DEAR NIFTY READERS,
This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or C) can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you read here too seriously, I certainly didn't.
Alone in the spare bedroom, Heather could hear them. Intimate whispers drifted down the hallway and landed softly on her ears. She wanted them to ask her to sleep between them, each with one arm wrapped around her, but she knew they wouldn't. Whispers stopped. Then she heard moaning, cooing. She knew they were making love, not playing like they did with her, and she ached to be part of it. Her hand slipped under her cotton nightgown, and she touched the warm and wet place between her legs, but she fell asleep before she finished.
Heather slipped out of her robe, and got into the tub. She leaned back against Denise, and rested her head on Denise's shoulder. Denise's arm wrapped around Heather, and steam rose from her tanned skin.
"Let me wash your hair," Denise said, and Heather slid down into the water. Heather didn't say a word as Denise shampooed her hair, and gently rinsed, being sure to keep soap from getting her eyes. She said nothing as Denise washed her back and caressed her skin with slippery soapy hands. She said nothing until she was leaning against Denise's warm breasts and abdomen, and Denise's arms were again wrapped around her.
"You're awfully quiet," Denise said. "You OK?"
Heather nodded.
"Are you comfortable here?"
Denise nodded again.
"Your room is comfortable? You slept well?"
Heather didn't say anything.
"Look at me, Heather."
Heather turned her face upward to look at Denise. Denise's breath smelled like sweet mint.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't sleep well. I was up too late."
"What kept you awake?"
"Just noises I guess."
"You mean you heard us?"
Heather nodded.
"Did that bother you?"
Heather said nothing. She wanted to tell Denise, but was afraid she would cry.
"Were you feeling left out?"
The tears started, and Heather was defenseless to stop them.
"Heather, you don't have to feel that way. You know you're special to both of us. But Steven and I have something more - something special. He's my husband, and even though I love giving him the gift of experiencing all things that give him pleasure, the thing that gives us the most pleasure is each other. Alone. And some day you'll have that, too. You understand, don't you?" She wrapped her arms tight around Heather, and kissed her forehead, and Heather nodded. She understood.
The two were silent, and Denise softly stroked Heather's wet hair, and they listened for a few minutes to nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the water around them.
"Your birthday is tomorrow, and I think there's something I'd like to give you," Denise said, out of nowhere.
Heather froze. What did Denise want her to have?
"I think it's time you lost your virginity. Are you ready for that?"
"I think I am."
"Look at me, Heather." Denise's eyes were dark and serious. "You know that you are a gift Steven and I give each other, right?"
Heather didn't know what Denise was trying to say, but she nodded.
"We have rules. Steven is not to be with you alone. Not ever. Except tonight. He will be with you, and I will not. And he will stay with you until tomorrow morning, but will never do that again. This is my present to you - there are some things that should be just between two people, just like when you and I were first alone together. Do you understand?"
"I think so."
"It's easy for a girl to get swept up in emotions and think she's in love with the first man to get that close to her. If you want to save this gift for a boy who is in love with you, you have every right to do that."
"Oh no. Please don't say that. I don't want a boy. I want...."
"That's just the thing. Steven is not a boyfriend. He will love that you will share this sweet experience with him, but he will not be in love with you."
"I don't care. I don't want to fall in love with the first boy to come along. I want it this way."
Denise smiled.
"That's my girl. Such a smart, sweet girl."
Heather sat at the edge of the bed, her spine rigid, hands folded neatly in her lap. She crossed one ankle over the other and pulled her bathrobe tie a little tighter. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. 9:01. She waited. 9:04. She waited 9:07. She waited. 9:17. Steven opened the door, and his lips curled up at the ends at the sight of her deer-in-the-headlights pose.
"Come here," he said, and opened his arms for her.
She stood and went to him, and buried her face in his bright white t-shirt. He tugged at the end of her hair until she turned her face upward to him. She waited, smelling his breath, until he kissed her.
His kisses are different than Denise's, she thought. Wetter. Bigger. Prickly, despite the fresh shave. More tongue. He smells different. Like soap and summer air.
He pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her so that she was facing the large mirror over the clear maple dresser. He reached around to the front of her robe and untied it, and slipped it from her shoulders.
"Look at how pretty you are," he whispered into her ear. He ran his large but soft hands over her naked abdomen, then moved them upward to cover her breasts. Steven leaned down to kiss her neck and Heather felt goosebumps rise on the skin of her back. He took off his shirt, and she stood perfectly still, watching their figures reflected in the mirror. He slipped out of his shorts and wrapped his arms around her again. Her skin looked so pale against the dark hair which covered his chest.
Heather's skin was silky, soft like a baby's. Her long river of black hair smelled sweet, the slight aroma of shampoo covering the simple, meat smell of another human being. There was no nicotine in her hair, no flavor of alcohol from perfume on her flesh. Teenage girls are wasted on teenage boys, he thought. The opposite is probably true, too. Her flesh practically vibrated against his fingertips as they traveled along her near-untouched body. He remembered his first; the clumsy fumbling and embarassing performance. In time she'll see her fortune, he thought, her first isn't having his first as well.
Steven wrapped his arm around her, resting it along her thigh and used the other to guide her mouth to his. He had to remember to sip lightly at her lips, there would be enough intrusion by him later. Tonight is not about me.
She could feel him, growing hard against her, pressing her where the curve of her ass met her back. He pressed himself against her, and breathed warm into her ear.
She watched in the mirror as his hand drifted south, past her belly and over the soft dark tuft of hair below. She sucked in her breath when Steven's hand reached further and cupped over her already moist pussy. He slipped a finger between the soft, slick folds, and she felt a sudden current of heat through her body when it rubbed against the sensitive swollen button in front. His fingers explored and rubbed and teased until her knees felt weak underneath her.
Just when she thought they would buckle, he let go of her.
"Perhaps you should lie down," he whispered.
She pulled back the sheets on the bed and crawled in between them, and watched as he walked naked across the room, his cock leading him to her like a divining rod to water.
She didn't even look at his face, but watched as the rod came toward her, and stopped at the end of the bed. The rod's owner pulled the sheets and duvet from the bed in one brisk tug.
Then he was on her. Hands roaming, legs pushing between hers. Fingers in her hair, on her nipples, lips covering her face and neck with kisses. Fingers stroking her skin, then pushing inside her aching pussy. He speaks to her in the same voice she heard drift down the hall the night before. Lovely, he says. So beautiful. Do you want me? So ready. Need to be inside you. Want you,want you,want you.
Steven took her hand and guided it to his cock, placing her grip near the base. He knew the importance of letting her have as much control over the situation as possible. Once her own grip replaced his, he pulled back slightly...then used her grasp to move closer toward her warmth. He was close enough to her to feel her humidity on his skin.
Her hips push up against him, begging him to take her. Then she feels him, pushing - trying enter. Sharp stab of pain. Whimper. Stinging. He's moving inside her, and the pain is still sharp, but she can't help but move with him. She hears the noise. It's the noise she couldn't force out of him with her lips and tongue, but now she hears it - the low growl of pleasure that starts somewhere deep inside him and escapes in a long urgent breath.
She grinds against him, and tries to pull him in deeper. He moves slower. Then faster. Deeper. Pushing against her clit. She's dizzy. Then slower. Then faster and deeper again, until the growl becomes a grunt and a shiver, and he stops moving. He kisses her deeply again, and she sucks his breath into her mouth.
The sting never disappeared, not even when she fell asleep with his arms wrapped around her. When she woke, she was 17.
Please contact me at ybother1122@yahoo.com.