Short story; my first submission to Literotica. The characters in this story are, of course, of legal age. Please leave a comment, I welcome your feedback!
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SUMMER OF LINA
I gave Lina the giant teddy bear I won from the ring toss – as thanks, she took me behind the first aid trailer and sucked me off. It was my first sexual experience, and from that moment forward, as I saw her tender pink mouth go to town on me and watched her swallow with a smile, I could think of nothing else. We were strangers – I didn't even know her name until after she'd swallowed my cum – and all I'd done was given her a bear. It was illicit, and it was glorious.
I spent the next few weeks trying to woo another blow job out of Lina; I lavished her with every prize I won in those carnival booths. She rewarded me with smiles, and pecks on the cheek, but to my disappointment, nothing more. I bought her huge double-scoop ice creams and watched her mouth move up and down as she ate, my pants tightening at the sight of her deft little tongue.
As luck would have it, the summer wasn't without promise; at the end of July, Lina let me put my hand up her dress. We were riding the ferris wheel. I'd felt her watching me intently from the corner of her eye, but she did that sometimes, and I thought nothing of it. Then she spread her legs wide with a coy smile, and I sat there stunned, mesmerized by her milky white thighs and unsure what to do. She guided my hand up the inside of her leg and let me massage the folds of her pussy from outside her silk underwear. Our gondola swept through the station, and I wrenched my hand away, embarrassed. Lina giggled. It was a turning point; I knew now that my efforts were not in vain.
I got that long-awaited second blow job, aptly, inside the Tunnel of Love. As Lina unzipped my jeans and bent over my cock, I slipped a hand tentatively down the front of her blouse. It was a bold move; until now, Lina had led the charge, dictating how far we would go and keeping me on a desperate, mesmerized leash. If I'd called this wrong, it could ruin everything.
I hadn't, and it didn't. She leaned into the attention, filling my hand with her little tit, and to my dismay I came on the spot, unable to hold back as her nipple brushed the inside of my palm. She didn't seem upset. She wiped her mouth and refastened my pants, and for the rest of the ride, or at least until the boat trundled into the sunlight, my hand remained in her blouse, brushing gently against that soft nipple, and she didn't pull away.
There were trips through the Tunnel of Love during which nothing happened; our bodies remained several inches apart and Lina would make no move to touch me, and I would exit into the sunlight frustrated and bewildered. It was clear from the beginning of our sexually-charged relationship that she called the shots; I liked to think I held back out of respect, but truthfully, it was fear. I was spellbound by Lina, and my greatest fear was making a wrong move and giving her reason to spend her summer evenings with – and give that wet, magical mouth to – someone else.
She was a flighty thing, utterly promiscuous one moment and mysteriously closed the next. I began to feel like there were mutual feelings – more than sexual – between us, but I couldn't read her, and the delicate to-and-fro left me senseless.
We watched the circus acts from the highest bleachers in the tent, cuddled in the shadows, and she'd wiggle her hand into my pants and stroke me. I didn't come in those times, but I reveled in the attention. I'd feel her breasts over her shirt or slide my hand down to the small of her back; on the hottest nights, the skin between her blouse and her skirt would be exposed, and I could feel a delicate sheen of sweat as I trailed my fingers across her flesh.
Lina managed to surprise me in the strangest of places; atop the highest hill of the roller coaster, as the wind whipped through our hair and the dizzying height took our breaths away, she suddenly grabbed my hand and thrust it beneath her skirt. She wasn't wearing underwear, a realization that paralyzed my mind with delirious joy, and as the roller coaster swept through twists and dips and turns, my fingers twisted and turned, dipping into the warmth of her for the first time.
Our relationship was hopelessly one-sided; after the incident on the roller coaster, Lina continued to tease and pleasure me regularly, but would press my hand away if I reached to reciprocate. I longed to feel the inside of her again, but she kept it from me, instead increasing the frequency of her ministrations until it seemed a sure thing we would be caught in the act. She sucked me dry against the side of the ticket booth, beneath the scaffolding of the train, surrounded by our own reflection in the House of Mirrors – I came explosively that day, overwhelmed by the sight of her ass cheeks swaying beneath her dress and her mouth sliding back and forth over my cock – and on the rising and falling horse of a carousel. I grew accustomed to tangling my hands in the silky curls of her hair and drawing her to me, filling her throat again and again and again. I was awash with the constant buzz of release.
We must have looked innocent and unremarkable as the summer went on, and we blended into the crowds easily, my arm wrapped protectively around Lina's shoulders, her head pressed gently into my chest. The nights were not only about sex; there was a quiet enjoyment in just being together, though I never fully knew where I stood with her. We hadn't kissed yet; her mouth had been around my cock countless times, her dresses were often sticky with my cum, and she murmured into my ear how much she loved the taste of me, but the basic right of romantic passage eluded us.
In the late days of August, on a night when the sun was long past set, Lina ushered me into the shadow of the observation tower and held me at arm's length. I watched, not daring to move or speak, as she lifted her hands to her shoulders and slipped from the sleeves of her dress. The dress fell to her waist, and her breasts – small, round, and perfect – were revealed in the moonlight. I had never seen them before, only felt them, and for a moment I was unable to move or breathe. I felt a gnawing hunger for Lina like never before.
