Chapter 20

Erica had never kissed Will. Not really. Not in the sense that most people think of a sexual kiss. Their lips had touched, but the tight skin that formed the left side of his lips wasn’t flexible enough to let him actually purse them. And, of course, she had never made out with a boy before. She had kissed her parents on the cheek, and had received similar kisses. She knew what her lips felt like when that had happened, so she just tried to kiss Bobby’s cheek ... on his lips.

So basically, the first real kiss that Erica Bradford ever got was one she couldn’t possibly have been prepared for. Especially since she got it from Bobby Dalton.

He had to let go of her breasts. That was because when her knees gave out, they slammed into his, and he had to lift her with his hands under her armpits just to keep her from folding to the floor.

And to keep his lips in contact with hers ... of course.

As her passions had flared (and were in the process of flaring again), his also flared. He knew he hadn’t let her make this decision, but what was done was done ... except that it wasn’t done yet. He kept his lips pressed to hers, which were slack, so he gave in to his passions and licked the inside of her lips.

She was short, but she weighed more than she appeared to. Standing like this wasn’t going to work. He broke the kiss just as her head lolled back, her neck muscles going slack. Her eyes were closed and she almost looked like she was unconscious. He felt her knees exert some force when she lightened in his hands, and he simply bent to scoop his left arm behind her knees while sliding his right arm behind her back. Her neck started working again as he lifted her and stepped toward the couch.

When he sat down with her, she was more or less lying across his lap with her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were open now, looking at his face. Her eyes were clear and alert. He saw permission there.

So he kissed her again.

In the next fifteen minutes, Erica Bradford tried her best to make up for every make-out session she had never had as a teenager. Kissing Bobby like this was nothing like she had imagined. She had no basis for comparison, but it was like being able to eat cake and ice cream and never get full. All of her attention was centered on her lips, because his hands just held her against him. The warmth of his body where she was pressed to him was comfortable. Her first blasts of passion gave way to something more sedate, as she explored this new thing that was so delightful. He had at least ten different ways of kissing her and all of them made her feel like she was going to melt.

Eventually he let her lie back. Her back was on his lap and her head was on the armrest of the couch. She felt like her breasts were pushed out, because the transition from his lap to the couch, where her bottom lay, felt huge. She watched his eyes move from her face to her chest and her nipples started wanting to be squeezed again.

Men had looked at her breasts for years and she hadn’t liked it. Then Will had looked at them and she had felt something completely different. Now another man was looking at them. For only the second time in her life, Erica wanted a man to actually see them.

Her hands came to the buttons of her blouse. Her fingers moved languidly, in no hurry, and the top button popped open. Her fingers moved to the next ... and the next. When all of them were unbuttoned, she could still feel the cloth covering most of her. The coolness of the air on her skin suggested it was open five or six inches. His left arm was under her, in the gap between the arm of the couch and the base of her neck. His right hand came to flick the left half of her blouse back.

His left arm pulled her up for another kiss and his right hand slid under the cloth of the blouse to stroke her back. He let her back down after what seemed like five minutes.

She used front-catch bras, because her breasts were so large that it was too hard to pull straps together behind her back. His fingers went to the catch and drifted there, almost as if they were exploring. She felt a finger stroke the exposed skin of her cleavage, above the catch. His fingers drifted up the swell of her left breast to slide back and forth across the tip. She sucked in a breath and her back arched.

He let his fingers wander lightly all over both breasts, barely touching her until she couldn’t take it any longer. Her own fingers came to the catch and, with an expert flip, she opened it. She let go and the cups sprang apart. She heard the right one slap against his chest.

She closed her eyes ... waiting ... only to open them fifteen seconds later as she lifted her head. He was just looking at them. His eyes came up and centered on her own.

“I’d like very much to touch them,” he said softly.

She barked once or twice in almost hysterical laughs that left her panting. He wanted permission! She didn’t trust her voice, so she reached for one of his hands and dragged it to her breast.

“Uhhhhhh,” she groaned as he at last cupped her warm flesh with a hand that felt hot somehow. He squeezed and she arched even more, as she felt his fingers approach the nipple. She closed her eyes in anticipation.

He pinched it lightly.

She felt sudden wetness flood her panties and groaned again.

“Harder!” she gasped, between clenched teeth.

Her eyes were still closed, so she didn’t see him lean forward. She felt it though, and her eyes opened, as her head came up just in time to see his lips close around her left nipple. He sucked hard and bit with his teeth.

Will had also never sucked at her nipples, again, because his lips wouldn’t work that way anymore. He couldn’t use a straw either, unless he closed only the softer right side of his lips around it. When she squeezed her nipples, or when Will did, the pressure was consistent all over the sensitive bud. That effect was achieved partway by the suction Bobby applied. His teeth magnified it tenfold.

Erica’s body jerked, as if she were having a seizure, and a tortured banshee wail was torn from her throat as her passion finally found an outlet. All that emotion burst from the tip of her breast like a spray of the milk that breast would someday produce.

An orgasm is, in many ways, a violent event. It can wrack the body as if it is being whipped and its effects on muscles can cause cramps. Heart rate skyrockets and the lungs work overtime to compensate for the need for more oxygen. Erica had had orgasms before, and the ones that involved her nipples were always the most violent. But all those paled by comparison to the one that made her strain to bend her body in half, backwards, in an attempt to force her breast up against the teeth that were destroying her.

She eventually fell back, limp, all her energy expended. Little zings of ecstasy were still radiating from her nipple and she opened her eyes, lifting her head again, to see him gently sucking and licking at what he had so recently bitten. He stopped to look up at her face and smiled.

