A Word in June

Her pussy was tight. I mean, even on my finger. I had snaked my hand down -- the zipper pinched the back of my wrist -- light tickle of hair between the fingertips -- the curving slope underneath. The tip of my middle finger pressed around in soft folds of flesh -- gently, so as not to make a mistake and get pushed away -- until finding the stirring wetness. All the while our tongues were busy, slickly sliding against each other, as if it was only to keep the kiss going she allowed me to touch her there. Up and down the slit my finger split once, twice. My wrist bent awkwardly in the tightness of jeans, the miniscule criss-cross of the thread pressing it's pattern into my skin.

Then I crooked my finger, dipping in. My cock had been hard already, but when my finger squeezed into the hot wetness it felt as if to burst through the denim of my jeans on it's own power. Her kissing tongue became deeper and more urgent. Her hips moved up to meet pleasure, about to break my wrist. But I probed deeper still, moving my digit in a tight circle - slippery wall of flesh on each side. How fucking tight, my brain screamed. Could I even fit in there? How fucking good it will feel to try. Should I fuck her? She was younger than me. I wouldn't be breaking any laws, but as it was more than a couple of years, definitely wouldn't want it getting around. Everyone would naturally assume I was taking advantage of her.

I didn't feel a hymen. If she had fucked someone, he literally had a dick the size of a pencil. She was really producing some juice. That would help. My dick is only an inch or so longer than average, but somewhat thicker, so it still wouldn't be a quick and easy in.

Her hand was trying to get in my pants. Fuck it, I thought. With my free hand I undid my belt and my jeans. I peeled them down and my cock pushed out against the stretchy cotton of my boxer-briefs. Maybe too fast for her, I don't know. She kept her hand still, flat on my leg, despite the moans as I continually stroked her. So I popped the boxer-briefs down, my cock now unrestrained and naked, purple veined and a wetness at the tip. I put my hand over the back of hers. She flipped her hands and laced her fingers through mine. A very sweet thing, but I wasn't trying to hold hands. I took her hand and put it over my hardness. Her fingers gripped it carefully, still, and like holding a baby bird so I moved my hand back over hers and squeezed it. Then as I moved my finger around inside her she grew a little bolder, feeling and stroking. Our lips remained locked this whole time.

My M.O. for the longest had been to let the girl set the limits. Meaning, I would go as far as she would let me. Until she stopped me. When she stopped me I would go no further. I would never force. But I would torture her with tiny pleasures to change her mind.

____

I had visions in my head of her entertaining ideas of cheating on me, or straight leaving me --- until she discovered she was pregnant and would have to stay with me.

____

"Keep sucking" I said, my voice desperate, thick with lust. She had just taken a huge load of my cum into her mouth and swallowed. At least it felt huge leaving. My cock had throbbed like a bass drum. After I kissed her moments later, my tongue tasting hers, wondering if in the mix I was tasting any of myself, she broke away and looked at me with a crooked smile and called me a dirty boy. I only smiled back and kissed her hard again. 'If only she knew the things I'd done' I thought to myself, and my cock began to swell again. She moaned when she realized I was going to fuck her again. Her hand went to my cock. This sweet acting good girl was going to be a smut-talking cum-swilling slut before I was done.

_____

We'd woken up in the middle of the night, kissing. It was like waking up in the middle of a dream - reality still felt heavy and wavy - half asleep with a hard cock - wrapped up with her, wet tongues dancing. My hands went down her hips - those firm hips with smooth skin - over the bone of the hip, pushing her small cotton shorts down over the beautiful curve of her ass, and she reached right for my hardness. My fingers found the wetness between her legs. Our hips instinctively moved closer in arching pleasures and she aimed my cock and then we were fucking.

I wasn't trying to wake up any more, it was like riding a drug and the sex was mixing right in. It felt so good, so right, like a new reality we'd stepped into where my being inside her was all there was, and the only thing that mattered.

Good Sense pushed through her fog of arousal and sleepiness "Are you wearing a condom?" she whisper moaned.

"No," I said and thrust into her strong, as if to say --And see how good this feels? I did it again and again - steady, strong - and she moaned, squeezed me, letting herself get turned on and letting go and Good Sense shut the fuck up and thought --might as well enjoy this.

_____

It takes just one time. Once you do something one time, the door is open and your brain and your morals say Fuck You to logic -- we did it once, we gave in, what the fucks the point in going back? The first time you masturbate, the first time you fuck, the first time you suck a dick, the first time you swallow cum, the first time you do whatever it is you do. In this case it was - the first time you fuck him without a condom, and the first time you take his cum inside you. It's hard to go back and say 'you should wear a condom.' You're on the pill, and you've already taken his essence inside you--and it feels good (how good that rush of warm wetness), and then knowing it's there through the night, a part of him inside you, makes you feel like a real connection has been made. You've done it once, might as well keep it up. That's what your fucking brain puts forth as logic. And the exception becomes status quo.

______

She lay back on the bed, legs spread and I on my knees between, still hard cock in hand. "Play with yourself," I said.

