by Kyoko Church
I’m not sure if it happens the 500th time I check my emails and texts that Saturday only to see that he hadn’t sent anything, my heart falling each time. Or if it’s on Sunday morning when I finally give in and break the void with just one text to him that says only, “I’m sorry.” Or if it’s when he texts back with “Give me your address.” Yes, maybe it’s when I punch in my address, hold my breath and click send that I decide I just don’t give a fuck.
I know I waver for a moment when he walks into my place and looks around with appreciation at the little space in the world I’d carved out for myself and tells me that he and his buddy Owen are going to get their own place too, that he just can’t live at home anymore. I admit, when my illicit thoughts clang against the hard fact that this boy lives with his parents it’s with a dissonance that makes me cringe, and of course he lives with his parents — I knew that already. I falter. But then I close my eyes. And jump.
“Take off my bra now,” I tell him steadily.
We’re in my bed and he’s only in jeans and I’m the same now that my bra’s coming off. He manages the clasp well and I stop myself from any comment about it that might seem patronising. He pulls it away and looks at my naked torso and I feel almost stoned with lust as his greedy eyes take me in. He puts his hand up and cups my left breast in his right hand and groans. “Oh god,” he whispers. He reaches with his other hand too and moves to kiss me. There’s already been kissing, so much kissing, I forgot how much kissing there could be before sex becomes the foregone conclusion. But this time his kisses are shaky and unfocused. I can tell he just wants to feel. I pull back and lie on the bed. I take off my jeans so I’m clad only in panties now and his eyes burn trails all over me.
“Just touch me,” I say. And he does.
He stares and stares like he cannot get enough and moves his hands all over my exposed skin. “God,” he murmurs, more to himself. “Your skin is as smooth as my little cousin’s bottom.” Then his eyes fly up to meet mine and he covers them with both hands. “Holy shit, I can’t believe I just said that.”
I giggle and push his hands away, uncovering his face. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweet thing. You’re doing fine.” I put his hands back on me and soon his breathing gets ragged.
“I want to give you pleasure,” he says, using those words again that are my undoing. “I want you to show me how.”
I reach over and take off his glasses, fold them and put them on my nightstand. “I’ll show you my favourite way,” I whisper and I ease off my panties.
He looks down at me where I’ve shaved myself almost completely, just left a little strip. His face flushes and he looks so adorably full of intent. He moves between my legs and I spread myself open for him with my hands, let him see it all. I know I’m wet, wet from all the kissing and touching and anticipation and somehow I don’t feel shy at all, just brash and brazen and wanting him to see. And he does. He looks mesmerised as he lies on his stomach and moves his face down close to me.
“You smell so good,” he breathes, looking up at me from between my legs. “I’ll just lick right here,” he says and gives the tip of my clit a tiny, tentative lick. Bang! The pleasure of that one little caress of his tongue goes all the way through me and I moan.
“Yes,” I say. “Right there is good, sweetie. Very good.”
He does it again then. More tentative little licks with his sweet tongue. “Mmmm…yes, that’s good,” I say. “Nice and slow.” I want to put my head back, close my eyes, but then I’d miss watching him and watching him is so good.
“Should I give it little kisses too?” he asks and I nod because it’s hard to speak. He kisses my clit and god do his full, red lips look good doing that. He gets bolder then, kissing and licking, licking a bit faster, then slower, poking at me a bit with his tongue. I do put my head back then, close my eyes, groan in pleasure. His tongue is wild and has no rhythm to it at all and I don’t fucking care because I like him using me to learn. After a while it’s all I can do not to put my hand on the back of his head and command him to just lick hard and fast, as hard and fast as he can. But I don’t do that. Because his way is delicious in its hesitancy. Ten or fifteen years ago I might have been frustrated, wanting the destination and not appreciating the journey. But now I lie back and give myself over to him and his inexperienced little tongue.
