I was 24 when I lost my virginity to my BFF's boyfriend. She told me it was about time and that I was too hung up on meeting the perfect man and she was tired of being the only one with good stories to tell.
I mean she was right. I don't know why I waited. I wasn't afraid of it. I didn't think it was dirty or sinful. I just had these ideas in my head that there would be "the one" and I would know it.
I had dated boys in high school and college, and had plenty of fun, but always came up short (pun intended) when the moment arrived to finally open myself up completely.
"You're hot," Bree, would say, "You've got great tits. You're curvy but not ridiculous. You've got no end of boys who want that ass. When are you going to let them fuck you?"
"I don't know," I'd say, "I just always thought that I'd
know
, you know? No one feels magic?"
Bree would throw up her hands and say, "Magic! Ugh. Kill me. Tina the tease! That
pussy's
magic!"
"Tina the tease" stuck for a while. She'd call me that at parties hanging out together with one or another of her string of boyfriends that adored her. That was their fatal flaw. As soon as they fell in love, she'd be done with them. She just wasn't ready for the commitment.
But I was the tease?!
She was bossy like that, but I was into it. Not that I needed to 'break out of my shell' or whatever. I was quite comfortable ending up at home with a book rather than a boy. But following her lead often led to fun. I couldn't deny that. And I would follow her anywhere. I mean, the view!
We just had more fun hanging out together than with boys. One problem was, we loved each other enough that I don't think any man compared. The other problem was that we still loved dick.
Sure, we had played together. A little bi-curiosity never hurt anyone. It was Bree who taught me how to masturbate -- or at least not to be ashamed of it. We kissed a few times over the years, mostly to rile up the boys. And yes, sometimes, we'd get into a bit and end up in a cuddle back in our apartment at the end of the night. And maybe I'd be into a bit more than she was because, let's face it, she was a little hottie. Petite with perky breasts that never needed a fucking bra, and nipples that would rise up like pencil erasers under all her distressed tees. Then last year she got them pierced and would wear little bars in them. She loved a sheer 'fit, and having to do the "eyes up here" glance, even though everyone knew she liked throwing out the challenge like that. Then, when they inevitably looked down in embarrassment, she say "Don't look at my ass hanging out of these shorts, you little creeper."
I envied the ease she felt with her body. The tiniest bathing suits. The party outfits: a transparent bra outlined in a pink, fuzzy border. Sheer neon tights over the white thong that highlighted her bubble butt like a fucking billboard and the tiny triangle that just covered the lips of her pussy. And me next to her in a one piece swimsuit at the pool, or in an under-wire bra at the party because my girls would bounce right out without a little restraint.
I thought of myself as introverted, and she thought I was more repressed. But it wasn't shame. It just wasn't desire. My nightstand was my boyfriend. I could get off just fine with a vibrator. I enjoyed a thick dildo. And I might fantasize a little, as I looked down at my body taking that plastic dick, that it was attached to a flat stomach and muscular chest hovering over me, quivering not out of fatigue, but the pure strain of not wanting to come in me too soon.
One time, as I had myself squirming at the edge of orgasm, picturing myself biting my lip, rolling my eyes back, and giving him that little nod, I flashed on an image of Bree there stroking his shoulders and saying, "That's right. Cum for her, baby."
Fuck, that was it.
It was one of those little intrusive thoughts. Just picturing her next to me. In a way, it was like she was my naughty angel telling me it was OK to take it, that I could come now. In my fantasies I wasn't fully having sex with her but we were having sex
together
. We were encouraging each other. Bree was my slutty cheerleader and I was taking one for the team. (Or taking on the team.)
I didn't share that with her. I was afraid, maybe, that she might get worried that I was crushing on her, or making it weird. We were tight and I wasn't going to threaten that by confessing that I sometime imagined her with her boys, or her with mine. It was, after all, just a fantasy, and weren't they all implausible and private and just taboo enough to get you off?
And maybe I was even more afraid, that if I told her, she'd be into it. She did like to push my buttons (so to speak.) Like the time we were laying together at the end of the night and she'd curled up behind me. She started whispering in my ear, telling what to do with my hands to myself, then telling me to stop, then telling me to go. Like I said, she could be bossy.
Feeling her naked skin against my back, caressing my shoulders as she said, once again, "Stop."
I moaned,
"You want to come?"
I nodded.
"Why don't you? What's keeping you from coming?"
I shook my head. She knew but I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"You need to beg me? Is that it, my little tease?"
"Mm."
"Yes, then just beg me."
