Young Zoe

Tears of relief and joy still streaming down her face, I carried Zoe from the hot tub back into the house. She draped her arms around my neck, watching my face the entire way.

Her eyes—the way she looked at me as I carried her—told me everything. First, she was incandescently happy. Second, she loved me.

No, I thought, glancing again. Maybe not love. Love suggests equality.

Her eyes took me in with a kind of awe.

She idolized me.

Strange, I thought. She had just given her first blowjob. It hadn't been the disaster I expected. It had been great. Not just great. It had been incredibly beautiful. Anyways, she just did this amazing thing for me, so shouldn't I have been the one fawning over her?

Zoe let me wrap her in her new bathrobe and then set her down on one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

She watched while I took out chocolate chip ice cream and big chocolate chip cookies. I made her an ice cream cookie sandwich.

In a way, I realized, I was fawning over her.

She ate with gusto, and we sat at the table and talked about music. She grew so excited that she ran to get her phone, yelling from the stairs that I "had to hear this." When she raced back down, she made me show her how to play it through the family room speakers.

When it began, I hesitated.

Zoe watched me closely.

I turned to her, confused.

She unfurled a big, beautiful smile.

This was a song from sometime in the 1940s or 50s. It was a slow love song, sung by a woman, accompanied by a big brass band, and it was called "You Belong to Me."

I gave her nodding approval.

Zoe swayed in her chair.

Her eyes opened suddenly when I took her hand and raised her from the chair. Escorting her into the family room, we danced.

She smiled as we swayed; it was slow and sexy—more like lovemaking than dancing.

When the singer and the band ushered the music to its conclusion, Zoe drew me into a tight hug, squeezing her body into mine until the song ended.

I didn't expect it when I took her to dance, but I had started a little game. We took turns choosing a song on her phone. Sometimes we just listened; sometimes we danced.

Most of her favorites were more contemporary pop numbers, but there were a few from my generation and several oldies. I was surprised to admit that I liked her taste in music.

I had not expected to.

After the last song, I suggested we watch a movie.

She agreed and asked if we could watch in bed together.

"Yeah, but it's your turn to pick the movie," I told her.

Half an hour later, we were both ready for bed and under the covers. She held the remote control in her hand and began asking me about movies I liked. After narrowing choices down, she began uncovering which ones she knew that I had already seen.

She settled on "True Grit"—the newer remake.

A western! I could not have been more surprised by her choice. I hadn't seen either of the versions, and Zoe explained it was one of her favorites.

It was damn good. Great, in certain parts. Better even than the movie was that Zoe was a perfect movie partner. She only spoke at appropriate moments, and what she said was always an interesting perspective.

She peppered me with questions during the credits and seemed pleased by my responses. Raising the remote, she shut off the television, and the room was suddenly and almost shockingly dark and quiet.

I was in bed with her, finally. The prospect excited me.

"When did you know you liked me?" she whispered.

After a moment's thought, I said, "I was attracted to you the first time you came over to the house, but that's different. Like you? I suppose it was when we talked about Great Gatsby on the phone."

She smiled, "I liked that, too."

"You?"

She laughed and said, "I knew I liked you when you carried me up here and took care of my foot. I remember laying on this bed, watching you and hoping that you would lean down and kiss me."

I touched her bare shoulder.

She went on. "You rubbed my leg, and your touch was strong but gentle, and I never wanted you to stop."

"I loved seeing you on my bed in just your swimsuit."

It was too dark to see her face, but I sensed her smiling when she asked, "What part of my body are you most attracted to?"

"Everything. What's not to like?"

"No, come on, pick one thing."

"Your face—your eyes, your cheeks and lips...."

"No. My body. Part of my body."

"Wait," I said. Rolling away from her, I turned on my reading lamp. "I need to see you." When I found a comfortable spot beside her, I answered, "Different parts of you at different times. Your breasts are amazing, and there are times when they just paralyze me with lust."

She laughed. "Paralyze with lust—I like that."

"But," I went on, "most of the time it's your booty that turns me on."

"I kind of thought so. Are you an 'ass man?'"

"More of a leg man until met you. Your ass made me one."

It was at this exact moment that the idea came to me. I knew how I could create an ending to our relationship.

Earlier in the day, I began wondering if, by making an obnoxious sexual move or request, I might get her to be upset enough to want to end things.