"Touch me," she whispered.
I obeyed her, reverently – one hand to each breast, caressing, gathering them in my palms . Those soft little tits, sparingly given in the past yet still familiar to my hands, felt suddenly new; now I was touching them at Lina's behest, and as she sighed and her head tilted back in the moonlight, my body swelled with desire. I wanted to touch her elsewhere, everywhere, to taste her, to lay her down and lift her legs over my shoulders, to explore her with my tongue until her sighs became screams; I wanted to smell her, to feel her writhing against me and arching into a shuddering crescendo. Nevermind that she was my first everything; the only release I had ever known outside of my own hand had been at the mercy of her mouth, and I had never so much as kissed her; right now I wanted to kiss her there, to immerse myself in her most intimate place and feast until her ecstasy was my victory.
I was, as always, going too far, too fast. Lina sensed this, and her face lifted forward, her eyes meeting mine, and she shook her head ever so slightly. I thought the moment was over, that I'd ruined it with my desperate anticipation, but she drew closer still, and, moving one of my hands to the softness of her waist, lifted herself toward me and offered her naked breast to my mouth.
The invitation was dizzying; I bent my knees, and with my hands on her hips, I drifted my tongue across her breast. The pink skin puckered as Lina's head tipped backward again. And then the nipple was in my mouth and I was sucking, gently, tasting a piece of her flesh for the very first time.
She guided me even with her gaze lifted to the stars, taking my hand and moving it to her other breast, inviting my fingers to squeeze and pinch and tease. Her breath grew uneven and she wound her fingers into my hair, and I reveled in our roles finally being reversed; she wordlessly egged me on as I tasted her; I moved my mouth to her collarbone and back again, twirling my tongue over the tips of her nipples and sensing how they lusted to be touched again whenever my mouth moved away. I feasted on her nipples in the way I had moments before wished to feast on the rest of her, fevered with the knowledge that for once I was the one giving the pleasure instead of receiving it.
I fooled myself into believing that our tryst would intensify; Lina drew away from me and slipped back into the sleeves of her dress, silently reminding me that our summer of torturous anticipation was not yet at its peak.
There was something different after that, though – a shift, a drifting in the tectonic plates beneath the surface of whatever it was that we were to each other. She reached for the zipper of my jeans a little less often; when she did venture down there, the movements of her mouth were slow and measured and erotic, baiting me instead of feverishly sucking me to my peak. A few times, she stopped before I could finish. I stood stunned, my nipples still warm from her hands, my bare ass pressed against the safety railing on the upper floor of the funhouse, as Lina licked my balls one final time and stopped. She slid my cock back into my underwear and, zipping my hard-on in with some difficulty, kissed me on the cheek and linked her arm in mine. We were off again, strolling through the carnival hand in hand, a young couple with an angelic outer appearance that belied our heathen secrets.
The summer was drawing to a close, and I became anxious. Thoughts of what would happen to us when the lights went out and the carnival moved away had nagged at my mind all summer, but had flown away every time Lina's warm, wet mouth convinced me I was the only man in the world. Lina must have sensed it, too, the finality of what we had, and she suddenly became fevered again. She touched me constantly, stroking me to a confused climax on the Tilt-A-Whirl; she purred in my ear as the cotton candy machine whirred and the little children stared at us, and pushed me into the darkest corners of the haunted house to take my cock into her throat.
The final week of the fair brought with it a somber tone; Lina closed off once again, and there was less enthusiasm in our nights together. Of course we had seen and experienced everything in the carnival countless times; whatever there was to experience – rides to ride, food to eat, games to be played – was old hat to us now. The humming tension of our relationship had kept us going all summer, had brought us back nightly to continue our frenzied game of sexual hide and seek, but now in the final nights, something had fizzled.
I'd always known, in the back of my mind, that Lina intended to draw this thing out until the very last night of the summer. It was a game I was keen to play; as long as she devoured me so greedily and strung me along with her promiscuous games, I couldn't stay away. But it had to reach its pinnacle at some point – surely this must lead to some unforgettable finish.
I lost all hope on the last night of the carnival, when Lina held my hand limply, and there was no electricity left between us; not even a spark. She seemed disengaged – both from me and the surroundings – and I had to accept that whatever glorious ending to the summer I had expected, it was not to be. Maybe Lina had been disappointed in me – and, in some way, I was not surprised to learn that I had failed her; this had all begun with a teddy bear, after all, a silly prize that I would have given away to anyone, had the prettiest girl in the world not happened to be standing there beside the ring toss booth in a moment of serendipity. I certainly hadn't expected that lovely girl to drag me behind the first aid trailer and blow me; I was naïve, Lina's voracious appetite completely foreign to me, and that encounter had awakened something fierce within me that would last forever.
We drifted apart at the gates of the fair, our fingertips no longer touching. I wondered again how this was supposed to end. Should I kiss her? Was that to be our final goodbye, the still-absent romantic kiss? Or would she peck me on the cheek and leave me standing there, alone and confused, defeated but resigned to a summer that had been good while it lasted?
