of me and unzipped my jeans. I didn’t try to stop her, even cooperating by raising my hips as she pulled them down along with my boxers. So, there we were, both naked from the waist down.

She wrapped her fingers around my erection and bent it toward her mouth. She looked at it momentarily, then said, “I want to do it right this time, like a woman.” She wrapped her lips around the head, then paused, as if unsure what to do next. I put my hand on her head and gently pushed it forward. If she wanted to be treated like a woman, I was ready to let her find out.

Gradually, she slid her lips further down my shaft, carefully avoiding rubbing my tender skin on her teeth. I’m not hung like a porn star, but still, when she got about halfway down, she began to gag a little. “You don’t have to go all the way. The most sensitive part is around the top anyway.”

I think she smiled at me, but it was hard to tell with a mouthful of cock. A quick learner, she began bobbing her head with just the saliva-coated knob of my organ between her lips, avoiding any further gagging. It felt so good that I was in danger of giving her another mouthful of Tim cream, which I did not want to do. I needed to save my energy for later.

“Stop,” I told her. “You’re doing great, but I don’t want to cum yet. We still have a long night in front of us.”

She let my cock slip out of her mouth with a wet slurp and stood up. “Now it’s your turn. Do me, you know, like you did last night, with your mouth.”

“Okay, but let’s go do it in your bed. I think we’ll be more comfortable.”

She jumped up and ran down the hall to her room, needling no further encouragement from me. I wasn’t far behind her, and when we got there, it only took us a few seconds to finish disrobing. I was almost getting used to seeing Missy naked, but it still excited me to see that slim body, those tennis-ball-sized breasts, and of course, that nearly invisible slit peeking out from between her slender thighs.

She was staring at me but not at my eyes. Her gaze was directed at my hard cock, still damp with her spit, proudly erect and pointing at her. I wanted to take her right then, but she had told me what she wanted first.

She sat on the edge of her bed, letting her legs dangle down. “Get on your knees,” she said.

“Damn, you’re kinda bossy.”

“You’re just now figuring that out? Come on, eat my pussy.”

Again, I was surprised to hear those words coming from her mouth. I reminded myself that maybe fourteen wasn’t as young as I had thought, and girls her age probably enjoyed using that kind of language.

“Yes ma’am,” I said, as I knelt in front of her. I pushed her legs further apart and bent to my assigned task. I opened her outer lips with two fingers and started licking. She started moaning almost as soon as I began, which was a good sign. I found her clit, or what I thought was her clit. It was so tiny I couldn’t be sure until I started teasing it with my tongue and saw how she reacted. Yep, that was it. Her thighs clamped tightly around my head, pressing almost painfully against my ears.

I pulled out all the lingual tricks I could think of, which weren’t that many, trying to bring her to a climax. I took a moment to look up. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling. I licked my index finger and used it to probe her recently opened blossom. There was no barrier this time, but she still had the tightness of a young girl. It felt like her vagina was gripping my finger like a newborn baby latching on to Mommy’s nipple. I couldn’t tell if that reflex was her body trying to stop further intrusion or welcoming me in. From how she reacted, I went with the more optimistic choice and kept prodding in and out. At the same time, I began sucking on her clit, or the general area around it. That did the trick.

Missy put her feet on my shoulders and pushed her pelvis up, pressing her now dripping pussy tightly against my mouth. A second or two later, I heard her cry out, not loud enough to scare the neighborhood dogs, but by far, it was the loudest response I had heard from her. Her legs relaxed, drooping back over my shoulders. I looked up again; her eyes were open this time, and she was smiling.

“Was that a...?”

“That was,” I told her, feeling proud that I had gotten her off with just my mouth and finger.

“Damn,” she said, “I want more of that.”

I felt a bit like Dr. Frankenstein. Had I created a sexual monster, or had she been ready for someone to open that part of her psyche? “Don’t expect treatment like that from many boys,” I warned her.

“Guess I’ll have to date older guys then,” she giggled.

What I wanted to do was throw myself on top of her and plow away, with no worries about defloration. She was ready, but unfortunately, my condoms were in my backpack, which was still in the living room where I had dropped it earlier. I jogged my naked butt down the hall, with my still-hard dick swinging between my legs like a pendulum. I tried not to think how silly I looked.

When I got back, Missy was lying in the middle of her bed, legs splayed wide apart, looking a bit frustrated. “Hurry up,” she said, still being bossy Missy.

Fortunately, this time I was able to roll the slimy latex sheath over my shaft smoothly. I climbed onto the bed and settled myself on my knees in the inviting valley between her thighs. I was just about to get on with it when I had an idea. I rolled over onto my back next to her.