Take My Cherry Please

Take My Cherry, Please

Sometimes, the first one really is the best one.

Mick and I had known each other since childhood. He was known as Micky back then, and we lived on the same block. Back in the neighborhood, we were the best of friends. We held bike races, climbed trees, and played board games for hours when it was raining. We even remained best friends after Micky hit me on the lip with a pinecone, at least after the bleeding stopped and Micky's mom made him come over and apologize.

By the time we reached middle school, the BFF thing faded as we moved to our age-appropriate groups, but we still remained friends. It wasn't the same, naturally, we could no longer tell each other our deepest, darkest teen secrets. Those were saved for members of our own gender. Girl-girl stuff, of course, remained just that. And I assume it was the same for the guys. But Micky was always there for me if I needed a guy around to defend my honor or perform any other intrinsically male function.

When it came time for college, I went out of state to Grinnell, a private liberal arts college. It wasn't really my choice, but my mother was an alum, and that made me a legacy. Besides, the school was co-ed and six hundred miles from my parents. Mick, as he was now called, had gotten a soccer scholarship to OSU, and now my best friend and substitute brother was even further away. We saw each other during school breaks and in the summer, but that was pretty much it.

I never doubted for a minute that Mick had an active social life while attending a major public university. The handsome, smart, and a star athlete would be irresistible to horny buxom co-eds. And boys will be boys, I fully understood that. On the other hand, I remained pretty much as I had throughout middle and high school. Morphing from tomboy to adolescent wasn't easy for me. I was normal looking enough, with sandy blonde hair just past my shoulders, trim figure, and respectable B-Cup boobies. It was just my shy and rather bland personality. I just wasn't motivated to chase boys or to be chased.

That came to an end during my junior year at Grinnell. I was simply a Liberal Arts major, which meant that I had no prescribed field of study. So, I took whatever interested me each semester. The spring semester of my junior year, I signed up for a course in child psychology and was surprised by the number of men in the class. One was a handsome athlete named Gage Boman. I can't say for sure, but I think what attracted me to him was that he looked a lot like Mick. Tall, dark hair, muscular, and alluring sexuality that, for some reason, just got my juices flowing.

It was not normal for me to flirt with any boy, but as Gage had inspired me like no other guy ever had, I became the seductress that had always been lying dormant within me. Within a few weeks, I was attending his baseball games, meeting him for lunch, and informally dating. I was still afraid of actual nighttime dates, as I was holding onto a deep, dark secret that I wasn't quite sure how to tell him. Then, just as I was getting my courage up to commit to this guy, I received a gut punch that threw our entire relationship into doubt.

We were attending a party with many of the school's athletes. Beer was flowing freely, and I'm sure Gage had maybe had one too many, but there was no way I could unhear the conversation Gage was having with a half-dozen other guys. One of the boys was bragging about the virgin he had just deflowered and claimed she had not been his first. In fact, he preferred virgins as they gave him the ultimate notch on the bedpost of life.

This started a lively discussion of the pros and cons of such a feat, and to my surprise, Gage was squarely in the other camp. I was standing behind him and facing the other way, talking to a group of girls, but I recognized his voice and could clearly hear every word.

"I would never fuck a virgin," Gage proclaimed. "Why would you hire a mechanic who had never looked under the hood of a car? Would you fly with a pilot who had never flown a plane before? Would you go to a doctor whose only training was Boy Scout first aid? No--no, I want someone who knows what the fuck they're doing. It's hard enough to bed a chick around here, and I damn sure don't want to spend good money wining and dining some chick only to find out she was in a remedial class."

The guys all started laughing, half agreeing with him and half arguing the other side. But after another swig of his beer, Gage continued, "I want a chick who knows how to please a guy, who knows how to fuck and show me a good time. I don't want some bimbo who had never sucked a dick in her life. She might bite me by mistake, and she might even gag when I unload down her throat."

Now this really did get a huge laugh from the group, and wiping tears of laughter from their faces, they all moved toward the keg to refill their beer cups. I was not laughing; I was almost in tears. Not because Gage had had so much experience with other girls, but because I was a virgin. The very type of girl he railed about.

