The First Timer

I haven't written in a while because I've been busy. I'm a grad student, a triathlete, and I work two jobs part time, so as it is I don't sleep much, and I certainly don't have time to go out regularly. So even though I enjoy it, writing is the first thing to go when I'm crunched. Mostly I don't do anything worth writing about (in terms of sex) anyway, unless you want to read about me dancing while doing the dishes in the middle of the night listening to Madonna's "Justify My Love" real quiet so I don't wake my roommates.

Anyway, last week Kale called me. We see each other from time to time, and I still get a tingle when I hear her voice on the phone. But she didn't want to fuck this time. She wanted a favor. "It's ladies' night out," she said. "One of the girls is stuck for a sitter."

"Me? With kids? Seriously, Kale?"

"They'll be in bed when you get there. You'll get paid for doing homework or grading papers or whatever you grad students do that you're always complaining about."

"Eat my ass."

"Purrrrr," she said with a giggle, "is that a yes?"

"Hell no."

But in the end she convinced me. That fucking slut can be persuasive when she's desperate. And the money was considerable, I have to say.

"When is it? And where?"

"Next Friday at eight," and she told me the address.

"That's clear across town. Did you forget I don't have a car?"

"That's easy for you on your bike. I'll meet you there after and drive you home."

"Only if you're not trashed."

"Honestly I'm shocked at the idea. When have you ever known me to do anything to excess?"

That made me laugh. We hung up.

By the time Tuesday came around, I was actually looking forward to it. I had a shitload of work to do, and three or four quiet hours was a godsend. My fixie campus bike has a rack, and I Ioaded that fucker down with books and folders, plus my laptop and other shit in my backpack. Then I bundled up and headed across town.

By the time I got to the address an hour later, my ass was killing me from the extra weight on my back, my toes were numb from the cold biting through my sneakers, and I was in a seriously bad mood. What greeted me at the door did not help my disposition.

As soon as the door opened, I knew I was fucked. This was not a woman dressed for a night out. This was a woman dressed for a night in, wearing fuzzy slippers, flannel pajamas, and hugging herself in her black robe against the cold. Her wavy hair was wet and slick. Her freckled face and soft eyes were bare of any makeup. "Yes?" she said with a perplexed look.

"Let me guess. Wrong night, right?" Fucking perfect.

Then she got it. "Oh no! You're Kelly?"

"That's right."

"Angela was supposed to call you! I'm not going out tonight."

Kale. I'm going to fucking kill her.

"You rode your bike from the campus?"

"No, I unloaded it from my limo parked around the corner and then piled all this shit on it to make myself look pathetic." I said, "Tell Kale thanks a fucking lot." I was supremely pissed, thinking about an hour ride home, plus twenty minutes in the shower to warm up, plus trying to find a quiet place to get three hours of work done on a Friday night, not to mention the three hours of work itself. Suddenly this had become an all-nighter, with an early swim workout and work in the morning.

"Wait. Hold on," she said as I started to turn around. "Let me pay you at least."

"I don't need the money (not exactly true). I need my fucking evening back (very true)."

"You were going to work here," she said, thinking.

"Duh."

"Well why don't you come in then? The kids are asleep and I'm just sitting in here moping behind a book. You can have the entire dining room to yourself for as long as you like."

I looked at her. Sunshine through the clouds. I could call Kale and guilt her into driving me home later. This could work out after all, I thought. "Really?"

"Of course. Absolutely." She stepped aside and motioned with her arm. "Come in, it's freezing out there. You can leave your bike here in the hall."

I hesitated and then followed her into the house, leaning my bike next to the front door. "The dining room is this way," she said. She put a finger to her lips and pointed upstairs. The kids. I nodded and followed her down the hall and through the living room. "I'm Grace," she said. I shook her hand. It was warm and soft to my cold fingers.

It was really a nice place, clean and friendly. She'd done each room and the hall a different color, but each subtle and warm and flowing one to the next. The furnishings looked new, but modest and tasteful, with lots of finished, light colored natural woods and fibers. The cushions and pillows were colorful but tuned to one another like the strings of a piano. The TV was large without being obtrusive. Walking through her house made me like her, and I was embarrassed by how I'd acted. "Listen," I said, "sorry about popping off before. I was way out of line."