At the time, I wondered about trying to fuck her, but that was out of the question. I had already promised her I wouldn't, not until she was ready. In reality, this made it the perfect candidate, but I didn't like the idea of going back on my word. Plus, what if she let me?

I also considered suggesting a three-way—asking her to invite one of her cute friends over. When she said no—and I was pretty convinced she would—then I could throw my hands up and say it was a deal-breaker. Game over. I'm out. I win.

The problem with that scenario was that it suggested my feelings for her were never real. I had gone a long way to make her think they were. Hell, I felt like I even fooled myself a little bit. No, if I asked her to bring another girl over for a three-way, then everything before it became a lie. It would break her heart. All the confidence she had built up would crumble down. I couldn't do that to the kid.

Finally, I thought about suggesting some kinky stuff—leather and a whip or something. Pissing, hell, I didn't know. Those things might work, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wasn't into the weird, kinky stuff. I didn't think I could sell it to her that I wanted those things.

But, right there in bed with her, I knew what would work.

I could try to fuck Zoe's ass. Vaginal sex still alarmed her; anal would be terrifying by comparison. She would stop me; I would complain, say she's not sexually mature enough, and there would be the end of it.

Laying beside her, I became more and more convinced that I should do it. My heartbeat accelerated. I could almost feel it knocking against my ribcage. My stomach fluttered. My muscles felt light and quick.

Not tonight, I thought, but soon. Tonight, I would lay the groundwork. I planned to start with touches and escalate from there. At some point as things ramped up, she would stop me, but I didn't plan on complaining tonight. I just needed to show my desire so that when the time came to bring our relationship to an end, it wouldn't be a massive surprise to her.

I glanced at Zoe, and she was watching me with interest. A pang of sadness twisted at my guts. She was a good kid—smart, fun, and very cute. I would miss her. Hell, I liked her—a lot.

I'm glad I don't have to break her heart tonight, I thought.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Your beautiful booty. Roll onto your tummy." Thinking about her ass had made my cock like thick iron. I needed to see it.

She rolled, and I threw the sheets and blankets down to the foot of the bed.

Zoe was wearing a white tank-top over the red, almost-thong lace panties I had purchased for her. I pulled her close to me, and then, alternating between the thin strap on each hip, I tugged Zoe's panties down over her ass a few inches at a time. It was like the slow, careful unwrapping of a gift I knew I was going to love.

The two hemispheres began to appear like peach-tan hills under the light from the lamp. I tugged the waistband several inches up and away from those hilltops and then let it snap back. Nothing painful to her, of course, but I got to see her soft flesh absorb the light strike. I got to hear the slap of it against her skin. I got to see how, at the widest, tightest point for the elastic, the curve of her ass pushed against it. I tugged the panties the rest of the way off.

There it was. Why, I wondered, was it so enthralling?

Laying on my side a few inches from her hip, I placed my hand on the small of her back under her shirt. Letting my fingertips graze her skin, I followed the slope up toward her shoulder blades, and then I followed it back down to the lowest point. With my heart surging in my chest, I went further down, watching how my fingers followed the impossibly curvy arc up and over the two globes, and then down a convex slope to the top of her thighs.

There are, I thought, female athletes—not distance runners or rangy volleyball players, but sprinters, hurdlers, and jumpers—who would kill for an ass like this. There was so much potential here to turn this taut baby fat into explosive, feminine muscle.

I took one hemisphere in hand and squeezed it through my fingers like checking the fabric and texture of a soft cushion. A deep groan rumbled out of me.

Instantly, I straddled her legs and began a deep massage of the entire region, from her lower back to the tops of her thighs. My eyes fixed upon the dark line where the two halves met. Seizing both cheeks, I kneaded them, exposing for the briefest flash her teensy pink puncture.

Zoe moaned under the caressing, kneading, squeezing labor of my hands and fingers.

I pulled my erection out the hole of my boxers and, leaning on one hand, pressed the tip against the flesh of her ass. I dragged it over the crease from one side to the other and back again.

Zoe giggled.

I drew the tip from the top of one thigh up and over the glorious rise of her ass to her back, and then I did the other side.