Spring break was the next week, and upon returning home, I was relieved to see Mick was also home. "Micky," I said over the phone after seeing his car in the driveway of his parents' house. "I need to see you. Can we meet somewhere to talk?"

"Sure, Tori," he responded. "What's the matter?"

"I just need to talk... I mean, I have a favor to ask."

"Of course, you want me to come over?"

"No," I said, pausing for a moment. "How about Starbucks?"

"Sure, I'll pick you up in ten," Mick quickly responded.

In less than four minutes, he was in front of my house, and I ran to the car to meet him. "Okay, what can I do for you?" he questioned once the car was rolling.

I was calm and wanted to remain so, but I just turned and smiled, "Oh, I just have a small favor to ask. We can discuss it over coffee."

It took us only fifteen minutes to get to our neighborhood Starbucks, and with cold Frappuccinos in hand, we found a quiet table under a century-old oak tree. After taking a sip, Mick spoke first, "Okay, Tori, what's going on?"

I swallowed hard, cleared my throat, and slowly said, "Micky, I'm dating this guy..."

"Oh, Tori, that's great. Congratulations."

"No--there's more." I took a long swig of my Frappuccino. "The issue is..." Now I took another sip, as I built up the courage to say it out loud, "I'm a virgin."

Mick didn't laugh as he knew I was serious. He sipped his drink and replied slowly, "That's okay, lots of guys like virgins. It's nothing to worry about." He paused to consider his next words carefully. "Tori, if you're worried about it--I mean, how to do it, etc., shouldn't you be talking to another girl about this?"

I was about to pee my pants, but I had already made up my mind about this, and I just had to say it. "No, Micky, that's not what I'm asking about." I took another sip of my drink, hoping it would give me strength. "I want you. You are my best friend, and I want you to teach me. To take my cherry, please."

"What?" Mick exclaimed.

"I like this guy, Micky, but I overheard him talking to a group of his friends, and he made it very clear that he would never fuck a virgin." I just stared at him to see what his response would be. "I want to keep dating this guy, I want to sleep with him. But he made it very clear that he likes girls who know what they are doing, and I don't know anything."

I could tell Mick was in shock. I'm sure this was not what he expected when he picked me up. But I was serious, and I think he knew it.

"Okay," Mick responded slowly. "So, when and where?"

"My house--tomorrow."

"Oh, thank God, I was afraid you were going to say, 'Right here on the picnic table.'"

I actually laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. "And you'd do it too, I bet."

"Anything for you, Tori. You really are my best friend, you know," he said, trying to keep a straight face.

I could barely sleep that night, and as soon as I heard my parents leave for work, I sprang from my bed and raced for the shower. I took a steaming hot shower, paying particular attention to any area of my body that might harbor any body odor. Then, satisfied that I had covered every contingency, I spent just as much time washing my hair. Stepping from the shower, I wrapped myself in a bath towel and returned to my room. There was no one home, but wrapping myself in a towel was just something I had always done.

Standing in my room, I allowed the towel to slip from my body, and I stood admiring myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. My skin was still rosy pink from the shower, and my wet hair looked like I had just come from the pool. I looked sexy and I liked it. What guy wouldn't want to fuck me? And why on earth did I wait so long? I dropped my hand to my fuzzy triangle and started to rub. It felt good. I'd masturbated before, but for some reason it felt different this time. I was about to get fucked for the first time in my life and I was ready. Boy, was I ready!

At noon on the dot, there was a knock at the front door. Butterflies shot through my stomach, but that didn't slow me down as I raced to let Mick in. "Right on time," I cheerfully said as I opened the door.

He had a cold six-pack of beer with him, and holding it up for me to see, said, "I heard there was a party here, and I didn't want to be late."

"Come in," I replied, taking the beer from him. Yes, there is a party, and you are the guest of honor. In fact, you are the only guest." I led Mick to the kitchen, where I was preparing a grilled cheese sandwich for him. It has been a favorite of ours since we were kids, and it is still a sentimental favorite of mine.

Sitting at the kitchen table, we ate our sandwiches and chatted like the two old friends we were, the only difference being that we were drinking beer instead of my mom's lemonade. Upon finishing, Mick leaned back in his chair and said, "Okay, where do you want to do this?" Up until that point, we had not discussed the purpose of our visit, but it was clearly the elephant in the room.

