Chapter 7: Melissa In The Morning

I’m not sure what time I woke; I couldn’t see a clock from where I was, but it was morning. I watched her drowse for awhile. She looked like a sleeping Madonna, utterly relaxed and peaceful. And sexy. I snuggled closer to her just to smell her and feel her warmth.

She started moving around, waking slowly. She rubbed her eyes and leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table -- oh, that’s where it was -- and turned over to face me. She smiled and looked at me.

“This is nice, waking up next to someone. Are you hungry?”

“I think so,” I said, “but I’d really love coffee if you have it. What time is it?”

“About eight. We’ve got a few hours, I think. My parents shouldn’t be home till late afternoon but I wouldn’t want to cut it too close. I’ll take a quick shower and then find something for breakfast, okay?”

“Better than okay.” She hopped out of bed -- what a fine ass -- and picked up her robe from the floor and headed off to the shower.

I lay back on the pillow and put my arms behind my head, thinking that I may have had the finest few hours of anyone in Cleveland. I challenged anyone else to top it. I spent a very pleasant few minutes reviewing all the things we had done to each other, and each one seemed to be better then the last. The remainder of my teenage years were going to be a serious letdown because I didn’t think anything could live up to the last day.

I heard the shower stop and the hair dryer start up while I ruminated some more. Then I heard the door open and she called, “It’s yours if you want it. Oh, there’s a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.”

I thought a shower was in order. I was an ardent believer in the old adage, “Clean mind, clean body: Take your pick.” So I went off to clean my body. And my teeth.

I found the towel I had used yesterday and dried off. I pulled on pants and a shirt, and reminded myself to grab my change of clothes from the pizza box, which should still be in the kitchen.

I wandered downstairs following the smell of coffee and the sizzle of something good. Melissa was at the stove making an omelet that seemed to have mushrooms and peppers and cheese, while toast was in the toaster.”

“You’re not sensitive to any of these things, are you? I forgot to ask.”

“No, they smell fantastic. You cook, too, in addition to being a world-famous dancer and sexual athlete?”

She threw a leftover mushroom at me. “Wait until you taste it before you compliment my cooking. There’s coffee on the counter, mugs in the cupboard.”

It really did smell great, and now my stomach was growling noticeably. I got coffee in me and the world appeared much brighter. Watching Melissa at the stove also helped.

She scooped everything onto two plates and sat down next to me. Again the hair at the nape of her neck was slightly damp, which I found very erotic.

My food was half gone before I raised my head to take a sip of coffee. “I really hadn’t realized how hungry I was. This is fabulous.”

“My mother’s a good cook, so I picked things up from watching her, and sometimes I don’t want what everyone else is eating so I make for myself. I don’t eat a lot of meat, so I’ll usually find something else if they’re having that.”

We finished and she stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks. This was especially fascinating because her robe was pulling open and I got a quick boob flash. All my breakfasts should start this way. She settled down in her chair, getting comfortable, then reached out and took my hand in both of hers.

“I was thinking while I was in the shower how relaxed I was, which I’m not normally when I get up, and I wondered why. Then I remembered the forty orgasms and that explained everything.”

“Forty? You mean you went on without me after I fell asleep? That’s not fair. I feel cheated”

“I’m exaggerating, of course. It just felt like forty. Carter, my body is still buzzing.”

She took a deep breath. “I knew I wanted to get past this virgin stuff, but I was so ready to be disappointed. Most of the girls who talk about their first time always sound like it’s a letdown, that it never lived up to its hype. But everything so far has been either good or great. Maybe they’re hanging out with the wrong guys.”

Now I was a little embarrassed, feeling that I had led her down a path where she would always be slightly disappointed by sex with other people. I hoped that wouldn’t be the case.

I said, “Melissa, maybe that’s true because I like you so much and am so, so grateful that you chose me for your first. The past few hours have been beyond anything I could have imagined. I will never forget this.”

“Me neither. I’m not ready to tell my friends because not one of them can keep a secret if their life depended on it, but even if I did they wouldn’t believe me. They’d think I was making it up to cover up a disappointing experience. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that so you’d know what it meant to me.”

“Thank you. Is there anything you felt you wanted to do before we have to split up? Perhaps a secret fetish involving vegetable oil and velvet ropes? No?”

“Perhaps too early in the relationship, Carter. We should save some of the mystery for another time. I don’t know. Everything you do to me feels wonderful. I’m almost sorry to have decided on the ‘no fucking’ rule, but I really can’t, not until I have some reliable birth control and I don’t trust condoms alone.”

“I had already accepted that, and I understand why, too.”

She was quiet for a long while, and I finished my coffee. She cleared her throat.

She wouldn’t meet my eye, but she said, “So that other thing on the list that I wasn’t sure about, y’know, the ... the anal thing? I’m a little scared of it, but I’d be willing to try if you promise me you’ll stop if I ask.”

I was, for once, speechless, no snappy rejoinder, no quip. I was sure she had ruled that out. She was proving to be much more adventurous than she appeared at first glance. Just goes to prove that old tell-a-book-by-its-cover saying.

“I have never done that, either and would love to try, but to be honest I’m told this is better done with some kind of special lube, other than normal petroleum jelly, and I would never want to hurt you.”

