** Author's note. This is part of a series, and I recommend you read the previous parts first. Also, I know some of this may not seem like romance, but it is also a coming of age story, with some experimentation and personal exploration. The love between Moira and Craig is the central focus of the story, but part of that story involves both of them learning about themselves. Please excuse any editing issues. I wanted to get this posted, and my editor has disappeared. I hope you enjoy, and all comments are welcome.
The next few weeks were drenched with sex as Moira discovered herself, and I rediscovered my own appetites as well. I was thrilled to find that her exuberance, and her volume, were directly proportional to how comfortable we were with each other.
I started college in 1995, near the beginning of the internet boom, but prior to any kind of mass proliferation of broad-band access, so figuring out low-bandwidth methods to masturbate using the internet became an art. Pictures were fine, but they're sterile and dead. A thirty second video might take an hour to download, and, at eighteen, I could rub out two or three in that amount of time. Not to mention that most free porn videos back then looked as much like flesh-toned ant raves as anything else, thanks to massive file compression. Then, one day on a small, private FTP site, I found some audio files cataloged as the apparent host pleasuring herself. They were small enough to be practical downloads, and knowing (or being able to pretend at least) that they were the sounds of a real, non-professional woman enjoying herself was, and still is, a huge turn on. Of course, it didn't hurt that the files were all named "Angel".
Moira put her to shame. She loved to tell me what she wanted, and how much she enjoyed getting it. I loved teasing her. Hearing her beg, and then scream my name became my drug of choice.
She gave as good as she got. One evening, sitting in my lap, impaled on my cock, she wrapped her arms and legs around me as firmly as she could, holding me tightly in place inside her. She stroked me with her vaginal muscles, drawing me maddeningly close to a climax I couldn't reach. She taunted me as I convulsed with sensation, whispering in my ear that she couldn't wait for me to fuck her, while preventing it at the same time. I bruised her ass with my desperately clutching fingers, searching for any leverage that would let me push us over the edge. Eventually, she left me no choice. I took her to bed, still a prisoner inside her, and taught her the error of her ways. She gasped in surprised as I pried her arms from my neck far easier than she thought I could. Pinning her down with one hand, I pinched, pulled, licked and sucked on her nipples, neck, and any other skin I could reach until her need to come overrode her desire to tease me. She loosed her hold on my waist, and I fucked her mercilessly. Thirty seconds later we were competing for the loudest scream.
A few days after that torturously enjoyable session, something REALLY interesting happened. Moira had been busy studying for mid-terms for several days, and we had barely spoken during that time. At around 9PM, with Frost passed out in my lap as we watched Thursday night college football, my phone rang. The crashing guitar chords of Stone Temple Pilot's "Still Remains" told me it was Moira without even looking at the screen.
"Hey sweet thing."
"Hi. I need to talk. Can I come over?"
"Of course. Are you OK?"
"No. I mean, I am, but not really. I just ... I'll be there in a few minutes."
"OK. I'll see you then."
Now I was worried. My head spun with disastrous thoughts. I tried to reason my way past them, mostly by clutching at semantic straws. She said "I" need to talk, not "we". Then again, that might just mean she didn't intend to let me talk. She was just going to say what she needed to say, and then walk away.
At least she was in a hurry, and I didn't have much time to talk myself into a panic. When I opened the door to her knock, her face was awash with conflict, and the darkness loomed over me. I took her hand and pulled her into my arms. She came willingly, and shuddered with a deep breath. I held her for a moment, and then led her to the couch and sat with her.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Not wrong, really. I'm just a little freaked out."
"Why? Did something happen?"
"No, but I wanted it to." I wrestled with my own terror, trying to keep my voice level.
"What? Tell me." She opened her mouth, and her lips worked silently, trying to find the words.
"Shelly came walking through the apartment naked and I wanted to jump her," she blurted out in a rush.
I smiled and chuckled. Moira's face fell.
"Oh baby, no, I'm sorry," I apologized. "I'm not making light of this. I'm just relieved. I was afraid you were coming over here to break up with me."
"I was afraid you would do the same thing. That you'd accuse me of cheating on you, or think I was really a lesbian deep down, and you'd end it," she replied.
I pulled her against me. "Moira, sweetie, you didn't DO anything, and I would never make a judgment like that. If that is the case, and I really don't think it is, only you can know that for sure. I know how close you and Shelly are, and the history you have. We haven't seen each other for a few days. You've probably been pretty stressed, and, well, the last few weeks have been pretty wild. They do say that the more sex you're getting, the more you want, and you're just now figuring out what makes you tick in bed. I'm really not surprised that seeing her naked tickled a nerve. Does what you felt bother you?"
"It just ... shocked me. It was so strong, and it came out of nowhere!" She clutched me tighter.
"I get that. I think you'll remember a certain morning when you crushed any semblance I had of will power." Moira lifted her head, and a small smile spread across her face.
"Yeah, I remember," the smile crumbled, "but, this is different. I'm not supposed to feel that way about someone else, especially not another woman!"
"Pshh. 'Supposed to' is a crock. You feel what you feel when you feel it. I am glad that you didn't do anything without talking to me, but if you need to act on something like that, it doesn't bother me. I know you're not going to run off with Shelly and leave me, and, like I said, I know you two have history. I would much rather you get to know yourself than resent me for not allowing it."
Confusion still reigned on her face, and she eyed me disbelievingly. "Most guys would say, 'As long as I can watch.' after a statement like that."
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Moira. Most guys might say something like that, but the reason they say isn't entirely because they want to see the show. It's also because they're paranoid, or they're watching for signs of their own inadequacy. I trust you. I trust that you would tell me if it was something more than a break from the usual. I love you, and I know you love me."
I paused, studying her face. So far, it didn't appear that what I was saying was making much of an impact. "I kinda get the feeling this is bothering you more because you STILL want to do it, rather than because you wanted to. Am I right?" Moira nodded almost imperceptibly. "Moira, it's OK. Really." I caressed her cheek. "Like I said, I trust you. I know you're learning new things about your own desires, and I would never try to curb that experimentation, unless I thought it was genuinely dangerous. I want you to be you." I paused and took a deep breath. "It took me a long time to learn that denying who you are to yourself leads to misery. If you think you can learn anything from me, learn that, please."
Moira's face was a full-on riot of conflicting emotions, with confusion and relief leading their respective factions. I held her against me and kissed the top of her head. We sat quietly for ten minutes or so, before Frost interjected himself by trying to squeeze between us. Moira let out a tear-choked chuckle as he shoved his face under her hand, rumbling like an early-stage avalanche. She stroked his head with her thumb, and his pink, motorized nose went skyward.
After a few minutes of furry distraction, Moira was calmer. "I'm still a little freaked out," she said.
"That's understandable. Let's look at it this way. She was your first real sexual partner, right?"
Moira was contemplative for a moment. "Yeah."
"It happened more than once, and it was never something you regretted, right?"
"No, never."
"So, why it is that once you find something new, you have to immediately throw out the old?"
Moira drew in a breath and locked her eyes on me. She said, "Because...," aggressively, and then deflated, unable to complete her thought. "I don't know," she admitted.
"As far as I'm concerned, it shouldn't. Your experiences with Shelly are just as much a part of you as the time we've spent together. Maybe you just ... like vanilla and chocolate?" I raised an eyebrow suggestively.