I got up and pulled two more beers from the refrigerator. Handing one to Mick, I said, "My room."

Mick had been in my room hundreds of times over the last decade, and I'm sure it looked pretty much the same, but this time, we weren't going to be playing Monopoly. We had both taken several sips of our fresh beers as we walked from the kitchen to my room, but after one more sip, I took both bottles and placed them on my bedside table. I then lay down in the center of the bed and spread my arms, inviting Mick to join me. I was wearing a Grinnell Athletics T-shirt and white jogging shorts. I wasn't wearing a bra, and I'm sure he knew that. But I also wasn't wearing any panties, and I suspect he didn't know that.

Mick was wearing a polo shirt, which he quickly pulled off over his head, and cargo shorts. He smiled at me and paused for a second. But sensing that I was ready, he unsnapped the shorts and let them fall to his feet. He was still wearing whitey-tighties, but I could see his interest growing under the taut white fabric. A naughty smile spread across my face, and Mick lay down beside me.

We kissed and rolled around on the bed for a good five minutes before Mick finally ran his hands up under my shirt to feel my perky pair. And perky they were. My nipples were hard as little brown rocks, and once Mick had my shirt up, he quickly began sucking first one, then the other. He held my boobs together with both hands, and darted from one titty to the other, back and forth.

I was squirming like a fish on the hook, and after several minutes of mammary worship, Mick headed down my belly to the

promise land

. I was so wet by then that I was ready to get naked. I sat up and pulled my T-shirt off over my head. I then wiggled out of my gym shorts as fast as I could. We were now both at the same state of undress, and I was ready for him to remove my final remaining garment, and as I started to push my panties from my hips, Mick quickly sat up, and as I raised my hips, he worked them free and off over my bare feet.

Throwing my briefs to the floor, he took the opportunity to do the same with his, and we were now both as naked as the day we were born. I had never seen a real live penis in my life, and certainly not one fully erect and ready for action. But I saw it now and again, my poor stomach was a flutter with butterflies.

As hard as Mick was, I thought this was it, and I was prepared for whatever pain or discomfort was about to come my way. But, no, not yet. To my surprise, Mick lay back down on the bed and lowered his face to the fuzzy area between my legs. I felt him kiss me several times on my hairy bush, but soon he spread my legs as far as they would go and brought his tongue to my most personal slit.

The sensation was beyond anything I could have imagined. And he probed me first with his tongue and then both tongue and fingers, it was like heaven on earth. A feeling like no other I had ever experienced in my short twenty-one years on this earth. Fingering me with two or more fingers, and flicking and sucking gently on my clit, Mick brought me to the first real orgasm of my life. My body shook uncontrollably, as fluid leaked down my butt crack and soaked the bedspread below me.

"Micky--Micky," I squealed, finally getting him to stop.

Sitting up on his elbows, his face was soaked with my juices as he asked, "Did you like that?"

I was panting like a racehorse and all I could say was, "Yes--yes. God damn it yes!"

He reached over me and picked up his beer. After several sips, he handed the bottle to me and asked, "Are you ready for the next lesson?"

I still couldn't speak, but between sips of the still-cold beer, I managed to smile and nod yes.

"I'll let you catch your breath," Mick said as he rubbed my leg. I was still vibrating with sexual energy, and I appreciated the brief respite, but I was also ready to continue. What I didn't realize was that the next activity was not what I was expecting. After a moment to allow me to calm down, Mick moved up to the head of the bed and threw one leg over my head. "Lesson number two," he purred. "It's your turn to see what you can do for me."

Now, this had not occurred to me either. I truly enjoyed him eating my pussy, but I had not considered that it comes with a price, The price of a blow job that is. But I quickly remembered what I had heard Gage tell his buddies. "I want a chick who knows how to please a guy, who knows how to fuck and show me a good time. I don't want some bimbo who had never sucked a dick in her life. She might bite me by mistake, and she might even gag when I unload down her throat."

Those words now stuck in my throat, and if I were going to prove myself worthy, I would need to learn how to suck a cock and do it with skill and grace. I rolled onto my belly and handed Mick back the now-empty beer bottle. He placed it on the table and, picking up the remaining bottle, brought it to his lips. "Take your time, Tori. There is both an art and a science to this."