With my heart thumping hard in my chest, I placed the head of my cock right in the middle—at the top of her thighs in the space where her legs met. At a creeping pace, I glided the tip along the dark line, lending it just enough strength to divide the two sides and allow the tip's slow passage through the canal.

Zoe held her breath as it passed threateningly close to her anus.

She let the breath out when it cleared the area.

I let myself back down on my knees, and I spread Zoe's legs, moving between. I laid on my belly, seeing the pristine flesh of her pussy. Scooting closer, I placed my hands on her ass with my face mere inches away from it. Then, I leaned close and kissed one of the fleshy bulbs.

The texture thrilled me, and I continued kissing her there, letting my tongue and lips wander, feel, and taste while I squeezed the other half in my fingers.

The skin tasted like, well, skin, but I couldn't help but think there was something else there—some glimmer of another flavor.

My gosh, I thought, what candy am I going to taste here?

I switched sides. My cock flexed when my lips pressed against her.

Satisfied with the attention I had given to the two beautiful halves, I moved to the centerline. Clutching each globe in my hands, I bent down and kissed the place where her flesh curved down to the dark line, once kiss on each side. Then I kissed the middle. Moving lower, I stopped where my mouth hung directly over the crevasse where, just below, lurked Zoe's anus. I kissed the spot.

I waited for her to protest or to ask me to stop.

Nothing.

I squeezed the two halves, bringing the pink spot into view.

Inching closer, I kissed one side and the other, never once making direct contact with the tight ring, but on its immediate periphery.

Why, I asked myself, wasn't she stopping me? But, don't do it, Zoe. Please let me.

I released one of the bulbous cheeks, sliding my hand under my chest. At the same time, I opened her ass with my other thumb and licked the tender flesh that rose sharply up from the crinkled nexus toward the curvaceous peak of one of her beautiful halves. As my tongue crested the mound, the tips of my index and middle fingers found her clit and began to rub.

I licked her again in the same way, feeling her fluids lubricate my fingertips.

That taste. It was there. The fuck was that?

And, again I licked, still avoiding direct contact with her anus. This time I began pushing my middle finger inside her pussy while my tongue slid up her ass. I matched the pace such that by the time my mouth had reached the hilltop, my finger was fully ensconced.

Zoe moaned.

I kissed my way back down toward her little hole while my digit, always with downward pressure on her upper vaginal wall, glided back and forth.

I withdrew my middle finger and replaced it with my index. Her fluid coated and lubricated it instantly. Then, I pulled it out and extended the two fingers together. Placing the tips just between her labia, I stopped completely.

This was it.

Zoe muttered, "Please." Her hips gyrated, gathering the first knuckle of both inside of her pussy.

Re-gripping her ass, I drew her open with my thumb and dipped down towards the tiny hole, my tongue completely unfurled. The moment it made contact, I drove the two fingers inside Zoe's pussy.

She gasped.

The flat of my tongue towed over Zoe's asshole, and I drew back. The smell of her sex filled the air. I tasted skin—dry and almost flavorless. Whether from the rich aroma of her pussy in my nostrils or from some bit of her fluids having spread to the area, I also tasted Zoe's vagina there on her anus.

But, there was something else, I realized. Something faint, but sweet—I recognized the taste.

With my fingers plunging in and out of her, I applied my tongue to her tight pink ring again.

Bubblegum. Zoe's ass tasted like bubblegum to me.

I might have started laughing if I hadn't been so incredibly hard and horny.

It was not overpowering, just the tiniest tinge of flavor. Even so, how in the fuck, I asked myself, is that possible? I need to see somebody about this.

Putting the matter aside, I licked her asshole again, and after it passed over, I lightly traced the circumference of it with the tip of my tongue. Starting in a wide circle, I rolled around it, spiraling inwards until the tip stopped in the small depression that led into her body. I wiggled it against the knot-like hole.

Zoe wasn't stopping me. She was allowing this—hell, enjoying it from the sounds she made. The thought thrilled me: my teenage girlfriend lets me eat her fucking perfect ass.

A reckless excitement swept through me. The surrender of it. The trust she was showing me. The yielding of her body to my desires. I felt like a man suddenly realizing that he'd been bequeathed an island in the Caribbean and several million dollars.

With an enthusiasm that, prior to meeting Zoe, I never would have understood, I buried my face between the fat globes of Zoe's ass and let my tongue frolic upon her. My thrusting fingers undulated inside her pussy with abandon.