“Oh,” she said, disappointed. She sat staring at the wall for a minute, then sat up and said, “Wait a minute.” She jumped up and ran upstairs. I could hear her rummaging around up there somewhere. I heard a quick “Hah!” followed by her feet slapping on the stairs again. She trotted triumphantly into the kitchen. “What about this?”

She handed me a plastic bottle labeled Astroglide. A “personal” lubricant. Promising. Very promising. I opened it and squeezed a drop onto the pad of my thumb, then ran my index finger over it. It really was quite slick. I held it out to her and said, “Hold out your thumb.” I placed a drop there and she did the same thing. “It’s really slippery,” she said.

“I recognize the brand name, so it really is for personal use, and not so much for loosening recalcitrant nuts and bolts.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” she said.

“Should I ask...?”

“It was in the closet drawer we use for old first-aid supplies and medications. I remembered seeing it. It’s probably better if we don’t speculate about its purchase and use.”

“You are wise beyond your years, grasshopper. I think this will work. It seems almost full.”

She got up and started clearing the table. I hoped she was not having second thoughts, but with everything in the sink she stood in front of me expectantly. I looked up. “You ready?” she asked.

I was so ready. I stood up and followed her, remembering to grab my things from the pizza box on the counter. Once again I trailed her up the stairs, watching her ass twitch back and forth under the robe and remembering how it had felt last night.

In the bedroom she hesitated at the bed. Then she turned and smiled. I grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, with a little tongue, too. I stepped back and slipped out of my shirt and pants. I thought about the socks and took them off, too. Man, it took almost nothing to get my dick standing up. I wondered how teenage boys ever got anything done with their erect dicks always in the way.

I reached out and tugged at the belt of her robe, and it fell open. She shrugged her shoulders and it fell to the floor. “Melissa, you get sexier every time I see you.” I pulled her close to me and wrapped my arms around her. Our tongues were entangled, and I was squeezing her butt while sending some pleasure stimuli. She was starting to squirm, just a little, and grabbed my dick with her hand and stroked it gently.

I was pretty sure I was going to be good for nothing after I had fucked her butt, if we ever got that far, so I decided that I would try for one more orgasm before we started.

“Lie on your back on the bed,” I said, “and let your butt come to the edge. Okay, a little closer. There. Now raise your legs and rest them on my shoulders. Spread the knees apart. Perfect.”

And it was perfect. Her pussy was right in front of me, and her knees spread wide enough that I could get in close. Her pussy still smelled of soap from the shower. It was lovely. I rested my index and middle fingers on either side of her clit and pinched like a scissor.

She drew in her breath and sighed, so I kept doing that and every few pinches my tongue would dart in and lick, sometimes hitting her clit, sometimes just below it. It had an immediate effect, aided and abetted by the subtle crashing wave imagery that I was sending.

I don’t know how long I was doing that because I really was enjoying playing with her pussy, but the hands that grabbed the back of my head told me that she was getting close. My tongue started working on her clit side to side, up and down, around in circles.

My fingers slipped down to the opening of her vagina. I wasn’t sure she was going to like this or not, but I was in an experimental mood.

If I recalled the distances correctly from my examination last night, it should be about ... here. My little finger found her asshole and probed gently while the first two fingers positioned themselves at her pussy, and I pushed.

My little finger slipped into her ass and the first two into her pussy. Her body stiffened and I gave her a pleasure rush. Her body stayed rigid and she moaned, “Fuuuuckkk.” I started sliding my fingers in and out while my tongue tortured her clit.

Her hands were pulling me in hard. She was tugging at my hair and it hurt a little. I slipped the little finger out of her ass, and the first two went deep into her pussy and searched for her G-spot.

Apparently I found it, as her head came up and her mouth opened, but nothing came out. I rubbed my fingers back and forth fast inside her, rubbing her G-spot, and she looked at me in desperation, no longer in control. I gave her a mental shove down the slope and she let out a keening wail as she came.

Not only did she cum, but she squirted, shooting a stream that hit me and the floor. I continued moving my fingers but stopped licking her clit, and she continued thrashing and gasping. Her body tensed, then relaxed. She reached down and grabbed my hand to make it stop. She kept a tight grip on my hand, while saying softly, “Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh”

It took a few moments for her to recover. Her voice was slightly raspy. “What was that? I thought you were going to do, well, anal.”

“I loved going down on you yesterday and I thought I’d do it again. That was okay, wasn’t it?”

“Better than okay. I was just cumming and cumming, and again with the fingers driving me over the edge. And did I imagine that? Did I pee on you? Tell me I didn’t. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You didn’t pee. You squirted. It’s not pee, it’s some other liquid, like lubricant your body produces, I dunno. But not pee. Some women squirt when their G-spot gets stimulated.”

“Yeah, well, you must’ve stimulated me like crazy ‘cause I had no control over my body, my body was controlling me. Am I weird for cumming so easily.”

“Oh, you are so not weird. That is so hot, watching you cum like that. I wouldn’t do this, but some part of me wishes I had a video camera so I could watch you cum over and over. It’s really beautiful, almost religious.”

“No videos. No stills. No sketches or paintings. No word pictures. No audio recordings. I will personally eviscerate you with a soup spoon if you do. But thank you. And grab that towel over there and wipe yourself off. Do you need to shower?”