As I looked down upon her, with deep brown eyes whose look of fear seemed better suited on a cowering school-girl than framed by her angelic face, long curly locks, and goddess's body, I was able to whisper quite honestly that I knew how she felt. Years before, I had been the one looking up at my soon-to-be first lover, shaking in a mix of anticipation and fear...
I've never been one to date much. My rather inconsistent sense of self-confidence is of course the least attractive possible quality in a man raised in a world built and rooted on charisma. Some how my blazing red hair, freckles, and boyish grin had managed to spite even my best efforts of isolation, as I found myself in a torrid and emotional relationship with Danielle late in high school. As I entered my senior year, she had graduated, and looked forward to finally going off to college. I, being the notably less passionate, rational-to-a-fault part of the relationship, was sure that we could endure a simple year being apart, and would soon join her at the university. Dani, however, in spite of her own charisma, felt that she was abandoning both me and the relationship to follow her dream, and sought to secure it in any way she could before leaving.
Dani was also the closest I've ever met to a real life nymphomaniac, in spite of her religious upbringing, so it's no wonder what occurred to her next. She had slept with a previous boyfriend, and though she enjoyed it (like I said, nymph), felt that her virginity had been taken from her, rather than given away, and vowed never to do the same to anyone. Being raised in white middle-class suburbia, I was more than conservative enough at 18 to in fact still be one of those virgins, for the moment at least.
A week into my senior year, and a week before she left for college, Dani surprised me, showing up with a "lunch" of sorts at my favorite spot to waste away the hour break before my final class of the day. I say "lunch of sorts" because it wasn't at all what you'd expect: chocolate dipped strawberries, grapes, chocolate cake, even sparkling grape juice (the closest we could get to champagne under 21). Each bite she insisted on feeding to me slowly, seductively, damn near making me beg for every morsel! Little did I understand at the time just how ingenious of a natural psychologist she was, and how she had spent that entire hour classically conditioning me for the next.
She hooked my best friend's arm as he passed: "Billy, you'd skip class with me if you knew you would get laid for it, right?" Billy's eyes went wide, then narrowed knowingly as he looked in my direction. "I swear, I love you like a brother, but I'm going to kick your ass if you don't follow Dani out of this school this minute!" Billy always had a particularly red-neck way of motivating me into action. I'd never skipped a class before, I was a good kid, and couldn't imagine how my parents would react if they were to receive a phone call from one of the principals, leading me to resist (barely) her insistent pleadings to go "spend some time with her" at her (empty) house. However, being an 18 year old male, my response to the mere suggestion of getting laid was predictable, and Billy's encouragement was nothing more than the final nail in the already-well-sealed coffin. I was religious, and had been resistant in the past, sure, but hormones don't tend to take either of those into consideration!
Five minutes later, the tires of my Jeep were squealing around turns in a vain attempt to keep her Firebird in sight as we closed the last few blocks to her house. She had arrived a good 15 seconds before me, making me curious as to why she hadn't made it to the front door by the time I'd parked. My question was soon answered as she stepped out of her car, one buckle of her overalls undone, and her bra hanging seductively from her left hand. She giggled as a gaped.
Inside, my expectations of what was about to happen, fueled by a full hour of various forms of teasing and public seduction, took over both of my heads, and we kissed as passionately as newly-weds leaving the chapel. She being a mere 5'3", I had to lean down from my full 6' to scoop her up into my arms. Not yet satisfied, and continually impassioned by her frequent little seductions, grasps, nibbles, and caresses, I slung her over my shoulder in my very best Tarzan impression, and carried her upstairs. Being about 200 lbs, broad in the shoulder, and in decent shape from martial arts, it wasn't difficult to carry her 120 lbs, which would have seemed chunky on a normal girl of her height. She, on the other hand, could best be described as "luscious," I think, femininely curved to a near-cartoonish degree, carrying full 36D breasts.
Though I had gathered her up rather roughly, and bound up the stairs like a mad-man, my nerves began to make themselves known as we entered her bedroom, and my knees about gave way as I laid her gently atop her comforter. My knees still go slightly weak at the mental image of her lying there, short brown hair framing a face which defines the epitome of "cute," and flawless creamy skin, slightly tanned from the recent summer. A moment before, I could imagine a hundred ways to ravage this Aphrodite; now, I could think of nothing but the 2 pouty lips forming the most sexual expression I've ever seen on a woman. Needless to say, I kissed them.
Perhaps she could sense the new-found hesitancy creeping from the pit of my stomach and into my chest, or perhaps she had expected it all along, but just as I began to have familiar second-thoughts, she grasped me by the shoulders, and practically flung me on to the bed across and beside her, then rolling to straddle me completely. Whatever fires had been slowly ebbing away before that second were instantly re-ignited by her aggressiveness, though not yet at the cost of my fear. Never before or since have I been so fully conflicted; she was sure, however, of exactly how she intended for that conflict to end, and settled it quickly. Grasping both my wrists, she shoved them frighteningly forcefully beneath the hem of her shirt, and up, until instinct took over, and I was knowingly kneading those heavenly breasts. This was not a first for us; we had stripped naked and enjoyed many orgasms at the hands (or tongue) of the other in the past. With a skill only attained through hours of instruction from an occasionally aggressive girlfriend, I proceeded to tickle, tease, and otherwise pleasure her in every way imaginable short of sex.
Still straddling me, she unclasped the remaining strap of her overalls, allowing me to raise her shirt over her head, which forced her to bend slightly over me. Thankfully, the size of her breasts meant that a slight bend was all that was necessary to put them within range of my greedy lips, and soon her eyes were screwed shut in pleasure as her nipples grew hard between my gentle teeth. This time, I believe it was she that was overcome for the first time by the callings of the flesh, as she ripped my own shirt over my head, with no need for me to lean forward. Rising to her knees and un-straddling me, she pushed her overalls down, revealing two distinct, cock-throbbing surprises: one, she hadn't been wearing any panties the entire time, and two, she had fulfilled a life-long dream of mine in shaving her entire pussy bald. I swear it must have been waxed, it was so smooth! Already, she was wet and swollen with desire, leading me to join her instantly!