Two minutes later, Zoe climaxed.

Not giving her time to recover, I rolled her onto her back and channeled this new energy into eating her pussy.

Zoe cried out.

I snaked my pussy-lubricated middle finger underneath my chin between Zoe's legs. Placing the tip of that finger on her asshole, I commenced a slow, gentle massage. Her flesh down there softened for me and became pliable.

I pursed my lips on Zoe's clit and sucked on it while my tongue danced gently upon the little nub. Then, when Zoe gave voice to her mounting pleasure, I urged the finger inside of her ass to the first knuckle and beyond.

As the second knuckle approached the entrance, I doubled the strength and vitality of my charge on Zoe's pussy. The finger passed into her body, and she hollered at the ceiling of my bedroom.

When the digit could go no further, I drew it back and began fucking her ass with it. I pushed it inside her with the same motion my hips would impart to my cock—a kind of gyration where the force and speed mounted at the deepest point and ebbed on the withdrawal.

Her body began to push against mine, and she drew heavy gasps of air. Glancing up, her face glowed with a sheen of perspiration. Her eyes and mouth looked strained in what seemed a pleasure so acute as to be almost painful. The deep draughts of air exploded from her in long, airy moans. Each built upon the last until, quite suddenly, her hands seized my head and hauled my face into her pussy so tightly I struggled to breathe.

Then, she began to scream her ecstasy. The sound was so sweet I didn't mind holding my breath. I hilted my finger in her ass and rode out the convulsive energy of her climax.

Her hips raised from the bed. I held her up with my free hand, snatching gulps of air through my nostrils or my mouth as our relative positions allowed. My tongue grew tired as her orgasm continued.

I had never known one to last this long.

Just when I decided to pull back and give my mouth a rest, her cries gave way to moans and then to airy sighs. More of her body weight relaxed into my hand. I drew my finger from her ass and panted to catch my breath.

At that moment, dizzy from lack of oxygen and supercharged by her beautiful climax, the urge to fuck had never been so visceral in me. My hips and legs trembled with energy—they needed to thrust. My cock pulsed. The tip grew purple and shiny with each contraction. It felt like the rigidity of the shaft extended much deeper than the base. It wasn't some post attached to my body; it was a column of taut, itching muscle that grew from somewhere deep inside me—the very core of my body, and it hungered for a connection. It wasn't starving for a blowjob or a handjob or anything that might be done to it.

No, my cock needed to be on the offensive.

As I lowered her hips back toward the mattress, I flipped her. She rolled easily, and I helped her land on her knees, ass up.

I stared at her pussy and cursed. Desire churned in me. That, I thought, is what I need. It's right fucking there, and fuck me, it's perfect. Pink. Wet. So soft and tight. Hot. I've got to fuck her right now.

Right fucking now.

I grabbed my cock and rose on my knees behind her. I squeezed her ass greedily.

But, my promise!

Unleashing a torrent of silent curses in my mind, I sat back on my heels. Seething and storming with frustration, I thought, I should never have made that promise to Zoe. I knew better; I knew how to negotiate, create wiggle room, and leave matters doubtful.

The anger felt good. It was something, at least; it scratched the itch in its way.

I glanced at my hand, still resting on Zoe's ass, still sporadically clutching the flesh. Watching my fingers squeeze, Zoe's asshole peeked out.

Fuck it, I'll do it now, I decided. I'll try to fuck her ass.

She'll tell me no, I knew, but I'll wait until I drive her back to her car in the morning to say her refusal spoiled our relationship, and it was over between us. I'll tell her how I thought things over in the night.

I rose behind her again. This time, I pried her apart with my thumb and moved my cock into position. The lubrication was in my nightstand—a small tube of greasy skin-care lotion. Before that, I wanted to see the parts together. The shaft throbbed in my hand; I watched the head inch closer to Zoe's anus.

Closer.

It touched her, gently bouncing against the taut skin.

She didn't react.

I pushed against her with more energy, and I watched her anus wink and seal shut.

I drew back to listen and watch.

I heard her lungs scooping gulps of air. I watched her back undulate, and then her body seemed to hunker down, settling in expectation. I heard her snatch another breath and hold it. Then, almost imperceptibly, her ass pushed toward me.