Miguel's bimonthly visits scratched her sexual itch, but weren't enough to keep her libido in check. Men hitting on her at bars, dance halls, and at school didn't help matters. She felt temptation's pull, but she also wasn't looking to replace Miguel with someone not so far away. She loved his letters and saw him in her future, but the separation vexed her. She was too young to stay home and her horniness was making her snappy.
Going out with her girlfriends helped as it filled the void Miguel's absence created but it also hurt as it heightened her sexual frustration. She was perpetually horny in need of relief, what she and Miguel now called the Big O.
After talking, dancing, and flirting all night she and her girlfriends piled in a car and rather anticlimatically went to eat or to someone's house for an impromptu sleepover where they talked about the men they met earlier. A few showed phone numbers. There was teasing about the one or two who were gone for an awfully long time and their activities in the parking lot.
She went to bed those nights aching for Miguel's kisses, his mouth on her tits, his talented fingers on her sex, and his penis, covered by his tighty whities, rubbing and thrusting against her genitals. Masturbation made her frustration worse, not better.
She envied her friends who weren't dating someone and their visits to the parking lot. They didn't feel guilty because they didn't have boyfriends. They also weren't having sex, just doing alot of kissing and groping. It seemed like innocent fun. She wondered what they would say if she had a little fun of her own. She was fairly certain they wouldn't say anything. They might even feel relieved as they thought she and Miguel were being way too serious. Besides, they all believed Miguel was something she knew he wasn't, a player.
She was in a quandary. She didn't want to lose Miguel, but the weeks between his visits were too empty. When he called several days before and told her he couldn't come she was disappointed and angry. She tried her best to sound understanding. He was so apologetic. She knew he felt bad. She did her best not to make him feel worse. She told him she would hang out with her girlfriends.
Friday night rolled around. Instead of being with Miguel she spent the evening with her parents. When her cousin invited her out the next night to go dancing she happily said yes. The dance hall they went to was crowded. The band was good and the dance floor big. She wore a long sleeved collared western shirt, jeans, and boots. She really didn't like jeans as she thought they made her butt and thighs too big. She had been an athlete in high school throwing the shot putt, discus, and javelin. She actually broke records in the discus and shot putt. Her power was in her legs and she had spent hundreds of hours in the gym making them stronger. Jeans didn't do justice to her legs or ass.
She didn't wait long before being asked to dance. She was a good dancer and made it a point not to turn anyone down. She thought if they had worked up the courage to ask she should say yes.
On that Saturday one man, a few years older than she, kept asking her to dance. He would leave her alone to dance with others, but about every 3rd or 4th song he was back at her table and they were soon out on the floor. He was a good dancer, nice enough, a little tipsy as he smelled of whiskey. As the evening progressed she wound up dancing exclusively with him.
She found out he had a girlfriend. She told him she had a boyfriend. They were both in long distance relationships. She showed him a picture of Miguel and he a picture of his girlfriend. He was a senior at a private university. He too was wearing western clothes, but confessed he was no cowboy. He just liked country western music.
After dancing to a series of songs she said she needed to make a trip to the restroom. He said he needed to also go. She didn't know how it happened, but instead of letting his hand go at the song's end, she held his hand as they headed to the restrooms. He cleared a path for them.
The line wasn't long. When she finished peeing she wiped herself dry noting she was slick. She felt tugged in two directions, ashamed at being aroused and being drawn to him. She told herself nothing was going to happen because she wouldn't let it. She loved Miguel too much.
Standing in front of the mirror a minute later she admired her reflection as she brushed her hair. She felt flushed. She knew her nipples were hard. She smiled thinking she looked really good wishing Miguel was on the other side of the door. If he was she knew they wouldn't be dancing, but in the back seat of his car making out.
She exited the restroom. He was standing there. He smiled when he saw her. She smiled back. He extended his hand and without thinking she put her hand out. They linked fingers as he pulled her towards him.
"I thought you'd gotten lost," he said.
"No, we have less stalls. That's all."
Jean was very aware of how close she was to him. He was nearly shouting because the music was loud. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She then felt horrible for having such a thought.
"Are you ready to dance some more?"
She answered, "Yes," but he noticed her voice lacked enthusiasm.
"Or do you want to go outside?"
He was staring at her waiting for an answer.
She looked back at him knowing what his invitation meant. She knew she should say no, but she answered, "Yes."
"Come on. I'll lead."
She put her hands on his hips and he worked their way through the crowd. A few minutes later they were outside.