“Does it feel better,” he asks softly, “if I lick you lightly, like this…” and he peppers my burning nub with feather light little flicks that leave me feeling floaty and gaspy. “Or harder ones, like this.” And without further warning he jams his tongue down on me ruthlessly, tonguing fast and hard while I scream out and he stops short with me dangling on the edge, looks up at me, alarmed. “Oh god, did I hurt you?”
“No,” I rasp, panting and shaking. Now my patience has dwindled. “They’re...they’re both very nice, love,” I say, when I can form words. “Let’s do that second one again,” I say, trying not to growl it at him. “But this time, if I start screaming, you just keep going.” I feel like there’s fire in my eyes as I stare at him and see realisation dawn in his. “Okay?” And this time I do growl it.
He lowers his head to do it again but just before he starts he places one then two soft kisses on my little bud all while looking straight up at me and the sweetness of that action combined with the exquisite feel of his lips pursed around my clit pierces into me. Then he goes to work licking me hard and fast. And oh fuck, it does not take me long. I thread the fingers of my right hand through that floppy mess of his hair and hold on tight, I can’t help it, as I scream and writhe on his face, forgetting everything I was thinking about being gentle and patient. “Fucking christ!” I bawl out as his tongue works me over the edge.
But then he keeps going! Oh god, it’s so sensitive and I try to yell stop, to push him away but I can’t make any sounds other than screams and he’s still licking hard and intently, holding me by my thighs to his face, there’s no stopping him and I guess I told him to keep going after all. Soon the sensitivity gives way to another orgasm. It’s upon me before I realise it and it rips through me faster than the first. All I can do is pant and gasp out, Oh god! Oh god! Oh my god!
And thankfully he stops then. He looks up at me timidly and his face is so full of the need for approval I feel my heart break in two for how vulnerable he seems at that moment.
“I wasn’t sure when to stop,” he says. “Was that good?”
I pull him up to me. Gently I put his head to my breasts and stroke his hair, holding him on top of me. “It was so good, Mason love. So good.”
I want his first time inside me, inside any woman, to live up to all the sweet little fantasies he’s had.
Before I engage him in the not so sweet fantasies of mine.
We’re lying side by side now. He still has his jeans on and I have the sheet draped over my naked body. I touch his arm and stare into his eyes. “You’re sure you want to do this? With me?”
“Fuck yeah.”
I giggle. “Are you nervous?” I ask, running a finger lightly up and down the fly of his jeans before pausing to pop open the button. I can see the bulge of his straining member beneath and goddammit it looks to be a tool that is all man, no boy.
“Not really,” he says. “Just excited.” He grins.
“I can tell,” I say, patting his bulge. “Don’t get too excited now,” I tease. “We don’t want things to be over before they begin.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I can go for hours.”
“Can you now?” God, his bravado is adorable. “And how do you know that?”
He looks stricken for a moment. Then stammers, “Well, I…I do with my hand.”
“I see,” I say. I lean into him, kiss him softly and whisper in his ear. “You know that a hot, tight, soaking wet, slippery little pussy like mine is right now will feel very different from your hand.”
“Oh god,�
�� he says and groans. “I…I know!”
“Things might go a little more … quickly,” I say as I ease down his fly.
Holy shit!
The erection that springs out at me is enormous. He gasps as I ring my fist around it and then I gasp too because it is so thick and heavy and hot in my hand.
“My god, Mason. How big are you?” I breathe.
“Nine inches,” he whispers. And I have hit the virginity claiming jackpot.
The idea that this sweet, gawky boy with all of his romantic notions is hiding this monster tool in his briefs is right then the hottest aphrodisiac ever. My pussy clenches at the thought of having him all rammed up hard inside me. But I will myself to be calm.
This is his first time. And greedily, I want it. I want to orchestrate it, conduct it for him, for me. I want to it be slow and savoured. I want his face the first time he feels all the sensations that he’s wondered about and tried to imagine for so long. I want all those first reactions, every gasp, every moan. I want them all. I want them for mine.