Her eyes were glistening when she motioned me into the dining room. "It's okay," she said, forcing a smile. "Will this do?" The table was long and clear, the low back chairs comfortable.

"Perfect." I said slinging my backpack onto a chair. "So why aren't you out with the girls tonight?"

"Oh," she said with a dismissive air, "man trouble. You know how it is."

"Actually I don't."

She frowned at me a moment, then the light clicked on. "Oh! So you're..."

"Gay," I said. "Lesbian."

"Really! But you're so..."

It was like a dance with certain people, this conversation. "Pretty," I said. "Feminine. I know. But there you go." Some people are weird about that bit of information. She just seemed to process it briefly and file it away.

"Well," she said, "You're welcome to work here as long as you like. I'll be in my room reading if you need anything." She indicated the kitchen and bathroom and told me to help myself.

"Thanks," I said. "This is so cool of you."

"The least I could do." She smiled and left me alone.

I stripped down to my tshirt and jeans, booted my laptop and got the rest of my shit off the bike, laying piles around the table and getting down to it. I used to take a little time to get my mind on work, but with a schedule like mine every minute counts and I have learned to immerse myself from the start. My computer beeps at me on the hour, otherwise I'd lose all track of time.

Sometime after the first beep I made a major, breathtaking breakthrough, and shortly after the second beep I finished. Ahead of schedule. I went over everything again and found no mistakes. My math was dead on. I was overjoyed. People, without boring you to tears, let me just say physics can be some seriously exciting and fulfilling shit.

It was just ten-thirty, and I called Kale. I got her voicemail and started gushing like a twelve year old about what I'd done. She was a physics professor and she'd be able to appreciate it. I finished by telling her I needed a ride.

I powered down my laptop. I could hear Grace in the other room stand up, and then she appeared in the doorway. The slippers were gone, and a toe ring winked in the light. The robe was gone as well, and her body under the drapey flannel pajamas was slim and angular. The top button of her pajama top was open, but with no tits to speak of it wasn't especially revealing. Sexy though, that V of upper chest. Her hair was dry now, auburn and thick with wavy curls. Her hands were long and graceful. I'd been too distracted and pissed to notice before, but she was beautiful. "I heard you on the phone," she said. "Is Angela coming?"

I shook my head. "Got her voicemail."

"Ah," she said. "You must be exhausted." She walked towards me.

"Not too bad," I said, watching her. She moved behind me and put her hands on my shoulders. Long fingers, strong hands started massaging my shoulders and neck. I lowered my head with a sigh, wondering where this was going. Man trouble, she'd said. And she'd barely held it together earlier. Trouble. But I could see my nipples poking through my tshirt.

"I did massage in college," she said. "You're strong, but tense." He fingers kneaded the taut stringy muscles of my neck, and then her fingernails raked slowly through my hair. My nipples pulled into even tighter balls and my arms erupted in goosepimples. "When was the last time you had a massage?" Her tone was light, but she sounded nervous.

"Never," I said.

"Would you...would you like one?"

I turned in the chair as far as I could, and looked up at her. Nervous and sweet and lovely and hurting. I put my hands on the bottom button of her pajamas, right at my chin level, and undid it. Pulling the sides apart like drapes, I kissed her softly on the belly. Her skin was smooth under my lips, and she inhaled softly and held it as I kissed each side of her bellybutton, and then each hip above the low waistband. She exhaled and took another breath, holding it, and her hands were in my hair again.

I held her hips and kissed her belly, sliding my hands up her back under the flannel. Her skin was warm and somehow delicate, like rice paper. I ran my hands down her back, over the flannel pajama bottoms to cup and squeeze her ass. She breathed out and in again, and then whispered, "Will you come to bed with me?" I pulled back a bit, looked up at her and nodded.

She guided me into her room and nervously started at the buttons of her pajama top, hunching, her back to me. "Wait," I said. "I want to see you."

