Jennifer's story
Mark and I had been wrapped up in a big blanket, standing in his living room, after having been caught out in the rain, kissing and cuddling to get warm, when I just had to have him. I took his hand and told him, "I know an even better way to get warm," and led him into his, into
our,
tiny bedroom. Mark's a lot bigger than me, but he didn't resist at all when I turned him around and just threw him down on the bed. I knew that he loved it when I got on top -- that was the first way we made love -- and I made a motion to do that again, when a naughty, naughty thought came into my mind. Mark had gone down on me for the first time last night, and Monica had told me how a girl does that to a guy in return. I had sort of been thinking that I'd try that for a birthday present for Mark tomorrow, but he was right in position for me to try it now. I had been worried that when the time to try it tomorrow would come, I might not be able to do it, but, all of a sudden, I not only knew that I could do it, but I wanted to try it. I took Mark's manhood in hand, and bent down over him. Monica had said to start out slow, to just lick him at first, to see if I could handle this, and that's what I tried. I got an, "Oh, my God,
Jen!
" for my first efforts, and I knew Mark was loving this.
I knew that I could at least lick Mark's manhood; that didn't sound too scary. Monica had told me that the whole idea sounds gross, until you actually try it, and then you find out that it isn't, that it can actually be a lot of fun. I knew, now, just how amazing it was when Mark went down on me, and I knew that was the first time he'd done that to a girl, so I thought that I'd at least have to try it. Oh, gosh, there was just so much marvelous about sex, things I didn't know the first thing about just eight days ago, that seemed so scary to think about but so wonderful once I actually tried them, and that gave me the nerve and determination to try new things.
But licking it, on the outside, was one thing. I knew that I could do that, but Monica had told me that the next step was to take his manhood -- she called it his cock -- into my mouth. That was a weird thought, that was a scary thought, but licking didn't taste bad, and I knew Mark would never hurt me, so I just went ahead and did it.
Oh, my God, Mark's reaction was awesome, He was grabbing the sheets with his hands, clenching them and pulling on them hard, and I could tell that he was loving this. As for me, why this wasn't bad at all, and it was actually kind of fun. Monica had told me that guys love it the more of them you can actually take in your mouth, and I kind of tried, but couldn't get more than half of Mark in me before it started to get too far back in my mouth, and I had to pull it back a bit. I gagged a bit, and for a second thought I might throw up, but I didn't, and I tried to do my best to make Mark feel great.
At first, Mark was holding his body rigid, like he does when he's about to climax, and I thought that he would, right away. Monica told me about that, as well, about what it's like when a guy has his orgasm in your mouth. Oh, man, I wasn't sure that I was ready for
that
yet, but then Mark shifted his position a bit, relaxing the tension on his legs, and I knew that he was trying to hold off. Suddenly, I just felt my love for Mark wash over me; as much as he was enjoying this, he was trying to be considerate of me, to not make things difficult for me. Oh, my God, he loved me, her really loved me!
I was so torn! I wanted to keep doing this to Mark, and I wanted to make love to Mark at the same time. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I moved up and took him inside me. The look on Mark's face was incredible, and I know that I had to be smiling from ear to ear. Mark was so wonderful, and I was just in heaven with him inside me. "Make love to me, Mark," was all that I could say.
And he did, oh, my God, he did. It was like the very first time we had ever made love, the way it felt in my body, and the way it felt in my mind. I remembered how wonderful it had been, the first time, when I was going to tell Mark that I loved him, and it came out the same way, "Make love to me, Mark." All of a sudden, quickly, my climax washed over me, making me tremble from head to toe, and as soon as that started to subside, it hit me again, and again. I lost track of time, I lost track of everything, and then suddenly, Mark stiffened up and roared out something, as his own orgasm hit him.
I'm not even sure what happened. At first I was laying down on top of him, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, and then I was on my side, beside him, with Mark looking into my eyes. We'd left the kind of pathetic wall sconce light on, so I could see him, and Mark has the deepest, darkest brown eyes I've ever seen, that I could ever imagine. I could get lost, just looking into his eyes.
And Mark was looking into my eyes as well. My eyes are a pale blue, and I know that Mark likes them, but he wasn't just looking into my eyes; he was looking into my soul. I could feel it, I could feel him, trying to get closer and closer to my heart. He whispered to me, so softly I could barely hear him, "I love you, Jennifer."
