Hot Georgia Rein

by Martha Sweeney

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said. “The front is locked and the blinds are down. No one can see us in here.”

  “Where?” I inquired, confused by the items all around us.

  “Well, I thought this would be fitting, you know, since you have a boyfriend and all,” Momma commented.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I reminded.

  “You and Henry are definitely dating. He’s your boyfriend,” Momma countered.

  “He is not,” I replied, wiping my sweaty hands on my pants.

  “Do you two kiss?” Momma pried.

  “Yes,” I answered nervously as the older woman stared at us.

  “Do you two hang out alone?” Momma checked.

  “Sometimes, but we’ve always been like….”

  “He’s definitely your boyfriend,” the woman confirmed. “Things always change after the first kiss…especially if he keeps kissing you.”

  I blushed, uncomfortable with a stranger knowing my business.

  “Don’t be shy,” the lady said. “Your Momma just wants to help a little.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “Boys…and girls…have certain desires and needs when they hit your age,” Momma began. “Some a little sooner, some a little later, but it’s a natural desire that the body requests.”

  My eyebrows pinched together, as I’m confused by her statement.

  “I’m not saying that I’m encouraging it happening, but….”

  “It?” I interrupted my mother. “What is it?”

  “Sex,” the woman blurted out.

  “Oh, my God, Momma,” I shouted, covering my ears with my hands. “Ew. I don’t want to talk about that with you.”

  Momma yanked my arms down. “I know they sure as hell didn’t discuss it with you in school. I know you’re a smart girl and have seen enough on television and movies to know the gist, but I want you to be prepared.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I declared, shaking my head. “This is so uncomfortable. Henry and I aren’t planning on having sex. We’re just seventeen.”

  “Many kids have sex as young as fourteen,” the woman announced.

  “What? Ew. Gross,” I exclaimed, wishing I could un-hear what she just said.

  “It’s true,” Momma confirmed. “I was fifteen.”

  “Oh, my God, Momma,” I don’t want to know that. I’m gonna feel weird every time I look a Papa.”

  “Why?” Momma asked. “He knows.”

  “Ew!” I yelled. “Please don’t tell me it was Papa who….”

  “Nope,” Momma stated proudly. “It was a different boy. And, I’m not ashamed for you to know. I’d rather you be prepared and have a pleasant experience than most girls their first time.”

  “I didn’t enjoy my first time,” the lady stated. “I wanted to get it over with. It took quite a few years for me to know how to use my body let alone the kind of pleasure I liked and didn’t.”

  “I’m not hearing this,” I declared, covering my ears again. “I wanna go home. Please, let’s go home, Momma. Please!”

  “Not until we get something,” Momma replied.

  “What? What do you need to get?” I asked. “Just get it and let’s go.”

  “We can’t,” Momma informed. “You need to pick it out.”

  “Pick what out?” I asked, shocked by her words.

  “Pick out your own tool,” she explained.

  “What?” I gasped. My eyes darted around to the different items in the room and reality started to hit me. “Where are we?”

  “An adult shop,” Momma answered calmly.

  “Why?” I questioned.

  “Like I said, to get your own tool,” she reminded.

  “Tool?” I gulped.

  “Vibrator most likely,” the woman stated. “It’s the best start for any girl who doesn’t know much about her body and how to satisfy herself.”

  “Satisfy myself?” I choked.

  “You’re a woman, Ivy,” Momma said. “You have been for a few years now. I know that your body is having urges. I put it off as long as I could. It’s fitting that we do this now since you and Henry are dating.”

  “Urges,” I repeated, shocked by what I’m hearing. “Dating?” I gulped.

  I knew that Momma and I could always talk about things, but we’ve never discussed sex let alone all the other things she’s already mentioned and I feared she would add to the list. I prayed that I was only dreaming, but I knew that I wasn’t.

  I stopped speaking after that, letting Momma and the woman to just talk and explain whatever they wanted, knowing that there was no way to escape. Was I curious about everything in the shop? Of course, I was. I just didn’t expect to explore with my Momma.

  Back at the hotel room, Momma sat me down and I knew the conversation wasn’t over by the look on her face. I just remained on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to say all that she had to say.

  “I know you don’t feel comfortable talking about this,” Momma stated. “So, I’m just going to talk…say my piece and then we don’t ever have to talk about this again…unless you want to, okay?”

  I nodded and let my gaze fall to the sheets beneath me.

  “Despite what most of society will tell you, the urges your body has…or will have,” she changed her words slightly when I looked back up at her. “I know…because I was your age once too, you know.”

  I bobbed my head again though I didn’t really want to acknowledge what was happening.

  “Boys usually have the urges more intensely than girls…acting on them more quickly,” Momma continues. “Some girls don’t recognize their own urges as much because of how society makes them feel ashamed of their body or because it takes time for us to know what we like in order for it to be as pleasurable as it is for the man.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked suddenly, more curious.

  “Most men, especially inexperienced men, don’t last long and don’t know that it takes a woman a while until she has an orgasm,” Momma explained. “I don’t want to assume that Henry is also a virgin, but I’m certain he might be.”

  “Momma,” I chided.

