Okay, so how y'all doing. This story is going to be a little different from most, in that it is an actual fantasy of mine, and not a fictional piece.
So let me start by giving you a little background. I am a virgin. Yes, you read that correctly. Despite all the stories I have written on here, I'm a virgin. Hell, I've never even gotten a handjob from anybody other than myself. I learned to write erotica partly from reading the stories on here, and partly from a class on human sexuality that I took in college. My inspiration for writing it came from a couple of particularly sexual friends of mine.
Anyway, this story is a fantasy of what I kind of imagine and would kind of like my first time to be. Now, I'm not going to use real names in this story, so I'll use the names of a couple of my characters. For myself, I'll use the name of Jason Garrett, since I serve as the character basis for Jason (obviously not the sexual basis, just the character). For the girl, I'll use Tara Zelino, since she serves as Tara's character basis (she's also one of the friends who inspired me to actually write and post stories – she's one of only two people in the entire world who owns a hard copy of everything I've written). Any other names used in this story are also character names from my fictional stories, used in the place of the person they're the character basis for.
Finally, I've set this story at California State University at Northridge. Tara and I will both be attending school there next year. In reality, neither of us go to school at Fresno State. So, here we go.
*
It's the weekend after the first week of school. I haven't seen Tara in over a year, as she has been attending school in another state while I've been out here in California. I can't wait to see her. Ironically, we've grown even closer since we've been apart than we were before.
The drive in from Woodland Hills is driving me up the wall. She lives on campus; I live off campus, about five miles away. Unfortunately, there really is no good way to get from Woodland Hills to Northridge. Ventura Boulevard is a joke, and don't
even
get me started on Tampa Avenue.
Now, the last time anything even remotely sexual happened between me and Tara was a ridiculous make-out session in the library at our university. Unfortunately, I had to get to a choir concert and ended up leaving with a massive case of blue balls. Strangely enough, we had a bit of an argument about this nearly a year and a half later, where she said that she was certainly worked up herself – in her words, the female equivalent of blue balls! My response? "Well, at least you were able to go take care of it – I had to wait till after the concert was over!"
Finally, I reach CSUN. She lives in a dorm with some of her sorority sisters, but they somehow happen to all be away for the weekend. Convenient for me!
I'm getting nervous as I approach her door. I literally haven't seen her since March of 2004. I was a lousy friend for quite a while, but we've gotten very close as of late.
I remember delivering the printed version of all my stories to her. I was in the town where the school she was attending was, and I called her to say I wanted to drop it off, along with a card (it was a birthday present). Unfortunately, she was headed out of town, and so I ended up leaving it outside her dorm room door. Later, as I was driving back to California, I got a text message from her telling me that it was one of the best presents she ever could've received. Later, she told me she expected me to autograph it.
So now, I'm standing in front of her door. Tentatively, I raise my hand, and slowly knock. Once, twice, three times.
The door swings open – and there she is.
Tara's face lights up like it's Christmas Day. "EIGHT INCH!" she yells, jumping into my arms and wrapping my up in a bear hug – not something easy for somebody who's only 5'3"!
Oh, I guess I should probably explain Eight Inch. We both used to be in our college marching band. A couple of years ago, very early on the morning of our annual band festival, I was talking to a member of her section about handguns. I didn't know Tara very well at this point, but she just happened to walk up as we were talking about Desert Eagles. At that very moment, I happened to be talking about how the Desert Eagle has an eight inch barrel to give it more accuracy.
"So you have an eight inch barrel, huh?" she asked, with a very evil smile. And from then on, the nickname "Eight Inch" stuck. Every time she called me that, people would want to know what it meant, and her response was, "Jason has eight inches of cold, hard cock!"
I wish. It's more like seven. Eh, whatever. Every girl I've ever talked to says that it's the quality that counts, not the quantity. And yes, I know that that's pretty clichéd, but I
did
once have a female friend tell me that the absolute worst sex she ever had was with a guy with a ten inch cock who thought he was the king shit.
Anyway, done with that tangent.
