M Loses Control

First times can be fun. In the dark fumbling with someone before you know much about who is fumbling with you. Potential is limitless in that moment. In those first moments only knowing them through experience of physical intimacy, but not real intimacy.

Before my freshman year in college we brought home a new set of strays from a summer spent in San Marcos. My Mom collected people or strays as I called them. I can't pull this stray's name out of the recesses of my mind. She was a little different than the normal stray, young, hurt behind all that bravado. The hurt part was normal for the strays but the young was different. She was a little older than me. Michele, Laurie, something like that. She wasn't with us long, the whys and wheres are fuzzy to me now.

In her sphere, she brought along a young man, maybe a cousin. Dark eyes, dark hair, and skinny as young men tend to be. For some reason he was staying with us also and he had decided he wanted me. Another boy with his needs and wants. He was nice, I didn't need or deserve nice. He tried to know me and I wanted nothing to do with him. Each of his efforts to interact, I met with anger, ugliness.

Sherice, yes that was the stray's name. Accosted me one day as I entered our shared bedroom. "Shawn really wants you to go out with him?"

"Sherice, not my type, he is just too, too nice, too eager just too." I exclaimed, arms crossed.

"M, please I am tired of running interference. It is one date, you can see Cyborg. And you might even have fun." Jean-Claude, boredom, kindness to Sherice, a little guilt at being so angry, made me agree to a movie.

"Come here tall girl let's get you ready!", Sherice excited exclaimed. I just rolled my eyes.

Shawn was also excited, I resented his excitement. I resented our normal friendly movie date. He held the door for me, he bought our tickets and popcorn, and he was kind. He grabbed my hand after the movie on the way back to his truck. The epitome of a great movie date...except the movie sucked

He opens the pickup door for me, "Want to go parking?", he asks.

Young, bored and in control, I said, "Sure." I figured I could get some attention, enjoy a kiss or two. Go home and tell Sherice it was as boring as I thought.

Control, so important to me then and to the me of now. I have had it stolen; reason I hold it so close. I had never had it stolen from me the way this boy, this young man stole it from me that night. I was schooled in control in a very insidious way.

"How about we drive out to the airport and watch the planes land?", I suggest.

"Tell me where.", he says with a smile, dark eyes drinking me in.

We drove out north of town, parked near the end of the runway and watched the 11:15 land. The power of the plane only a few feet over our head, the air falling back in on itself after the plane passed, the huge plume of dust and debris as the wheels touch the tarmac and then the loud boom that comes seconds later. It is exhilarating and glorious, reminds us of the power of alive.

The next moments of that night are blurry with memory, the closeness of the cab of the pickup truck, the air cool with the smell of the end of summer, the breeze blowing the strands of my blonde hair, and the heat of his hand on mine. He turns to me and lifts one hand behind my head and brings me in for a kiss. His lips brush over mine. His lips parting just slightly and inhaling my breath as he begins a slow sensual dance. He pulls my bottom lip between his, slowly tasting, sucking. He pulls back and runs his tongue in the part of my lips, I feel no hurry in him. He is enjoying the feel of me. He continues to kiss me, never increasing the pace, the tempo of the kiss, just being present.

I want more, to move this along, to establish my control. I move forward, to deepen, to push, he inches back and tightens his hold with the hand behind my head. Slowing his movement, signaling his control. He continues to suck, kiss and nibble until my lips are swollen and I am kiss drunk. He then moves his tongue between my lips, hands cupping my head, kissing me deeply and time seems to stop. The feeling of him finally in my mouth, has me hitching my breath. Again, no hurry in him, no rush, no push. Him sucking on my tongue. Drinking in my mouth. I move to drive us forward, to gain control, again to speed the tempo and he pulls back. Breaking the kiss entirely. He then just looks at me, dark eyes holding mine, keeping my head in place. Establishing, his control.

I don't know if I had been kissed that way at the time. The old me has but not as often as to take it for granted. Where did this young skinny boy pick up this kind of finesse at seduction? And I was seduced, and freaking scared out of my head. I had stepped into something deep, sensual and out of my control. As my arousal continued to rise all I could think about was leaving. I wanted out of this intimate, intense bubble he had created.

"I think my Mom will want me home," I moan.

