We were seniors in high school. Eighteen year olds in a small town, where everyone knew everyone else's business, and privacy was a yet unlearned concept. Still, we found ways and places to steal away and make our own.
This little city had few residents, and even fewer forms of entertainment. So we entertained each other. Between classes, during after-school extracurriculars, and amidst social events, we created little versions of paradise. You would pull me into the girl's bathroom of the locker hallway we broke into during the Friday night football games. I'd take your hips and lips into my face as I laid you down on the piano behind the curtains of the stage of the theater department. Once, we even fooled around in the guidance counselor's office, you sneaking beneath the desk and unbuckling my pants, while I pretended to work on college applications. I remember it all too well.
Your Catholic schoolgirl uniform doing what little it could to hide the blossoming sexual vixen and her attributes beneath it. The way the arms of the chair I sat in pressed against the edge of the wooden desk, as you pulled me close to take me in your mouth. How the room sat a hallway down from the school chapel. The way you played with my balls in your mouth felt both angelic and sacrilegious in all the wrong and right ways.
We were too incredibly sexual beings coming into our own, learning about ourselves through exploring each other. We were destined to burn bright and then burn out. We just didn't know it yet.
Our friends and classmates didn't understand the passion. It all seemed too early for such incredible chemistry, but you and I were too swept up in it to notice. The drive that pushed us into each other every chance we got. The desire that filled my mind from the moment I saw you pass before first period, and press against me at your locker before third. By the time lunch rolled around, the only thing I hungered for was you. I craved you at night before bed, and dreamt of you when my eyes closed. You longed for my touch at odd hours, so I showed up at your bedroom window at even odder ones. The two of us held and touched and kissed and licked and squeezed and tasted every inch of each other, every moment we could find.
One weekend proved unusually opportune. Your parents were away, and your sisters, although tasked with watching the house, were younger than you were. So you had full use of your mom's van. Vans aren't the sexiest of venues, but who am I kidding - that van might as well have been a cruise ship. That van was freedom.
And if you and I were anything, we were two reckless youth chasing freedom.
The town mall and its movie theater provided the perfect alibi. I told my parents the film we would go see - Curious George. A fitting choice, seeing as you and I were curious about trying something different tonight. We'd been talking about it, and we knew we'd need a night like this one. So we made it happen. We chose the latest show time available. My friends were planning on going to the same one. At least, that's what I told them to say. This way, if my parents checked with any other parents, they would confirm that you and I were there.
A bit over the top? Maybe. But what can I say? Small towns and strict parents require smart kids and stealthy planning.
You picked me up around the corner from my house so my parents didn't see the ride you were rocking. I could barely keep my hands off of you the whole way there. But that was nothing new.
We arrived before I even noticed the large bag in the back seat. We parked at a far corner of the large lot that spanned the darkest corner of the mall. The moment you turned the car off, you jumped on me.
I took your tongue into my mouth and moved my fingers over the cute outfit you put on for me. Catholic school meant we only got to wear the clothes we liked two days of the week. That night, you went with a lacy, shoulderless top and a small, black skirt. Seconds passed before I had reached my hand beneath it to feel you weren't wearing anything underneath. I wish I had known earlier. The ride to the theater would have been even more interesting.
You nibbled on my neck as my lips wet my fingers, which moved to between your thighs. I felt you moan in my ear, teeth nibbling on my lobe as I moved my wet fingers along your labia. You were already wet, and I helped make you more so, as my mouth dragged along your neck down to your breasts. Nipples pressed into the small top you wore. I dragged the top off with my teeth, and pulled your cute, pink areola onto my tongue. I felt your hand run through my hair as my fingers slid inside of you. Little gasps escaped your mouth as your juices dripped down my hand. I could feel your hips start grinding into me, pressing me hard against the passenger seat.
But that passenger seat was too small to contain us any further. And the cars and their lights piercing the windows as they passed us wasn't the best setting for what was coming next. We came to this parking spot, in this van, for a reason.
You lifted off me and moved through the middle console to the backseat. Your hands moved quickly, as you pressed buttons and shifted leather shapes and the seats folded down into the floor. Seconds later, the backseat wasn't a backseat anymore. It was a continuous carpet floor reaching from my passenger seat to the trunk door. You reached for the large bag you'd brought, and pulled out a plush blanket. Laying it down, you emptied the rest of the bag. A bag of snacks, some vodka you stole from your dad's cabinet, and a few candles. You lit the candles and placed them in the corners of the space. Was spreading little fires around the floor of a soon to be shaking vehicle a smart move? Not in the slightest. Were we two horny young adults desperate for a halfway romantic setting? Absolutely.
I watched you as you sat down with your back to the trunk door, spreading your legs wide. Your fingers slid from your stomach to your pussy lips, spreading them open as I watched. You knew I liked watching anything you did, whether it was your dance team routines or something sexy as this. I could feel myself hard as fuck, almost bursting through my jeans. Your free hand shot a finger my way, beckoning me to come join you. I practically shot out of the front seat, falling to all fours as I crawled towards you.
"Take everything off for me." Your words halted me, and I stripped before you. The shirt and shoes and jeans, until only my boxers remained. I felt your eyes feasting on me, the same way mine were on you. Your hand still played with yourself, your lips glistening with wetness, my hands and mouth eager to taste them. My hand moved to my cock, massaging it beneath the fabric. We loved looking each other, two sexy and young creatures exploring ourselves while we soaked in the sight of the lover in front of us. I wanted to pounce on you, but I knew patience now meant a buildup that would be worth it.
I grabbed the bottle of vodka and took a swig. I was too young then to know that I fucking hate vodka. But I fucking loved you. Every little thing about you. At that age, infatuation was the same thing as love, and obsession was the same thing as devotion. I wanted to smother myself in your breasts and suffocate from your kisses. I wanted to taste your pussy and sink myself into you and never come up for air. You wanted to slide me inside of you and cum hard on me with my skin on your skin and my words in your ear. We shared with each other our deepest desires and strangest curiosities. That vulnerability only made us want each other more.
Your fingers began disappearing inside of you. The way you moved against your own hand and moaned with each successive come hither motion kept my eyes glued. I didn't realize my cock was out of my briefs and being stroked in my hand until your gaze aimed to it. My butt dropped to my ankles, and my body tensed all over as I joined you in touching myself.
This was it. What we had been dying to try. We had shared moments like this on the phone, staying up all night as we pleasured ourselves to the sound of the other end of the line. As we shared what we would do if we were in person. If the sheets that shrouded us were the same sheets. I heard your little cries through the weak speaker of the flip phone pressed tight to my cheek. You had to muffle the sound to not alert anyone in the house. I did the same on my end. And we came like that, together, for what seemed like endless times on endless nights that quickly turned to mornings.
Now, here we were, getting to watch each other for the first time. And I didn't have to imagine you in your bed. You were right there, a feast for my young, wide eyes. The hand that was playing with your breasts moved to the thigh, running its fingers along the inside of it. Those fingers pressed together and formed a little cup. I watched you as you spit a long stream of saliva into that hand. Something about the sight of that spit coming out of your mouth and falling to your hand, my eyes following it - it has never left my memory. That cupped hand floated just above your other hand, which was still massaging your glistening pussy, fingers moving circularly and then disappearing inside in a hypnotic rhythm.
You extended the cupped hand towards me. I reached to it, and brought my newly wet fingers to my dick. I saw you smile as I began stroking myself, joining you fully in this little experiment of ours.
