Creative Writing

The next afternoon I drove over to the mall, arriving a little early. I knew what her car looked like—everyone at school knew she drove a sporty little yellow Datsun 240 with tinted windows and fog lights because she had gone to school in California. We hadn't arranged a standard place where I could find it, so I followed her out at a distance. A warm Saturday in mid-September, she wore nylon running shorts, a sleeveless sport top, and running shoes. We talked as she drove and it helped that we made very little eye contact as she concentrated on the road.

"Hi," she smiled when I climbed in. "How are you?"

"Good," I said, buckling in. "How are you?"

"I'm great," she said, revving the engine and backing out of the space. "Are you ready to do this?"

"I am," I said. "How about you?"

"Most definitely. Mmmm, you smell good. Is that aftershave?"

"Yeah. I shaved and showered just before I came over."

"So did I," she giggled.

"It's not too much, is it?" I asked. Not being used to wearing the stuff, it seemed a bit overpowering.

"I like it," she replied. "You know, I wondered if you were ever going to ask me out."

"Really?" I said. "You mean all that attention was deliberate?

"Yes. You really do have a great voice, though. It's so musical and resonant, like the perfect Irish tenor. I love listening to you read. I can't believe you don't sing. Sometimes I hear your voice at night when I dream about you. I've been hoping this would happen."

"Why not just ask me?"

"Whoa. Teachers can't ask students for dates. I'd get in big trouble if you objected and reported me. You had to make the first move. All I could do was encourage you. It took a couple weeks, but I'm glad you did."

"Me, too. Um, do other teachers really date high school students?"

"It's more common than you might think. I can give you the names of a half dozen girls and the male teachers they've slept with. And those are just the ones I know about. Haven't you ever noticed how teachers flirt with their students?"

"Yes, but I always thought it was harmless fun."

"Most of it is."

"So what's going to happen?" I asked. "I mean, how are we going to do this?"

"I sometimes tutor by the hour, so it's not unusual for anyone to see students come and go from my house. Anyway, we're going to drive to my place, go inside, sit on the couch, and if we like each other we'll take off our clothes and get into my bed."

My mouth fell open.

"Does that answer your question?" she smiled.

"Yes."

"It IS what you expected, isn't it?"

"Yes," I replied, unable to believe things were happening so fast.

"I apologize for being so direct," she said, "but we don't have much time. I'd like to keep you longer, but we have to get you back before anyone notices. If we're gonna do this, you have to promise me you'll keep it an absolute secret. No one can ever know, okay? Not even your closest friend or confidante. Not even a priest in the confessional."

"Okay," I said, shifting in my seat to relieve some of the pressure in my pants. She saw this and glanced at my crotch. Smiling, she reached over and rested her hand on the bulge in my jeans.

"Mmmm," she said. "Is that for me?"

I rested my hand on hers over my erection and soon we were holding hands between the seats except when she needed both to drive. During those intervals she placed my hand on top of her bare leg, but eventually left it so far up the inside of her thigh that the heel of my hand rested against her crotch. A couple times she squeezed it between her legs, but after a few minutes of this teasing, she just held my hand between her legs while we talked. Later I realized she did this to give her consent, moving my fingers with hers. When we encountered traffic, we shifted back to holding hands. Her nipples stood out through the lightweight fabric of her sports top. I could not believe it: this really was going to be all about sex.

"Okay," she said. "We have to have a health talk. Do you have any venereal diseases like herpes, syphilis, gonorrhea or genital warts?"

"No."

"Have you ever had sex without a condom?"

"No."

"Have you ever given or received oral sex without protection?"

"No."

"Ever kiss a girl?"

"Just one."

"From school?"

"Yeah."

"Did you sleep together?"

"No."

She beamed. "Are you a virgin?"

"Yes," I replied. "Is that all right?"

"Absolutely," she smiled.

Her eyes twinkled so violently it looked like they were on fire.

"What about you?" I asked. "Any, um, any VD?"

"No. I got tested this year and am clean, and I always use condoms."

"I brought two."

"You did? Good. I won't do it without them."

"Do you use anything else for birth control?"

"I have an IUD. Know what that is?"

"Yes. Intrauterine device. An implantation disruptor."

"That's it," she said, glancing at me. "Thanks for asking. About birth control? No one ever asks in advance."

"Really?"

"You're the first ever."

"Is it okay to ask? Or should I be minding my own business?"

"No, it's a good thing. Definitely, definitely, definitely. Women love it when a guy cares enough to ask and be prepared. Birth control and protection takes the pressure off so we can relax and enjoy it. I don't know if you know it, but it's really important for a woman be able to relax."

"My last girlfriend was terrified of getting pregnant," I said.

"You just said you're a virgin."

