Jill.
Jill with the wonderful curves, amazing brown eyes, and wavy hair. Jill with the infectious laugh and all-knowing smile. Jill, possessor of the skilled tongue, nimble fingers, and wicked mouth. Jill, my first love and the first person to break my heart.
I slid my hands under my shirt, over my stomach, and finally cupping my breasts. Twisting and pinching my nipples, I remembered her lips suckling and holding her to me as I stroked her hair. I heard my whimpers on the breeze like I did on that evening so long ago. She stared into my eyes as her hand slid under my skirt.
She discovered my secret immediately and bit my nipple until I screamed, begging her to stop. She did and smiled, her fingers going to my clit. My eyes closed and my breathing slowed, sometimes stopping. Her fingers never stopped and when I started cumming again, she bit my nipple until I screamed and begged her to stop. As soon as I came, she let go of my nipple and watched me shake as I calmed down. She did it again and again and again, until all she had to do was bite my nipple and I came.
That was one of the first of many things she taught me that summer. She made me her slave. A tool for her pleasure. Everything she wanted me to be, I was. I was her whore. I was her lover. I was her friend. I was alive.
I met my husband that fall and Jill became a memory. An oft thought of fantasy as my hands brought my body to life or my husband lay above me, making love to me. After Jill I never had another orgasm from someone else. Only myself.
I heard a branch break and my eyes opened. I saw my neighbor standing beside me, his cock in his hand. I smiled and wiggled out of my shorts, spreading my legs. He reached down and pulled my shirt up over my tits. He began pinching and twisting my nipples with his free hand. My hand rubbed my clit furiously the closer I got to cumming.