  “I know that you’re a virgin and just want you to feel confident when it’s your first time and every time after that,” she defended. “The first time is painful for most girls which makes us avoid it. It’s not painful for the man.”

  “How do you know I’m a virgin?” I return.

  Momma smiles. “By how you’re acting.”

  “How do you know I’m not trying to pretend that I haven’t?” I pry.

  “A woman who’s had sex, plenty of it, knows when another woman has or hasn’t had it,” Momma claims.

  My cheeks redden and I look away, completely uncomfortable.

  I let Momma continue talking, sharing her information and advice with me. She explained that regardless of whether Henry is my first that I should know my body and to know what it feels like to orgasm. That there’s a lot of expectations for a girl’s first time, and unless the man is experienced, it won’t be near as fun or satisfying for her.

  As the memory of seeing Henry again comes back around, a shiver runs down my spine. I check the clock and notice that it’s just after midnight. I’m wide awake, horny, and debating on doing something I know that I shouldn’t do.

  Just a few seconds later, I grab my silk robe, my cowboy boots and keys, and head down to Momma’s truck. I drive over to Henry’s, stopping just before the driveway, debating on whether or not to knock on his door this late at night.

  The next thing I know, my hands turn the wheel as my foot presses down on the gas pedal. I park the truck, turning off the engine, just in front of the dark house and think twice about why I’m here.

  An odd sound in the distance catches my attention, causing my body to turn in its direction. A small stream of light stretches over the ground and my eyes spot the source. Slowly making my way to the barn, I peer in through the cracks in the gi
ant wood boards to investigate. My eyes widen when I see a half naked Henry with his back to me. His muscles are extremely tense as he wields a large chisel across a huge stump of wood.

  My legs take me inside, and despite how quiet I was trying to be, I miscalculate the distance between me and the large, metal toolbox. Several of the items on top of it fall, clanging as they bounce down each protruding drawer. When they finally settle on the ground, that’s when my eyes lift to see if my intrusion was heard.

  “Hey,” Henry greats with a sexy smile.

  “Hey,” I answer nervously. “I’m….I’m sorry.” I squat down and start to clean up my mess.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Henry offers, rushing toward me.

  Our hands connect when they reach for the same wrench. His eyes fall from mine, to my lips, and then down to my bare legs.

  “Sorry,” I repeat, taking my robe and wrapping my body with it.

  “They’re just tools,” he claims. “No harm done.”

  8 Henry

  My body jolts the second I hear a noise behind me, thinking that a wild animal has gotten into the barn again. I chide myself for not getting a dog sooner until my gaze falls upon Ivy. I take her in for a few seconds, noticing how she’s barely wearing anything and that I can practically see through her thin shorts and top.

  I clutch the chisel in my hand, fighting off my urges. “Hey,” I greet.

  “Hey,” she answers, pausing for a few seconds to look at me. “I’m…I’m sorry.” Ivy lowers to the ground, grabbing a tool one at a time.

  When her legs shift where they practically give me a full view up her shorts, I rush toward her. “Don’t worry about it,” I reply, getting as close to her as possible.

  We reach for the same item and our hands connect. The same electric pulse shoots through me again as it did on the roof. Our eyes meet, but mine drop to her mouth, then her breasts, before pausing on her legs. I will myself to stop staring, but I can’t help it.

  “Sorry,” she repeats, recapturing my attention.

  “They’re just tools,” I state oddly. “No harm done.”

  “Sorry,” Ivy says again nervously.

  I finish grabbing the rest of the tools off the ground as she just stares at me. Ivy stands when I do, keeping her eyes on my face. I don’t look away from her as I place the last few things on top of the large, rolling tool box. One or two fall again, but I don’t bother to look even though Ivy does.

  She starts to bend down and get them.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say.

  She stops mid bend and I catch a glimpse of her cleavage. Blood rushes to my cock and I fight to maintain control over my body.

  “Is it weird that I came?” she blurts suddenly, returning upright.

  The idea of her orgasming pops into my head from her statement. Shrugging it off, I barely mutter, "No."

  “Why are you up so late?” she asks, trying to redirect the oddness between us. Ivy walks toward the area where I was working, not bothering to wait for me to respond.

  “Just some stuff I do,” I share, following her closely, desperate to get another whiff of her scent.

  “Stuff?” she pushes, walking around my latest creation. “Wow, Henry. This…this is amazing.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I return, not bothering to look away from her.

  “Guess?” she giggles. “It is. It’s magnificent.”

  “You are,” I say under my breath.

  “What?” she searches.

  “Nothing,” I deny.

  Ivy’s face alters when she sees another piece I’ve made—one that resembles her. She looks back at me with awe in her eyes and that’s when my brain shuts off and my body moves to her. My hands take the sides of her face and my mouth claims hers. Ivy doesn’t pull away. Instead, her tiny, soft hands cover mine and her tongue is the first one to breach the crack between our lips.

  I spin us, grabbing a hold of her ass, and plant her between me and the closest beam. Ivy’s arms wrap around my neck, tightening when I press my groin harder into hers.