"What do I do first?" I said as I looked up at him.

"Take me in your hand and slowly start to stroke me. Gently holding me, slide your hand up and down," he thoughtfully explained.

I understood this, as it made sense. I could tell that he was not quite as hard as he had been before eating my pussy, but as I gently slid my hand up and down his magnificent manhood, he was quickly regaining his strength. I also cane to understand that I was actually sliding the skin of his penis up and down with my hand, against the blood engorged tissue that makes him hard in the first place.

"Now scoot up so that you can take me in your mouth," Mick instructed, and I complied. Now, kiss the tip several times and leave some spit on it. I again followed his directions, and he was clearly pleased.

"Okay, Tori, that's wonderful. Now lick the entire length of my dick, for in just a minute, you're going to let me slip into your mouth."

I followed his directions carefully and several minutes later, using his hands to direct me, he moved my head directly over his pulsating phallus and gently nudged his purple crown into my mouth. The following action was somehow instinctive, for without additional instruction from Mick, I gently began bobbing my head up and down while keeping my lips sealed against the sliding skin of his glorious rod.

"Good girl, Tori. Oh, good girl," Mick moaned as I continued to do what seemed natural. Suddenly, he flinched and cautioned, "Teeth, Tori. Teeth."

I quickly pulled my head from his groin, but continuing my slow and steady hand stroke, said, "Oh, Micky, I'm sorry. Did I bite you?"

"No. You didn't bite, but you must be careful of your teeth. Just lips and tongue--no teeth, be careful."

I lowered my head back over his purple knob and tried carefully to avoid touching any skin with my teeth. This is probably where the art and science of a blow job comes into play that Mick had mentioned earlier. But as I continued practicing my newfound skill, of pleasing a man orally, I had forgotten what the end result of sucking a man's dick would be. Suddenly Mick's body tightened, and his pecker got noticeably thicker and harder. I should have realized that I was about to get him off--but I didn't.

"Ahhh..." Mick groaned, and I felt his hand on the back of my head. Suddenly, I understood. Without any further warning, my mouth was filled with a hot, simmering slurry of his manly fluids. He had come into my mouth, and I had no idea what to do. It was cumming faster than I had ever imagined, and there was so much of it. I couldn't begin to swallow it all, and I was afraid I would gag. I remember what Gage had said to his friends. Luckly, seconds later, Mick removed his hand from the back of my neck and allowed his cock to slip from my mouth.

My mouth was absolutely full of his fluid, and I was grateful that he said, "You don't have to swallow, Tori. Spit it out if you want. No one will care."

I had nowhere to spit it out, and I jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. Returning a few minutes later, still wiping my mouth with a hand towel, Mick apologized. "I'm sorry, I should have told you I was cumming."

"No, no," I said. "You told me this was lesson two, I just didn't realize there would be a pop quiz."

I don't think I have ever heard Mick laugh so hard. "And you passed with flying colors. You get a gold star in blow jobs,"

"I had a good teacher," I said. "But what about lesson three? Are you still going to pop my cherry?"

"Oh, yeah," Mick exclaimed. "I just need a minute to recover." With that, he rolled off the bed and, stark naked, walked to the kitchen. He returned a minute later with the last two beers, and twisting the top off both of them, handed one to me. We clinked bottle necks together and took a swig. Mick then lay down with cold beer still in his mouth, snuggled up, and resumed kissing me. His cold mouth felt good, and he continued to snuggle and rub our bodies together. It wasn't long before I could feel him begin to recover.

I don't know how long we continued in that mode, but it was probably ten or fifteen minutes. But soon enough, he pulled back and, rising up on one elbow, asked, "Are you ready?"

I just smiled and nodded yes. That was all he needed to know. He rolled me to my back and spread my legs. Then, positioning himself between them, he took his hand and guided it to his erection. "I'm going to let you control the action, Tori. You run my dick up and down your slit and when you're prepared to move forward, raise your hips. That way, I'll know you are ready, and I'll push gently." I nodded my understanding and holding him tenderly with both hands, slowly started guiding the head of his dick up and down my slippery crack. He then added, "Tori, just lower your hips if you want me to stop pushing."