Let me describe Tara for you. As I said, she's only 5'3". She's got an amazing body that I'm quite sure many females would be quite happy to have. Now, she's complained about it, in my presence, and I have, of course, disagreed with her, because, in my opinion, she's got nothing to complain about. She's got a fantastic ass, really nice legs, and her chest comes in at about a 34D. Blonde hair, a smile that would melt anybody's heart, and sparkling, almost laughing, blue eyes complete the "Tara package".
So as she embraces me, I hug her tightly. There's nothing quite like seeing a friend that you haven't seen in a long time (did I mention she's the only friend who's ever given me porn?).
She invites me in to her place. It's nice, but it's a dorm, and let's face it, dorms suck. I have never been a fan of dorms. But that's neither here nor there.
We spend a good hour or so just catching up. Yeah, we talk online and over the phone a lot, but that's just not quite like talking in person. Eventually the conversation turns to relationships.
Since that makeout session in the library, I've had a couple of relationships. One of them lasted for six months, and I really thought that she was the one – but it turned out I was wrong. The other was with a friend who I've known since we were both kids, but it was a long-distance relationship and, though it was fun while it lasted, didn't last very long. That's when I admit the truth. "You know," I say, "I often wondered what my relationship with Kelli would've been like if it'd been with you. Same goes for my relationship with Lauren."
This definitely comes as a surprise to her, but does not appear to shock her. "I've thought about you a lot too, Jason," she says. "You know, that day in the library – that was one of the sexiest, most erotic experiences I've ever had."
You know, even though she had told me that back in April, it still comes as a bit of a surprise – hearing her admit this in person. Tara has always been far more comfortable and open with her sexuality than I have, so the fact that I played a part in one of her most erotic experiences ever is a bit of a shock – but quite flattering at the same time.
"Yeah," I agree. "I would say that that was, by far, my MOST erotic experience ever."
At this point, I pause. Should I continue, or just let it lie?
I decide to continue.
"In fact," I continue, "I've often wondered what might've happened if I hadn't had to go to the choir concert."
A moment of silence descends over us. Then, Tara speaks.
"I think I know exactly what would've happened," she said. "We would've ended up... well, I think you know what we would've ended up doing."
Strange. Tara's ordinarily so comfortable with her sexuality, and yet she won't just out and say that we probably would've had sex to me? I press the issue.
"What?" I ask gently. "If it's 'We would've had sex,' you can just say it. I'm fine with you saying it."
"I know," she says. "It's just that – you're, you're different, Jason. Our friendship is just so different, so special, that I'm afraid that I'll say the wrong thing to you and then it'll be wrecked."
You know, I guess that makes sense, but I'm taken aback a bit. "Really," I reply. "I think that you underestimate my own personal sexual growth."
She looks at the floor for a bit. When she looks back up, her eyes are a bit moist. "I know it won't do anything," she says. "I – I just feel, I feel almost scared to say something like that to you."
Okay, time to back off a little. I move over by her and wrap my arms around her. "It's okay, Tara," I say. "Don't worry about it."
She hugs me back. "I missed you, Jason," she says.
I hold her for a couple more minutes. Then, I feel her head move. Turning my face a bit, I realize that she's looking up at me. She has that smile on her face – the one that makes my heart melt every time I see her. I smile back – and then I lean in.
Gently, I kiss Tara. Her eyes close, as do mine. The kiss only lasts a few seconds before we separate, but when I kiss her again, it's with passion, and almost a sense of urgency.
As our kisses heat up, I feel her tongue dart into her mouth. It feels almost like she's wrapping it around my tongue, like a snake around a branch. I've known some good kissers in my time, but she definitely takes the cake.
When we "come up for air", we're both breathing heavily, which is strange for two people who've had their asses kicked, year after year, by marching bands, as we have. I begin to kiss her neck, as little tiny gasps of air escape from her.
Kissing all around her neck, I gently kiss my way along her collarbone, out to her shoulder, and then follow the scoop of her shirt downward. When I reach her cleavage, a small alarm goes off in my head.
If you continue