Then he moved his mouth to the other one and it started all over again.

Christy dragged his pants down, revealing shorts that were tented enough that she felt almost guilty at the relief she also felt. She stopped, to take in the leg she had never seen. It looked so ... incomplete. The scarring there was only on the outside of the leg, but it was thick. She touched it and a sound of sorrow escaped her throat.

“The pain!” she moaned.

“I’m not in pain right now,” he panted.

That reminded her that she wasn’t the only person in the room who was seeking something pleasurable right now. She stood and slowly removed her dress. His eyes gave her the encouragement she sought and she reached behind her to release her bra. She tossed it, and posed for him. Her nipples stiffened at the look in his gaze. She bent over to push her panties down. She already knew she was beautiful, in his eyes, so her attention returned to the part of him she hadn’t seen yet.

He tried to help her, but that only rolled him to one side. She pulled hard, and his shorts shot downward, bending his prick so that it flopped back and slapped his stomach when the cloth cleared it.

“Oh my,” she sighed, stopping for a few seconds. It was tempting, when his shorts came past the stump of his left leg to just leave them on his right one, but she wanted him entirely naked, so she finished.

Dim memories of her husband’s penis surfaced. She’d gotten so used to seeing Bobby’s uncut one that this one looked wrong somehow. With a twist inside her, she acknowledged that there were other parts of Will that looked wrong too, so it didn’t matter.

She couldn’t resist tasting him. Moisture flooded her pussy as she heard his groans of pleasure. Then, still sucking, she pulled her mouth off of him, to hear his groan convey something less than pleasure.

“Are you happy yet?” she asked, teasing.

“I’m happy!” he gasped. “Please don’t stop!” he begged.

“But I want to do something else,” she pouted.

In a flash she was up and over him, standing above him, looking down. She was already ready. as she slowly squatted, she reached with two fingers to spread her labia.

With the other hand, she reached for the thing she needed inside her.

Will wasn’t the only Bradford in town who was almost insanely happy.

While still in the throes of the remnants of her fourth orgasm (two per nipple), Erica had felt herself lifted again and laid down on the couch. She’d worn a skirt to the final performance, and the side closure was no barrier to Bobby’s skilled fingers. She was light-headed enough that she didn’t realize what was happening until the skirt was already off and her panties were slipping past her toes. Then she felt one leg being raised and felt the fabric of the couch press into her calf. She realized her legs were spread and drew breath to object when something warm and soft, but hard at the same time, pressed into her sex. She raised her head to see Bobby’s black hair where her own blond hair should be.

He sucked in her clit at that second and the world went crazy again for Erica.

Erica felt hoarse. She was hoarse. What he had done between her legs had kept her making gasping almost-screams. She was still gasping. After three more orgasms that threatened to make her muscles tear through her skin, she was sure she’d never catch her breath again. She lay limply, wide open, but no longer caring. He had seen every part of her ... had sucked every part of her ... and it was no longer important that she was naked. She opened her eyes to see him taking his shirt off. Her eyes drank in that chest again and she made a little noise in her throat. When he undid his slacks, and pushed them down, though, it penetrated her brain what was going to happen next.

“Bobby!” she gasped.

He looked at her.

“I’m ... a virgin,” she panted.

He stopped, with his slacks at his knees, as if he’d been frozen.

“But what about Will?”

Her hand went unconsciously to her sex and covered it.

“We’ve ... never ... done that,” she puffed.

He looked at her and his eyes seemed to darken and glitter.

“What have you done?” he asked.

An hour earlier, had he asked that question, he would have gotten a completely different response, but the relationship between Erica Bradford and Bobby Dalton had grown by leaps and bounds.

“I’ll ... show you.” Her lungs still heaved.

Erica’s mind was still whirling. So much had happened, that when she thought about showing Bobby what she did for Will, she just took him to the place where she had always done it. She stood by the bed and waited, while he finished taking his slacks off, which he’d pulled back up after learning she was a virgin. He stood and looked at her. She pointed at the bed.

Bobby felt foolish. Of course Will would be lying down. He didn’t know whether to take his briefs off or not. He was rock hard inside them, and decided that Will just had to be naked when they did whatever it was they did. He removed them quickly and lay on the bed.

Erica stared at what he had revealed. It didn’t look anything like Will’s. Will’s was red, almost purple in some places, and bumpy. This one was bone colored and smooth. She stepped forward, fascinated by the differences. The sack that hung under Will’s was red too. This one was brown, with much darker hairs around it.

She reached for the penis and marveled at the satiny feel of it. Will’s was slick and hard similar to but also different than his scars. It didn’t feel like this one unless it was soft. As she gripped it, her hand moved downward and, like a flower blooming, something came out of the end of it. She blinked and realized she had moved the skin off of something, rather than something bursting forth. It felt nothing like Will’s either.

The only other frame of reference she had was the movie that had so troubled her. This one didn’t look like those either. She looked up at Bobby’s face. He seemed to be watching her with interest.

“This doesn’t look right,” she said, pulling the skin back off the tip.

“I still have my foreskin,” he said.

She hadn’t paid any attention to penises in health class. She had even avoided the subject. She must have looked lost, because he went on.

“They cut that extra skin off of some boys at birth.”

She shuddered. Somebody had done that to her little brother? Her mind flashed to female genital mutilation, something she was familiar with as a feminist. This cutting of a boy’s penis seemed similar and she was incensed.

“That’s horrible!“ she moaned.

“I don’t think guys remember the pain,” he said.

“It’s still horrible,” she said. “It’s barbaric!”