  I get lost in her. I get lost in us. This is us. This has always been us, especially once we understood our own bodies and each other’s. Nothing has changed. Our desires, our needs, our souls are still one.

  Not liking the taste of the wood chips on her skin, I carry Ivy to the shower. I don’t bother to put her down when I turn on the water or get in. Pressing her against the wall, our hands frantically free her from her robe. I pause for just a few seconds to appreciate the sight of her erect nipples poking through the thin, wet fabric of her top.

  As eager as I am to be buried deep inside her, I try desperately to take my time, wanting to make up for lost time and needing as much confidence to realize that I’m not dreaming. Ivy holds on around my neck and waist as I desperately remove the jeans that cling to my skin. When I can’t get them past my ankles, I stop bothering a slide myself inside her, losing all patience.

  Ivy moans in my ear, causing me to almost finish on the spot. Besides the fact that it’s been years since I’ve been inside her, it’s been over a year since I’ve had sex at all. My mind wanders to how long it’s been for her, but I fight it off, not wanting to think of my Ivy with any other man than me.

  Neither of us talk as I continue to thrust inside her, unable to go slow. Ivy moans and whimpers as my pace quickens. I groan when I hear her on the brink of coming, desperate to hold off until she finally finishes. When Ivy lets out her squeal of satisfaction, that’s when I lose all self-control and come right after her.

  My forehead rocks against hers as I try to steady my breathing. It’s hard to look at her for a moment, knowing that I’ve come undone and am desperately trying to fight back tears. Ivy takes my face, angling it up for me to look at her. I’m sure she sees the redness in my eyes. It takes her just a second later to swipe the tip of her thumb to clear away the second tear that falls down my face.

  When I let go of my insecurity, I notice the same redness in her eyes as well as the tears falling from them. I carefully wipe them away before returning my mouth to her. Our bodies quickly resume another round of intimacy, but this round I actually take my time. I get her going with my tongue, making her release her sweet nectar into my mouth before turning off the water. Not bothering with towels, I carry her to my bed, lowering her down gently before I climb over her. We make love into the night until both of us are exhausted.

  I roll us so Ivy is laying across me with her head on my chest. My arms cling to her body, needing to keep her for all of the rest of eternity. We don’t speak—we don’t need to as our eyelids easily close.

  Later in the night or early morning, flashes of when I kissed Ivy for the first time and when we started exploring each other’s body more with our hands entices me to recount more of those details. Remembering the time when we were together, happy, and how we have always been meant to be.

  Ivy seemed less nervous than she should have been, coaxing me along to do it more than me instructing her. I had wondered if she had sex before and even questioned her about it.

  “Not with a guy,” she giggled.

  “Why does this not freak you out?” I inspected. “In movies, the girl is always insecure the first time.”

  Ivy bit her lips and smiled. “Because I kind of know what I want.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked speculatively.

  “I trust you, so you should trust me,” she stated.

  “I do trust you,” I claimed. “What I don’t trust is how you’re acting.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” Ivy questioned angrily.

  “No,” I countered. “What I’m trying to understand is how a virgin can know what she wants.”

  “I want you,” she clarified. “Doesn’t that count.”

  “Yes, but….”

  “But, nothing,” she scolded playfully.

  “How the hell does it seem like you know what you’re doing?” I pressed.

  “I don’t want to say,”
she admitted.

  “So, you have had sex. With who? Just tell me it wasn’t Davis,” I requested.

  “Ew,” she said, trying not to laugh. “I didn’t have sex with any boys…especially Davis.”

  “Then?” I pushed.

  “I’ve…kinda….done things,” she admitted bashfully.

  “Things?” I checked.

  “The same kinds of things boys do when they explore their own body,” she directed, smacking my shoulder.

  “I know you don’t have a penis, so there’s no way you've masturbated,” I declared.

  “Henry Lee Rein,” Ivy shouted, slapping my leg. She quickly stood up and peered out the treehouse as if afraid that someone had heard us.

  I built the treehouse for us to get away from our brothers and friends a few months after we started dating. It didn’t take me long, not after learning woodworking from my dad.

  “What?” I whined. “It’s the truth. I would know when you wear a bathing suit if you had one.”

  “What if I did have one?” she questioned oddly. “Then what?”

  “I’m confused,” I stated.

  “There are people out there who have both organs,” she mentioned with her hands on her hips.

  “Do you have both organs?” I asked nervously.

  “No!” she yelled, hitting me again.

  “Ouch. Quit it,” I demanded, pulling her into me. “I wouldn’t care either way. I love you.”

  Ivy’s face fell, dropping all of the anger that was raging behind her eyes.

  “I do,” I admitted, realizing that it was the first time I’d ever told her how I felt.

  Ivy smiled.

  I could tell she wanted to say it too but she was nervous.

  “I know because I’ve masturbated,” she revealed.

  I lifted a brow. “How do girls masturbate?” I asked curiously. “Show me.”

  “I’m not going to show you,” she declared.

  “Why not?” I inquired.

  “Because, it’s weird,” she claimed.

  “No weirder than when you reach down my pants and touch me when we’re kissing but won’t let me do the same to you,” I announced.

  “How would you touch me down there?” she asked timidly.