He took her by the hand and said, "My car is over there."
His car looked new. He unlocked the door, opened it, and leaned the seat forward, "There's more room in the back."
She got in. He followed, closing the door behind him.
He turned towards her putting an arm around her.
She wondered if she had made a mistake.
She started to tell him all she wanted to do was talk, to remind him she had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend, but when she opened her mouth to speak his mouth was next to hers.
"Jean," he said, "I know. You've got a boyfriend. I've got a girlfriend. They don't need to know if we do a little fooling around."
He then pressed his mouth to hers. He thrust his tongue in her mouth. She frenched back. Jean was experiencing her first make out session with another man. She told herself it was just one time.
Their first kiss lasted a long time. He wasn't as good a kisser as Miguel. His kisses were all tongue, but instead of being turned off, they made her more excited. She wasn't going to let him touch her breasts, but when he grabbed her right breast and squeezed it she didn't stop him.
She instead kept her eyes closed and her mouth pressed to his. His other hand snaked up her back. She felt him unclasping her bra. Her right hand was playing with his hair. Her left she used to unsnap the buttons of her shirt.
A minute later his hand was under her bra massaging her breast. He was rough. He tugged hard at her nipple causing her to groan mixed parts pleasure and pain.
A few more minutes and his mouth left hers and latched onto her breast. He sucked her right then her left leaving her squirming. She wanted to be petted.
When he unsnapped her jeans and went to lower the zipper she lifted her bottom off of the seat making it easier for him. A few seconds later and his middle finger was inside her panties, parting her labia, using her juices to make it slick, and the pad of his finger was strumming her clitoris.
It didn't take him long to bring her to orgasm. Instead of being satisfied she found herself wanting more. He knew enough she noticed to give her clitoris a break, but his finger stayed between her legs.
He quit sucking her breast and returned to kissing her. Whatever guard she had was down. She had no intention of letting him lower her pants, but when he tugged at them she helped him pull them down. Her legs open as wide as her pants around her boots would allow them he resumed petting her, but with a twist.
He used his middle finger like a cock and penetrated her vagina, something Miguel had never done. She broke from their kiss to tell him to be careful, that she was a virgin, but all that came out was, "Be careful."
"I will."
He expertly fucked her vagina with his finger thrusting in and out of the space not covered by her hymen. Occassionally he would hit her hymen making her wince, but all in all she found what he was doing enjoyable. With the pad of his thumb he massaged her clitoris. She was lifting her pelvis to meet his thrusts.
"You're so wet. I like creamers."
She was close to coming. His comment added to her arousal. It wouldn't be long before he discovered just how creamy she got. His finger made a squishing sound as it pushed in and a slurping sound as it left her. She wondered why she and Miguel hadn't done this. She realized it was because she hadn't let him. She was a horrible girlfriend, cheating on him with someone she just met.
She was going to hell, but what he was doing felt so good. She would go to confession. Miguel would never find out. She was thrusting her hips against him, wishing she was on her back instead of sitting. She noted her orgasms were better when she could let her entire body get stiff as she climaxed.
She found it difficult to keep her eyes open. She had never been stoned, but that's how she felt, drugged. Intoxicated with lust. Her breathing was shallow. She mumbled aloud, "Feels so good. Don't stop. So close."
His voice sounded confident or was it arrogant, "I won't. That's it Jean. Come for me."
At his command, cum she did, grinding her sex against his hand. His thumb slowed down its massage of her clitoris. He kept his finger inside her.
"That was so good," she told him, "I needed that."
He chuckled, "I know how you feel. You can only go so long."
She sat with her knees open wide and her feet close together, her jeans and panties around her boot tops. His hand cupped her sex.
She laughed back. What he was saying was so true, but it didn't assuage her feelings of guilt. She just knew Miguel would never cheat on her. He told her he often masturbated at night before going to sleep dreaming of her. It thrilled her knowing she was the inspiration for his climaxes.
She wondered what time it was and if her friends were looking for her.
She swore he was a mind reader, "Jean, you're not a bad person. You're just lonely and horny. Your boyfriend would understand."
"Does your girlfriend?"
"What she doesn't know can't hurt her. I don't ask her what she does."
"So she cheats."
"I don't know and I don't want to know."
"Miguel doesn't cheat."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
She was killing the moment. He decided it was time to take her mind off of her troubles. He took his free hand and began to gently caress her left breast. Her nipple started to extend. She looked at him. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. She inhaled sharply. Her eyes fluttered ever so briefly.