"I am. But that's because she was terrified of getting pregnant. Mortified. We never did anything but kiss."

"Mortified," she chuckled, changing the subject. "You have a good vocabulary. I checked your records. Ninety-fifth percentile in English on your last Ames. College level vocabulary. It shows in your schoolwork. By the way, I read your sci-fi story last night, about the teen boy who loses his foot in a farming accident? So they install a bionic foot, but instead of super strength, his prosthetic contains a supercomputer with a personality all it's own that only the mad scientist creator and the boy know about. The computer is linked to his brain and able to read the boy's thoughts and communicate with him, leading to many dilemmas and misadventures. Very clever. The title you chose made me laugh out loud: My Foot."

"I'm glad you like it"

"I loved it, especially the advice his foot gives him about dating girls. Could not stop laughing. Couldn't put it down, either."

"Thanks."

"So anyway, did you breakup with your steady because she was mortified of sex?"

"No," I sighed. "She dumped me for another guy over the summer."

"Do I know this girl?"

"Yes. Angela Somerville. You had her for intro comp last year."

"Angie? Sure. I remember her. She's big in drama club now. There's another great voice."

I didn't say anything, trying not to remember.

"The word is you don't have a girlfriend. I don't remember seeing you with one in the hallways. Why is that?"

"The other girls I've asked have said no," I replied. It was true, but the whole truth was that I still had a thing for Angela.

"You're not the kind to just pick someone, are you?" she said. It wasn't a question, but she had me pegged.

"I want you," I said. "You're extraordinary."

We fell silent. She still held my hand between her legs, but let go, pulled a jacket from behind her seat, dropped it over her lap, and put both hands on the wheel. I moved my fingers, feeling the softness of her sex through thin nylon shorts. In response she spread her legs as far as the narrow bucket seat would allow, moving her foot from accelerator to brake as required. Suddenly it dawned on me that we were already engaged in foreplay, hands in each others' laps and talking sex.

"God you smell good," I said. "Intoxicating."

"Thanks," she smiled. "It's Chanel."

"I can't wait to kiss you," I said in my best, rich resonant voice. "You are a beautiful woman. You haunt my dreams every night."

"Really?" she said. "Who's on top in your dreams, you or I?"

"Sometimes you, sometimes me," I replied.

"I like being on top the most. Is that okay with you?"

"Sure."

"It's just that some guys always have to be on top. It becomes a control thing and I don't want to fight about it."

"Teach me," I said, sweeping my hand to her knee and back again. "Teach me what you like and what turns you on. Teach me everything."

She rested her hand on the lump in my jeans again. We weaved through traffic.

"Do you like it when I'm on top in your dreams?" she said.

"Very much."

"When did you last dream about me?"

"Tuesday night."

She smiled and stopped at a traffic light, still making no eye contact. I slid my fingers further down, tracing the soft flesh of her labia all the way under her. She slouched in her seat to give me more access, her legs still far apart. I moved my hand inside her running shorts. Only the thin layer of her panties separated my fingers from her sex and that layer was damp. With gentle fingertips I felt the contours of her sex and rubbed her hard little clit. Her breathing changed and she gasped a few times, resting her hand on my erection while we waited for the light to change. Tinted windows helped hide us, but I have never been so glad to be alone at a stoplight.

"I have sex dreams about you, too," she said, "but mostly you're my fantasy."

"Me? Wow. I never would have guessed."

"Do you ever fantasize about me?" she asked. "Or do you stick to high school girls?"

"Since school started I've fantasized only you. With your eyes and attention focused on me? God. I get hard every time you look at me in class."

"God that feels good," she sighed, pushing against my fingers a bit. "Sometimes I start to get hot when I see you in class and have to cross my legs."

"Really? Me? Wow."

"You're a handsome young man. You have such long arms. How tall are you?"

"Six-two," I said.

"Tall, dark and handsome," she smiled, turning into her driveway. "Here we are. I'm going to pull her into the garage."

"Does she have a name?"

"Becca. As in Rebecca. Don't tell anyone that, okay? I don't want anyone to know."

"This is all secret," I said. "You have my word."

"Thanks," she said as the automatic garage door wound down behind us. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah. A little," I replied.

"Just relax, okay? It's a lot of fun and it feels really good. No one will interrupt us here."

As soon as the garage door closed behind us, I turned and kissed her, just a soft, gentle kiss with no tongues involved, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her flat tummy. It was our first and I'll never forget it because she lifted my shirt and ran a warm hand up my chest. In response I cupped one of her breasts on the side. Her other hand still rested over the lump in my pants. We made serious eye contact for the first time after the kiss. I hadn't seen that particular look before, but soon came to recognize it as her "I want you" look, or perhaps more accurately her "take me" look.

