Chapter 10

Back to Lane:

I just 'did' a virgin. First time I did that. Even when I was a horny teenaged boy (like there's any other kind), by the time I got a girl to drop 'er pants, she'd already taken care of that little obstruction. So here I was, almost thirty, and I just, as they say, deflowered a virgin.

'Deflowered'. By trying to sound poetic, it comes off sounding so freakin' pornish, and yeah, there was a time in my life where I paid a little too much attention to porn. That ain't this, by a long shot. I made love with my quirky, fun, intelligent, not your classical beauty, Lee. Or rather she made love to me. Or, hell, we made love WITH each other. Because SHE wanted to. And me too, if you want the truth. But I was afraid to push her. But there were we in bed and little pink tinges in the milky cum around my dick told me the fact of the matter.

I asked. "Lee, the truth. This was your first time."

Brown eyes. "Yes, my Lane."

"Your Lane. This is what you want? Me and you."

"Forever."

"Not just because you're caught up in something that sounds new and exciting that I'll have to kill Sherry for?"

"I thought we weren't talking about Sherry."

"Am I gonna spend the rest of my life dealing with a smartass?"

She kissed me. "You betcha."

I can live with that.

I jumped a little as her hand found my dick.

"Wanna look at it," she announced. "I sort of rushed through the first time."

"It's yours now," I said.

"It IS mine," she giggled. "My very own recreational weenie."

She explored it. Giggle. "Well, it WAS soft."

"I'm afraid that it won't stay that way when you're around, especially wearing what you have on right now."

She was naked, her skin smooth, youthful, with smallish tits with a bit of roundness but not a hint of sag. That crooked nose of hers gave her face a quirky look. She'd told me I was disturbed when I said it was cute.

"You're YOU. Not the same as everybody else."

"Studies say that symmetry is the key to beauty. People who are widely considered beautiful have symmetrical features."

"At one time, it was consensus that the Earth was at the center of the solar system."

"Not the same, Lane!"

"No? Then how come I find that face charmingly disarming?"

"Because you're warped."

"If such is the case, then you oughtta latch onto me," I said. Didn't know how prescient I was when I said it.

"Teeth," she said.

"Gotcha again. Kawaii."

"Oh, I'm a Japanese cartoon character?"

"Nope. Japanese word for 'cute'. Some Japanese girls actually get their teeth moved around to get the look you have right now."

"You're putting me on."

"Not in the least. Internet. Look it up. And do you seriously want to win the argument to prove that the guy who says you're cute doesn't know what he's talking about?"

She giggled. "I dunno."

"You don't know what goes on in my head, little girl," I said.

"I'm afraid to look, you know. No telling what sort of things reside in the dark corners of that thing."

This is the girl sitting beside me right now, toying with my dick.

"Dick," I said.

"Weenie," she countered. "Dick sounds like porn."

"Weenie sounds like two elementary schoolers playing doctor."

"Which would you rather?" she giggled. "I'll show you mine if I can see yours." And a cute little grin and a head tilt.

"You win."

"I know I win," Lee laughed. "This is my prize. And we're gonna have to change the sheets. Pretreat this one before you put it in the washer."

"Speaking of washer," I said, "your pants are ready for the dryer."

"Then let's strip this bed and get these in it. We'll put the other set on it."

Domestic. I KNOW she's domestic. She turned my Superfund site into a pretty neat place to live.

Of course I never saw her doing housework in the nude.

I got out of bed with her. She started dismantling the linens.

"You're not gonna at least put your blouse on?"

"Does me being naked bother you?"

"No."

"And if I DID put something on right now, sir, it would be that long-sleeved flannel shirt in your closet."

My mind rapidly put THAT image together. "Go for it."

Giggle. She went into the closet, grabbed the shirt off the hanger, and had it on, two buttons buttoned at the belly, by the time she turned around.

It was actually sexier than I imagined.

I pulled on my old pair of gym shorts. "Keeps us from frightening passers by."

"Or from incensing Sherry," she giggled.

"Okay, since you couldn't make an hour without mentioning the 's-word', you and her talked and she's pretty sure you were coming over to screw my brains out?"

"Look, love of my life, Sherry knows that you and me, we're exclusive and that we've talked about marriage and that we've been making out. I mean, I can't ask Gramma about sex. Just can't. And the girls at school? Oh, come on. Some of them think they can't get pregnant if they're on top when they're doin' it. So I talk with Sherry. She's like my second-best friend. And she has, "smirk," intimate knowledge of the object of my affection. She told me a lot of stuff that kept me from being a total shaking dunce."

"You used it on me..." I said.

"'Course I did. Who else?"

"Such as..."

"Finding out that there's no actual blowing in a blow job and that there are things that just work. That the girl's not supposed to just lay there. That a guy's balls are supersensitive, in both good and bad ways. That sort of thing. So I wasn't some panicky virgin." She smiled. "I think you oughtta send 'er flowers or something." There's that smirk again.

And the sheets are in the washer and her pants are in the dryer.

"I'm gonna get a few changes of clothes from Gramma's and leave 'em here." She looked at me. Raised an eyebrow.

"Makes sense," I said. "Of course if you'd've had a change of clothes, none of this would've happened." My turn for the eyebrow.