Reluctantly, she turned. She'd unbuttoned her top, but held it closed. Then she nervously slid it off her shoulders and let it drop behind her. She was slim, but her breasts were larger than they'd appeared, full and round with dark pink, upturned nipples that were hard and protruding. I went to her and kissed her deeply, pressing my hard nipples into her soft tits. God she was beautiful. I found her tongue with mine, hesitant but sweet. My pussy was warming between my legs, loosening and burning and I could feel the wetness when I moved.

She pushed me away, and I thought 'Uh-oh, too much too fast.' But she only said, "Your shirt." I raised my arms, smiling at her, and she grabbed the hem and lifted it over my head as she watched. Her face flushed as she looked at my little tits. My tits were aching hard, and her looking at them made them even harder. "Can I touch you?" she breathed.

"God yes," I said, surprised at the moaning quality of my voice.

And she did, maybe the first tits she'd ever touched besides her own, her palms warm and her fingers strong. I draped my arms around her neck and closed my eyes, moaning as she gently squeezed and kneaded my little titties. Jolts of pleasure shot between my nipples, my bellybutton, my pussy, my back, my hair, and I moaned. I leaned forward and kissed her again. Her tongue was surer this time. Eager and hungry, and she moaned softly into my mouth.

I gently took her wrists and moved her hands from my tits, and then leaned in and kissed her cleavage, cupping her tits in my hands, caressing gently. I squeezed them against my face, warm and soft as I nuzzled them. I kissed a path to her nipple, and she watched me take it in my mouth, gasping and trembling. I tried to do that thing Kale did to me with her mouth, and Grace arched her back, holding her breath before letting it out in a half moan half cry. She pulled my face hard into her tit, holding her breath again as I sucked and teased her nipple with my lips and tongue. She trembled and jerked, her head back. Then she pushed me away, panting. She looked at me and said breathlessly, "I want to taste you."

I started to offer her my tit, but she shook her head, glancing at the bed. She wanted to eat my pussy. Oh fuck me. With shaking hands, I unbuttoned my jeans and stepped out of them as she peeled down her flannel bottoms.

I got onto the bed and laid back against the pillows. I was positively on fire. Grace had long, tapered legs, and the pubic hair was removed from her bikini area, but fully present on her pussy. It was matted with wetness.

She crawled up from the bottom of the bed, her eyes on mine, and then eased my thighs apart with her palms. She knelt between my legs, gazing at my pussy. "I did that," she breathed. "I made you so wet."

"Yes," I said. My hips rose of their own volition. Wanting to be touched.

"Your pussy," she whispered. Trying the word out on me.

"My pussy," I breathed. "My cunt."

"Your cunt," she said. "You want me to lick your cunt."

"Lick it," I said. "Please." Me begging. It's usually the other way around, but god I wanted that tongue. I was on fucking fire from head to foot and she'd barely touched me.

And she did. She lowered her head and kissed my pussy softly, tenderly. I moaned and squirmed, keeping my legs wide apart for her as she explored, her first venture into another woman's pussy. She was a quick study though, teasing my clit and lips with her mouth, running her hands over my thighs, belly and tits. She kept going, building in intensity then backing off, then building again.

Suddenly I was going to cum, and it was going to be hard and fast. I felt I had to warn her, so I managed to squeak out "I'm cumming!" just before detonation. As I came she slid up my thrashing body, pressing her pussy and tits against me, clinging to me as I shook and groaned beneath her.

As I came down I realized she was crying. I had no idea why, but at the same time I knew exactly. I held her and rubbed her back for a little while as she sobbed softly.

Then I rolled her off me gently onto her back. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't..."

I shushed her with a kiss, then ran my fingers down between her tits, down her belly, to her pussy. I stroked gently at first. She was so wet, her pussy wide open. I teased her with my fingertips, squeezing her clit gently and tugging, stroking the wet folds of her pussy. She moaned and thrust up at my hand, and then she came. An earthquake passed through her thighs and she cried out into our kiss. I kept stroking and caressing her body gently as she came down.

"You make me feel so good," she sighed.

And then, with perfect timing, my phone rang. "Kale," I said. I bounded out of bed and dug it out of my pocket. It was Kale alright, on her way. I started struggling into my clothes.

"Do you have to go?"

I nodded. "I have work tomorrow." She watched me dress. Sneakers, jeans and tshirt on, I crawled over and kissed her, grinning. "But I'll be back."