He’s uncut and beautiful. I ease his foreskin back and he’s all shiny purple, a ripe plum I long to suck into my mouth. But I’ll save that for another time, as pre-cum is starting to flow from his slit and I sense it’s not my mouth he’s hungry for.
“So eager, my sweet boy,” I say, as I use my thumb to spread some of that delicious looking clear fluid around his head. He moans.
“Please, Laura. Please let me be inside you now,” and his pleading is all the sweeter for the way his voice cracks in the middle.
“Mmm, yes, I want that now too, Mason,” I whisper. I let go of him and he lies back and kicks his jeans and boxers off. His cock looks even huger now that he’s totally naked and it’s juxtaposed against his slim frame. I straddle him and lean over, putting my face close to his and reaching down to grasp his cock. “I’m going to put you inside me now,” I whisper. I watch the look in his eyes as I place the head of him against my slippery wet entrance.
“Oh fuck. You feel so hot.”
“You just lie there and let me move on top of you, okay?” I study his face and will myself to remember every moment, to savour every bit.
“Okay,” he says.
I’m so wet from the two orgasms I had with his mouth that almost instantly my pussy coats his huge head with slipperiness. I stay leaning over him, staring at him as I ease more of him into me. He’s so fucking big, I am stretched so open and it feels amazing but I am concentrating on his face. He keeps closing his eyes and groaning but he’s fighting to keep them open. I’m sliding down on him so slowly and he looks like he’s in a tortured bliss. Finally I feel the head of him knock the back of my pussy with that beautiful dull ache. He’s all the way in and I lean down to kiss him and listen to him breathe.
“Oh fuck,” he says. “You’re so tight. So wet.”
I kiss his cute snub nose and sit up on him, relishing the feeling of him all lodged deep in me, full and hard and hot. He looks up at me and I take his hands and move them up my torso and onto my breasts.
“Oh my god!” he says. “You,” he whispers, breathing hard even though I haven’t moved on him yet, “You look so amazing on me like that.”
I can’t help but feel sexy and powerful and feminine. I loll my head back and feel my hair brush against my back, his hands on my tits, as I start to move on him, slowly, up and down on his thick shaft.
“Is that good, baby?” I whisper, looking down at him again.
“God, yes,” he hisses out. But his hips are bucking up at me, wanting more.
“Aw, you want it faster, horny boy?”
“Please!” He sounds desperate.
“Okay,” I say, with a wicked grin.
I pull his hands off me, rise up on my knees and bounce up and down on his cock in a smooth fast rhythm. God, does he feel amazing pounding into me like that.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!” he shouts. And immediately I stop.
“What happened to “I can last for hours”?” I say, unable to wipe the huge grin off my face.
“Oh please,” he moans, ignoring my question. “Is it okay if I do it inside you?”
“It’s okay, it’s safe,” I whisper, my insides flipping over his fervour, the level of his need. “But let’s do it this way.” I put my hand behind his back, motioning for him to sit up and we shimmy up the bed so his back rests against my head board and I’m still astride him. I press myself against him, lean down and smash my breasts into his pale, hairless chest, hold him and wriggle myself around in his lap, clenching him with my pussy muscles.
“Oh god, how are you doing that?” he gasps. “What are you doing?”
“Just holding you,” I whisper into his ear. Then I clasp his head to my breasts and start to move.
He wraps his arms around me and moans. He starts thrusting his hips up into me and I meet him, pushing down to him each time, creating a more intense friction.
“Is it good Mason, baby?” I look down and kiss those sweet red lips. “Do you like having your cock buried deep inside my tight little slit?” I breathe.
“Oh my god,” he whispers and his eyes widen bright and shiny with lust. My lascivious words have pushed him to the brink.