"I'm all dirty," she said.

"That's right," I said, turning the tone. "You're a dirty girl. Now touch yourself for me." She didn't look sure of herself, eyes probing mine for sureness, but she reached down and her fingers found her cunt. "That's it," I said. "Fucking beautiful." She closed her eyes and her fingers dipped inside where I had just pumped yet another load of baby making juice. The slippery shit coated her fingers. I didn't want her to push it out, like some movies do. I wanted that shit to stay in*side* her. Deep up in her. That's what turned me on.

_____

I fucked her long and firm, with a steady rhythm like a hydraulic piledriver. One thing I loved about her pussy (besides the fact it felt so damn good) was that I didn't bottom out. Not unless I pressed in real tight and gave those little reaching thrusts--like when I came. I was used to bottoming out. Nearly every girl I'd ever fucked I couldn't get all the way inside, but her, she was built just deep enough. Which was funny because she wasn't real tall. Maybe average height for a girl. Five three or something like that. Don't get me wrong, she was tight enough, too.

I dated her twice. The first time I was twenty one and she was eighteen, just out of high school not yet in college. She did whatever the fuck I wanted, though I wasn't pressing for as much then. I was just into slamming my cock home, fuck the shit talking or any of that other shit. And she was real quiet then. Kinda shy and compliant. Several times I wound up fucking her mouth. She'd be laid back on the couch and I'd be over her, my legs on either side, my cock thrusting in and out of her lovely sucking mouth til she swallowed my cum.

The first time she swallowed my cum was the very first time she sucked my dick. When I felt it coming on, I told her, like I did with every girl before. When she didn't take her lips off, I whispered it again : "I'm cumming..." And she sucked on. I wondered if she'd really do it. I held back as long as I could, but I was past the point of no return. I let it go, going into spasms. I was standing, and my legs were trembling, subtle jerks, but her lips stayed around my flesh, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed. Volleys of warm cum spilled onto the back of her tongue, but she didn't let go until I was the one that pulled away. It was the first time a girl swallowed me. I thought to myself how lucky I was to have found her. Pretty, sweet, and didn't need to be talked into anything. I wasn't sure if I should kiss her or not after, so I pulled off her pants and knelt between her legs. My cock swelled again while I kissed and caressed the folds of flesh, my tongue sliding over and in--and when I fucked her again I kissed her deeply.

____

The second time we dated was different. Years had passed. We were both in our twenties by then. She was no longer the shy quiet girl. Not that she was a loud drunk, but she had gained a vibe of confidence that fascinated me. I had almost gotten married to someone else in the intervening years; I don't know what the fuck she'd been doing because she didn't want to talk about ex-es. So she never had a clue, I don't think, about my close call.

Though she now did it less, she still enjoyed sucking my cock. She still swallowed. But she no longer enjoyed receiving. I think it was because she just liked straight out fucking better. I don't know. I wondered if it was because my skills were lacking, but I'd made girls cum before doing it. Then I thought maybe it was body image issues on her part, despite how sexy I told her she was...

_______

She called me disgusting. I had pulled off my shirt in the park at the university. We sat under a shade tree on the hottest day of the year. A breeze kicked up, and I wanted to feel it. I didn't respond at the time out of shock. She had looked at me with a sneer making her beautiful face ugly and told me it was disgusting when guys "did that." I waited a moment, hoping maybe it was a failure of a joke--because I am built enough, with a four pack if not six--but when she didn't change course I said --- I don't remember what I said, but the subtext was "what the fuck?"

When she crawled close in bed that night, wanting me to fuck her, I didn't feel it. Not like I didn't try to feel it. I kissed her back. My hands touched her in the places where only I was allowed. But I could only get about halfway there.

Was it her, she wondered. "Talk me up, baby," I said. "Tell me how bad you want it."

And she wanted it. My cock when hard is as big as her wrist. She told me. She told me how good it felt, how much she wanted me to fuck her. And my cock did get hard.

"Yeah, you want me inside you?" I said. "You want me to make you cum? Fuck you hard and make you moan?"

"Yes" the desperate hiss.

"Well maybe you should have fucking thought about that when you called me disgusting." And I grabbed my pillow and went to the living room couch.

________

We got past it. Kinda. She never apologized for that, and I tried to ignore it, forget it. We went back to fucking regularly. I came in her so many times we may as well have been married. I'd fuck her twice a night. I'd cum in her and keep fucking her until the second one, which always took longer. Very nice of her to let me work on that skill.

We had all our Christmases together. My parents loved her, my sister and my niece loved her. I know I did, too. A proposal crossed my mind more than once. But she kept saying mean shit every now and then, like that day in the park. Maybe once a month, without apology. She treated strangers coldly, every now and then rudeness to a clerk, a waitress - and I thought, do I want to raise a family with that?

I first fucked her when she was eighteen. I was twenty one. We'll both be in our thirties, soon. Sometimes I miss her. She's single again, now. Me, too. We talk to each other now and then, and I'm tempted. Despite everything, man, am I tempted.