Her turn to smile and titter. "Oh, yes it would've. If I had to rip your clothes off with my teeth." Giggle. "I don't wear lipstick, so I couldn't leave lipstick on your drawers."

"There. See!" I said. "We're having us a moment and you toss a dead fish on the table."

She spun into my arms. I automatically held her against me, kissing her.

"You're incredibly sexy in that shirt."

"Really? This old thing?"

"Call it a weakness," I said.

"You know, Lane, I wanna find out ALL your weaknesses and use 'em all against you. Let's go make our bed."

Yeah. I noticed. 'Our bed'. I guess it is now. We sort of marked it. That's okay. I'm good with it. I followed her back to the bedroom. Yeah, I watched that neat rounded ass bouncing saucily, halfway covered by the tail of MY flannel shirt. I got a fetish a-building, let me tell you.

We made short work of making the bed, the completion of which was signaled by her unbuttoning that shirt and flopping backward onto the bed, extending her arms.

"C'mon, Lane. This is sort of our honeymoon."

If that's what she thinks it is, I'm good with that, too. Boy, either I'm seriously messed up or I'm in heaven. Maybe both.

"Drop the shorts, though."

"Yes, ma'am," I said. I joined her on the bed. "How sore are you? I mean..."

"A little. Less than some people said I would be. Definitely feel it, though." Smile. "These work." Kiss. "These work." She dragged my hand to a perky breast.

"You've come twice today. I've come twice," she said. "I read that men have a lower limit than women. Article said some women almost have NO limit. What does Lane say?" Giggle. "Maybe I should ask Lane's weenie." Her hand found the object of discussion. It was three-quarters hard already. Her touch was good for the other twenty-five percent.

"Hmmm. That's a piece of data. Now, Lane, explain to me the difference between being able to get an erection and being able to have an orgasm?"

"You know, princess," I said, "I've never known a time that the proper use of an erection didn't result in orgasm."

"I'd like a demonstration of that, you know." And a kiss that almost ignited the wallpaper. "I'm still slick from a while ago. But be gentle."

"You want back on top?"

"Which is more likely to produce that orgasm?"

"I dunno. That first one..."

"ONLY one that way," she corrected. "So far."

"Yeah. We wanna keep score. That one, with you on top, that was spectacular."

"Then lay back. Lee wants 'er weenie!"

I caught a little wince as she lined my dick up and began to press down, enveloping me, but she was determined. I found myself sweetly, tightly, wonderfully ensconced inside her. She looked down at me, now smiling. "Hurt a little," she said. "Doesn't now. Wonderfully filling." Giggled. "Tastes great, too. You know, they could use that in a commercial." She rocked, sliding me out and back in. "Let's see." Experimented with angles and movements. Found the same ones that worked so marvelously earlier.

"You're beautiful."

"To you."

"The rest of the world has no clue."

She put a move on me. I felt my breath catch. Yes, this is the ONE. Five minutes later, I'm roaring through number four with her.

"Can you sit up with me here and stay inside me?"

"I can try." I curled up to sit up.

"Oops! Guess not," she said.

"Try again BEFORE I come, baby."

"Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Kiss me. Hold me in your arms and kiss me."

"Love to, Dorable."

She giggled. "From the book. Loved that part of the story. We'll be like THAT."

"Yes, we will. Hopefully with not quite so much drama."

"But I can keep up my end of the bargain. You taught me how to shoot."

"Yeah, and you showed those bozos a thing or two."

Giggle. "Yeah."

We were at the range. I'm not too serious a shooter, but a rifle, a good rifle, sees two hundred yards as a decent range. I had Lee set up with a seventy year old rifle, popping away at a target two hundred yards away when a couple of young men in their twenties drove up and unloaded a lot of impressive looking equipment.

While Lee was finishing her ten-shot string, sitting cross-legged, her (my) rifle properly positioned, using a sling as REAL shooters do, the pair made comments about 'you can't shoot those long ranges (two hundred yards?!?) without a telescopic sight and you need a bench rest to shoot off of.

When Lee and another shooter finished, we cleared and tabled our weapons and walked out to the two hundred yard line to swap targets while the bozos set up targets at twenty-five and fifty yards.

I was slinging up for my ten rounds, overhearing, "now we'll show 'em how it's done."

They dumped thirty round magazines and got most of 'em on the paper at fifty yards. Lee was looking though my spotting scope, scoring my shots for me.

After I finished my string, she announced, "I think you beat me again," loudly. "Look at my target. She made a big show of waving the paper target at me. One of the bozos caught it.

"You shot that?" he asked. "At two hundred yards?"

"Yeah. I'm having an 'off' day. I let two of 'em get out of the black." And she smiled like an angel.

"And he beat you? With that old rifle? And no scope?"

She bounced her head. "He taught me how to shoot."

Okay, back to the middle of our bed. Fun. I'd managed to cross my legs while she had hers wrapped around me, sitting in my lap.

"This is GOOD," she said. "Really good. When you're hard again, I wanna try it like this."

"We can try everything you can think of," I said. "And if I ever start to do something you don't like, just say so."

Those brown eyes twinkled. "We have to try lots and lots of stuff to make sure we find out what we like."

I found out. I like Lee. The dryer buzzed.

Giggle. "I have pants once again. Now I'm safe!"