"You want to go?", he asks. I hesitate. Torn. I want more but I also want my control.

"We can go.", as he pulls back from me to make ready to leave. He is giving me the out. I leaned back to his kiss. Breaking the kiss, he pulls my shirt over my head and I offer no resistance. By staying he assumes I have given consent and I have.

"Take off your shoes," he says.

I bend to take them off, he then slides me closer to him and unbuttons my jeans, helps me shimmy out of them. As he does the cab of the pickup fills with the smell of my arousal. I am mortified. He lets me hide my embarrassment by ducking my head. I am in a bra, panties and socks. We are in this tight, intimate awkward space, he slides me under him, keeping one hand on the back of the seat.

He begins to run his fingers over my body, watching as he traces the lines of my youth, raising gooseflesh. Each stroke brings arousal to the surface of my skin. Delicious shivers of pleasure following in the wake of his fingers. He traces the outline of my bra, drawing circles on my stomach, never fully touching me. I arch to get his fingers on my nipples, more contact with his hand, anything to get more. I just need more. He just continues to skim me, continuing the build. I start moving with his hand moaning, needy. Sensing my frustration, he leans down and starts kissing me again. Distracting me from my need and building another.

He pulls away and starts the process over, running his hands up and down the length of me. Lightly touching the inside of my legs, skimming over my mons, lingering in the hollow of my hip, brushing over the top of my erect nipple. I fall open to him, spreading my legs so he will touch me more. I just need him to give me more. I was his in a way I had never been anyone's.

Sex was a game of control and I had always been in control. He let's me hide my loss of control, but we both know I would do anything to keep going. I had used the same power he now had over me to shamelessly tease and control.

He moved his hands to caress the inside of my legs. "Please", I murmured.

"Please?", he questions.

I want him to touch the center of me. He lifts me up and unhooks my bra and then slides my panties off. I am open to him now. He stopped kissing or caressing me and just looks. I am wet, flushed, lip swollen, arousal dripping, cunt swollen puddle of need. My natural self-consciousness at being naked in front of a man is nowhere to be seen. My legs are splayed wide, hips move of their own accord. He has me completely undone. And he just looks.

Finally, he pulls me down the seat, our combined breath has fogged the windows, the air humid with us. He unzips and unbuttons his jeans. Frees his hard dick. But again, he is in no hurry. He slowly runs his fingers across the center of me. Never landing with enough pressure on my clit to bring me. It has me chasing his hand with my hips. He finally holds my hips down with one hand and runs the tip of his dick through the slick hot arousal he has created. Again, teasing with shallow penetration, just the head in and out. Finally, he drives into me as he puts full pressure on my clit. The stretch and burn of that first penetration in time with full pressure on my clit and I come completely undone for him. The flush of my orgasm playing over my chest. I arch up into him, he pushes me back down and just holds me through my orgasm. I think this is the first time I have cum for a man during the act.

He then starts a slow fuck. All the way in, a hip sway for clit pressure and then all the way back out. I haven't even come all the way down from my orgasm. Each time he bottoms out I can feel his jeans against my legs. He keeps it slow until I have caught up again. Just an easy in and out, his passion dark eyes watching me. His intense slowness quickly builds into another orgasm and I quietly peak with him watching. Always watching.

After I come down, a little he picks up his pace and starts pounding into me searching for his own release. He is holding me in place bruisingly by the hips. He doesn't want my help. He just fucking me, hard and fast. Shawn tips his head back, moans his release.

He pulls out, he tucks himself in, slides his pants back up, button, and zips. He then pulls me to him and kisses me deeply. He helps me get dressed. I am shaky and uncomfortable now as I am coming down from the high. He holds me for a minute, not saying anything. Then he slides to his side of the truck and takes me home. He holds my hand to the door. He goes to his couch, me to my bed.

He had blown my young mind and I didn't know what to do with the experience. I fell asleep only after analyzing every detail until the small hours of dawn. As I came into the kitchen the next morning, he was standing by the sink, the morning sun caressing his bare chest. He turns to look at me and I look away before our eyes meet. I was too embarrassed, and confused to talk to him. I wouldn't take his calls. I decided I hated what he did. I love what he did. I can't reconcile what he did. The next morning, he returns home. I never heard from him again.