"P- please. Let me?"
"Oh, Tina, you can do better than that."
She had me on the edge for a long time. I was mumbling, "Please, please, please." My fingers were literally on my clit but I found I couldn't move them -- not until she said so. And when she finally did...
"That's it, my little tease. That's so good."
I think my scream might have woke the neighbors.
Afterward, Bree just cuddled with me and let me soak up the sensations. She didn't say anything more. The only other thing was she brought my hand up to her mouth and gently kissed and licked my fingers. It was heaven and I fell asleep that way.
Then came one night, when she and her then boyfriend, Robert, were having a little after party at our apartment. Robert was built: tall and maybe too skinny, but you could tell in a couple of years he would be broad and handsome. He was sweet too. I think Bree knew I looked at him, but she wasn't the jealous type at all. Plus, she knew I was not one to steal any man -- least of all from her. But more than once -- I think for my benefit -- I'd caught a glimpse of them through the bedroom door she "forgot" to close all the way, or like tonight, in the front room after she "thought I'd gone to bed."
I had come out to get a late-night snack, thinking they were in her room. (I'd even first glanced at her door to see if it was open. But then I turned to see her and Robert on the couch making out. She was facing him straddled over hips. Her top was off and so was his shirt but they hadn't gotten farther than that. She was kissing him slowly and passionately while he caressed her short hair (pixie for a pixie.) She was stroking his chest and shoulders when I stepped too far into the room.
I started to turn back but Bree called out, "Oh, I'm sorry, Tina, hold up."
She draped her hands over her chest while she looked at me. I was half turned around. I realized then I was only wearing one of my "sleep tees," a shirt I'd worn down to near transparency. Suddenly I felt exposed. I hadn't expected to see anyone. The shirt was barely enough to cover my crotch and only the top of my ass. That realization kept me from turning on the spot because I knew if I turned around, they were both getting a full view of my ass.
"Hi Robert," I said instead.
"Hi Tina." He smiled softly and spoke with a nonchalance I think was chosen to make me feel less awkward. His tone was like we were all just hanging out and none of us were half dressed.
Bree picked up on that tone. "Thirsty?" she said.
I nodded. "Just getting water."
"Go on ahead, TeeTee," she said.
Dead. She slipped in that nickname. TeeTee. T.T. for Tina the Tease. It was an accusation -- a playful one -- that I did this on purpose. That maybe my choice of shirt wasn't an accident, that I felt super sexy in it. My face felt hot. I hoped Robert didn't notice my blush. I walked toward the kitchenette, suddenly conscious of my braless breasts' every sway under the tee.
"Shake it baby," Bree said.
"Aw, leave her be," Robert said, "Don't fluster her any more than she is."
Ugh. He noticed. And as I looked back I saw his head turned toward me. His eyes had been on my ass. He looked up my body slowly. I tugged at the hem of my shirt to make sure my pussy was covered, which had the effect of tightening across my tits, and highlighting my erect nipples. I knew he could see my brown areolae. He smiled. I looked quickly at Bree, suddenly worried she might think I was enticing her boyfriend.
Bree looked up from where she had been staring at my chest and licked her lower lip, biting it softly. I felt a little electric spark as I imagined that little bite was literally on my nipple.
Fuck. Get the water.
So, I spun quickly back and filled up my glass from the filter jug in the fridge. I used the moment to catch my breath because I was acutely aware that my pussy was now wet. My heart was beating a little faster as I pictured Robert's hairless chest and his strong arms.
I took a deep breath and turned back, walking slowly to keep my girls from swaying. As I looked up Bree was making eye contact with me but Robert was back to kissing her neck and shoulder.
"I'm thirsty," Bree said holding her hand out. "Do you mind if I have a taste?"
Now I knew she was teasing me. Who says, 'taste' about water? But my polite nature drew me over to the couch against my better judgement. Besides, Robert was distracted anyway. Who wouldn't be with Bree's tight body straddling them and her teardrop shaped breasts -- small compared to me but full on her petite frame -- exposed for all to see? I stretched out my hand but Bree didn't reach back. She held her hand up next to her. I had to step right next to the back of the couch to give her the glass, glistening with sweat like she was.
Bree locked eyes with me as she put the glass to her lips, and then she pointedly looked down. I followed her eyes down, down to their laps. Her other hand was gripping his cock out of his open fly. My sharp intake of breath so close to Robert made him turn his head toward me. He couldn't make eye contact but I knew he knew I had seen. Then he surprised me by instead rolling his head back and looking straight up at me.