First Time

It is the sort of party where people stay the night (shoes and bottles scattered around the house), we have spent the entire evening exchanging heated glances and heavy touches when we think no one is looking. These things happen often among our friends and I look for you at every gathering, thinking of the first time we met.

We shared a room, lying on separate twin beds, staring at the ceiling and making forced conversation. I could have sworn I heard a muffled moan from you, and it took all my self control not to slip fingers beneath and inside and imagine it was you. I did not sleep, from nerves, the thought of being so close to you but too afraid to cross the room to touch.

And as things are dying down tonight, we find ourselves in that room. Before the door is even closed this time, an instinctual, animalistic reaction occurs. I pull you in, closing the space between your body and mine, my hand running up your thigh, grasping hungrily as I reach you. I am frightened by how bold this is, but I am hungry for you, I ache for you. My fingers toy with your zipper as my lips, teeth, tongue devour your neck before I lean back and direct your mouth to my shoulder, collarbone, chest. And then we break apart. We have been thriving on this uncertainty for so long that it seems clandestine to be here. I cross the room, looking back over my shoulder and ask if you mind if I sleep in my underwear.

At your assenting nod, I slide the shorts I am wearing to the floor, stepping out of them still in my heels, those blue ones you have always admired. You catch a glimpse of the black lace panties hugging the lines of my hips. I grasp the edge of my shirt and pull the fabric up over my head, revealing the matching, almost sheer, bra. And for a moment, I stand there; watching you watching me. Then I kick off the heels and make my way to one of the woefully small twin beds. I pull the sheet up just enough to cover one leg, turning on my side, head propped up on one elbow, and I smile at you. I watch as you remove your shirt. I watch as you unbutton your pants and let them fall to the floor. I watch as you cross the room and lay down on the other bed. We talk, enjoying the delay, the uncertainty, the potential and the build. And when we can think of no other words to say, you sit up.

We are silent. You can hear my breathing, ragged and slow now. You are the first to move, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. We are still again, eyes locked. I move to you, wrapping my arms around your neck, slipping my legs on either side of yours until I am astride you. My breasts are trembling, nearly directly in front of your face. I lean in until my lips are hovering just above yours. And I wait for just the slightest moment. Then I let my tongue caress your lips as I slide my hand down past the waistband of your boxers and take hold. I kiss you more firmly as I begin a rhythmic motion, hand and hips synchronized. Your hands travel up my back, unhooking my bra and cupping the soft skin as it falls free. You allow a moan to escape your throat before placing your hands on my shoulders and pressing down. I understand the command but I take my time getting there. My lips, teeth, tongue explore your chin, neck, chest, waist, lingering along the line of your hip as I slowly slide my knees to the ground. I enjoy this tease, the wait for greater pleasure, but you take my head in your hands, strong but gentle, and direct me until I take you in my mouth.

I let you dictate the speed and depth, using your grasp on my hair as control. You can feel the desire in every movement of my mouth: lips closing tight and then releasing, tongue sliding up and down, teeth barely making momentary contact. You hear the sigh that makes its way from me and know that I have discovered that you are as delicious as I have always imagined. And then, because you want me to be as close to the edge as you are when we finally come together, you pull me up and flip me onto the bed. You pay careful attention to my neck, breasts, thighs, finding places that cause my back to arch and my muscles to clench. Your fingers blaze trails that your tongue soon follows. You don't linger as I did but instead attend to me voraciously, in a way that makes me clutch desperately at the sheets, and stifle screams. And when you experience me cum for the first time, you relish the absolute control you have over me at this moment.