Do you ever have one of those days where life just catches you off guard? Where you receive something totally from left field? When your best friend comes home after nearly being raped, falls asleep in your arms, wakes up, and then proceeds to eat you out until you come?
Okay, maybe that last one was just me.
I was born Rumiko Takahashi, 19 years old, to a good home and overprotective parents. You know that one in-joke where it's always the sheltered girl who's willing to experiment in college? Yep, it's true. Though I hadn't been with anyone until my roommate, Annette Crawford, I had kissed a willing girl or two during my stay in college.
But none were the same as Annette. Her breasts were luscious globes, always a crowd-pleaser in tight-knit shirts. When she stretched, she would push her chest out, then giggle as everyone- boys and girls- would try to play off their wayward glances. I'll admit, I was slightly jealous(after all, no one was pining for a chance to ogle my breasts), but her personality was magnetic, so to speak. We became fast friends, sharing secrets and helping each other with homework.
It's funny how things change so quickly.
On a Sunday morning, she came home in tears, asked me to hold her. Within a few hours, I was screaming her name on our couch. She walked seductively into my room, a provocative wiggle to her hips, and gave me one final command:
"It's your turn now, Rumiko."
Time stopped. Questions poured into my head. What do I do? What if I fuck up somehow? She read my mind so easily. Holding out her hand, her voice was gentle. "I know your scared. But I trust you."
The next few moments were like a slideshow. Click. I stand. Click. I walk slowly, still stumbling from the orgasm I had moments before. Click. Shaking, I take her hand. Click, then my brain shut off. She pulled me slowly; into the distorted Andy Warhol painting that was my room. I was scared. I was worried. I was apprehensive. We stopped right at the edge of my bed. Using her other hand, she grazed my cheek gently. My heart a drum in my chest, I swallowed the lump n my throat and forced myself to speak. "Annie, I have to be honest, I don't think-" She pressed her lips to mine, and suddenly my mind cleared up. When she broke it, I was speechless. "You think a lot. That always was your problem."
She lowered herself onto my bed, and I brought myself on top of her. My arms fell on each side of her body. She smiled, and it almost made my arms collapse. "No more thinking, Rumi. Act." She brought my head down to hers.
Holy shit, did that kiss turn me on. My mind felt like someone had emptied the recycle bin. No thoughts entered. No thoughts left. My mind turned itself onto auto-pilot.
One of my hands slowly drifted up her side. She didn't resist at all, giving herself to me completely. My touch lingered softly, but only for a moment, on the side of her breasts, taking in the soft feel of her breast. I finally let it fall on her nipple, tugged it gently. A low but audible moan crawled from her lips. I pulled my own back, and kissed slowly to her neck. Anne's legs curled around my waist, pressing our holes together. I released her nipple and instead pinned both of her arms to the bed. "No, I'll be taking care of you." I pressed my lips back to her, only harder. I was becoming much more forceful; my tongue was pushing deeper into her mouth, my fingers pressing into my linen sheets, my mind treading deeper and deeper into unexpected waters.