“That’s it,” I say and I lean back a bit so I can watch him. Then I clamp my pussy around him tight as I can, preparing to relish the moment of his body’s surrender to mine. “Cum for me.” And I pump myself up and down on him.
His breath comes out in a gasp and I can feel his huge pole go rigid inside me, ready to blow. He lets out a strangled grunt and explodes. His hands grasp at me as I ride his orgasm out with him, savouring the feeling of pulling his cum out of him with my body.
“Oh god, I love being inside you,” he murmurs, his lips against the swell of my breast, his cock still inside me, half hard now. He pulls back to look at me. “I love our bodies moving together,” he says. “I love …”
And suddenly my heart rate spikes and my stomach is in my throat because I know exactly what he’s going to say. His eyes are saying it before his mouth does.
“Mason, don’t,” I say.
“…you.”
Oh shit.
My buzzer goes and suddenly Jack’s voice comes floating in from the front door speaker.
“Laur, it’s me. Buzz me in?”
Oh holy shit.
Jack walks in to my apartment carrying two Styrofoam containers with steam coming out of holes in the top.
“Soup,” he says as I eye them, my brain spinning. “Chicken,” he adds.
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to constantly look back at my bedroom door.
I remember what I’ve told him and I cough, a little half-heartedly.
“How’re you doing?” he asks, setting the containers down on the table and going for bowls.
“Terrible,” I say, looking on helplessly as he pulls the bowls out of the cupboard. I cough again.
“You do look flushed,” he says.
We both sit down. He looks at me. I look at the soup containers.
“Hey,” he says, reaching across the table for my hands. “I know I’ve been a little … pre-occupied lately. But are we okay?”
Are we?
“I’m just really not feeling well, Jack. Do we have to talk about this now? I didn’t know you were coming. I must look like a mess.”
He chuckles and reaches for my hair. “I like your bedhead.” But without thinking I cringe and pull back.
He frowns. Then gets up. “Well okay. I guess I’ll leave you with the soup.”
“Really, thanks Jack. That was sweet,” I’m saying, but as he approaches the door he sees Mason’s Converse near the couch. My eyes follow his gaze and something heavy drops into my gut.
He whirls around to look at me and his eyes are filled with disgust. He looks briefly at my
closed bedroom door and for a horrible moment I think he’s going to go in there.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits. I’m rooted to my spot, cowering. I want to disappear. The look in his eyes makes me want to tear my skin from my bones.
“I can’t— I can’t even be in the same room with you.”
He throws open my apartment door and stalks out.
Then I really hole up in my apartment. I send out a mass email to my clients to say I’m sick. I shut down my laptop and stuff it under the couch. I turn off my cell phone and unplug the land line. I feel compelled to rip out every mode of communication to create my fortress of solitude.
Thoughts swirl around in my head. About Jack. About Mason. For a moment I convinced myself that I wanted to give something special to Mason, something to cherish. But really, Jack’s right. I’m just a disgusting old pervert. Come on, my devil jeers at me. You know what you wanted to make him do, the fantasies you had. He’s just a sweet boy with even sweeter ideas. But you know what you wanted to do to him.
I am a horrible, horrible person. I want to extract myself, to quarantine myself from society.
But on the second day of my self-imposed exile my buzzer rings. That I could not shut off. But I can ignore it. Which I do. The first six times. Then it starts getting a little harder to ignore. The eighth time it buzzes Mason’s voice comes through.
“Laura. It’s Mason. Please let me up. You won’t answer your phone or your emails. Please.” There’s a pause. “We can’t do what we did and then you just ignore me.” Oh god. Stop talking! What if a neighbour hears? “I’m not going away. I can stand here all day and press this thing.”
So I let him up.
He stands there in my living room in his long denim shorts and his white tee, as skinny and awkward as ever. I am struck again by how young he looks and I mentally berate myself for the millionth time.
“Why won’t you speak to me?” he says. “I’m sorry about Jack, Laura, but please, won’t you at least talk to me?