Mark's story
I awoke just a few minutes earlier than usual, to Jennifer playing with my chest hair. Her head was on my shoulder, and her fingertips touching me ever so slightly, curling and lightly pulling on my hair. "Happy birthday," she said softly, when she realized that I was awake.
I was remembering last night, almost like a dream, as wonderful a night as I had ever known. It had been like our first night together, but without the uncertainty and without the fear. I was going to marry this wonderful woman, and I kept wondering: was every morning waking up with Jen going to be like this?
I couldn't help but think of my parents' marriage, and Jennifer's parents. My father had taken off when I was just two years old, and any shows of affection my parents ever had for each other were before anything I could remember. Had my mom and dad waken up feeling like this together? I have no idea, and I'll never know. Mom never speaks about my father, and I have no way of knowing what he was like. My sisters are older than me, and they remember him a little bit, but that's it. They've never said that they remember any fights or anything, just that, one day, he was gone.
But the Matthews? I saw them holding hands, I could see the love that they have for each other, even after twenty-six years of marriage, and that gives me hope. Jen said that she heard them making love, last Friday, after meeting me that afternoon, and that was a wonderful sign, a sign that two people can stay together and can make a marriage last and can still love each other after so many years. Heck, the Matthews were still in love, and they had been married for longer than I've been alive.
But what the Hell do I know about love? At this time, fifteen days ago, I was just like any other freshman at UK. I was working on my classes, and trying to think about how to meet girls, and wanting desperately to get laid. The girls I dreamed about? Why, they were the sorority girls, the ones with the strawberry blonde hair -- whether real or Clairol -- the golden tans, the perfect skin and awesome figures under not a whole lot of clothes, the ones who wore necklaces and earrings and short skirts and flirted effortlessly, leaving guys like me in their wakes as they walked through campus. I was going to get my degree in chemistry, then maybe a masters, and some fabulous job with a major industrial firm, and move up the ladder with a real, living Barbie doll on my arm. The sorority girl I'd marry, after I was graduated, of course, was going to be some kind of sex fiend, a girl who just knew everything but still only from listening to her sisters -- the other sorority sisters I had already screwed, one after another -- an ornament of a wife who would be totally devoted to me. I had no father growing up, I had no idea what a husband and wife were supposed to be together, and all that I had was the ideal, gleaned from other guys and caged copies of
Playboy,
ideas of how a Real Man was supposed to live his life.
And then I ran into Jennifer, still dressed in her old, long skirt, still covered up, still with no hint of sexiness about her, losing an armload of books going up the awkward steps toward the Classroom Building. What was it about Jen that changed everything, from that very first moment? She was a bit flustered, with losing the books, and still shy, even though she had known me for years. When I had offered to walk her the rest of the way to class, to lighten her burden, she told me at first that I didn't need to do that, she didn't want to be a bother. I got a slight look of surprise from her when I called her Jenny, which apparently no one else ever did, and maybe a smile? If she did smile, it was just ever so slightly, so shyly, but somehow, I was hooked.
The sorority girl image I had of my future girlfriends (plural) and eventual wife? That was gone, gone forever. The hot, hot life I'd have as a college student, running through a steady stream of willing and wanton girlfriends? Well, I guess that I had the girlfriend now, one who loved me as much as I loved her, and yeah, we were lovers, but it was just nothing like I ever dreamed it would be like; my fantasies pale in comparison, were just total trash, compared to the sweet, shy, wonderful woman laying here, in my arms.
Oh, well, enough of that; I'm about to burst, and I've got to take a leak! I pulled myself out of bed, to a bit of a pouting look from Jen -- and I'd never seen that before from her -- and did what I had to do. I walked back into the bedroom, still brushing my teeth, and said, "Better take care of your morning business, 'cause we've got a tub full of wet clothes from last night."
"Yeah, and kind of a wet pillow here, too. My hair was still pretty wet when we went to bed."
This was one heck of a great start to my nineteenth birthday -- Jen is older than me by a few months -- as I picked the wet mess out of the tub, and started hand-washing our clothes in the kitchen sink, while Jen took her bath. Her hair had been a tangled, wet mess last night, after we had walked home in the pouring rain, and it just made sense for her to take the first bath anyway. I washed everything, and wrung it out, waiting to hang it up over the bathtub again after I'd had my own bath.