"A couple ground rules," she said. "I don't do blow jobs and no anal sex, okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you know what those are?"

"Yes."

"And if I tell you to stop, you stop. Got it?" she said firmly.

It sounded strange coming from her mouth while she stroked the lump in my pants and my fingers continued to work between her legs.

"Understood."

"Same goes for me. If you tell me to stop, I'll stop."

"Fair enough."

"It's about feeling safe," she gasped, "so we can relax and enjoy each other."

"You're safe with me," I said. "Always."

We kissed more passionately. Our tongues met and our hands abandoned each others' sex to pull at each other.

"Come on," she said, gathering purse and jacket and opening her door. "Don't forget your books."

Once inside I dropped my books on a chair by the door and pulled her into another kiss. At the time I didn't know how much she liked it when I took her in my arms and controlled her. The kiss started gently, but her tongue soon invaded my mouth. We were both minty from chewing gum. Tired of stooping, I lifted her and pressed her against the door. A little gasp escaped her lips, a sound I soon learned meant she liked what I was doing. She wrapped legs around my waist and squeezed. We left a trail of clothes to the living room couch, arriving in our underwear. I sat down and she straddled me, kissing, her hands all over me. I caressed her back, neck, shoulders and breasts, moving on to her belly and legs.

"You like to touch," she said.

"Is that okay? Is it too much? Am I doing it right?"

"It's wonderful," she sighed. "I'll tell you if you do something I don't like, okay?"

"Okay."

"And you tell me if I do something you don't like, alright?"

"Alright."

She unhooked her bra and I pulled it away, kissing her breasts and tonguing her nipples. Then we settled down for what seemed like a long session of kissing and petting on the couch, but it lasted just fifteen minutes. It only seemed longer because I thought my dick was going to explode from all the blood being squeezed into it. As in the car, she really liked my fingers between her legs. When she knelt with knees still straddling me and pushed her boobs to my mouth, my lips and tongue obliged. I soon swept underwear off her butt and she stood over me on the couch to remove them. This left her sex at eye level and I immediately pulled her to my mouth.

"Oh my God!" she gasped as I practiced cunnilingus for the very first time. I held her firmly in place with hands on her butt, caressing it and her lower back and legs while I worked. She didn't like giving oral sex, but said nothing about receiving it and did nothing to stop me.

It all seemed pretty straightforward. After licking and pulling on her labia with my lips for a while, I popped her clitoris out of its hood with my tongue and began working it, amazed that it looked exactly like a tiny penis. I had read that it was the female equivalent of the male member and that no other female animal had one. Nor did any other female animal experience orgasm. Only women.

She collapsed against the wall above me, her throat issuing quiet gasps and moans, one hand in my hair massaging my scalp and guiding my head gently against her. I could feel her butt muscles squeeze together as she pressed against my tongue. For the first time ever, I opened a woman with my tongue and tasted her sex before returning to the little nub which gave her so much pleasure. Taught with tension, her legs began trembling and she gasped for air until she couldn't stand anymore. Crying out, she collapsed in my lap, burying her face in my neck. I wasn't sure if she had come and I was afraid to ask. After recovering a few minutes, another passionate kiss joined our mouths.

"Have you ever done that before?" she sighed, coming up for air.

"Um, no. Was it alright?"

"Are you kidding me? You just made me come."

"So I'm doing okay, then?"

"I don't really have to teach you anything, do I?" she sighed.

"I still don't know what you like in bed."

"Come on, then," she said, getting up and taking my hand.

I scooped my jeans off the floor and she led me down the hall to her room.

"You won't need these," she said, trying to take them away.

"Condoms," I said. They were in a pocket.

"By all means, then," she said with a sultry smile.

I watched her cute, athletic butt roll as I followed her to her room. God she was cute, beautiful, sexy and stunning.

"God you are cute. Beautiful. Sexy. Stunning," I said.

She closed the door behind us, her eyes twinkling violently and her smile blinding me. I pulled her close. She stripped off my briefs while we kissed. I stepped out of them and climbed onto her bed, pulling her along.

"Come teach me."

It didn't me take a minute to lie back, apply a sheath and for her to slide onto it. She paused and closed her eyes once she had me inside. I could only guess it felt really, really good—almost as if she wasn't used to it or couldn't believe it. Arching her back deeply, she slid up and down on me a few times as if to test me. Then she kept on sliding up and down and round and round while I caressed every inch of her body my hands could reach. At one point, she pulled my hands up and held them to the sides of her breasts.

"Keep them here while I move," she instructed, "and move them like this. Mmmm... God it feels so good. Mmmm... a little harder... okay, that's too much... do this... like this... Mmmm... that's it... just like that. Oh, God, you're killing me..."

I massaged her breasts and brushed fingertips lightly over her nipples while she rocked away on me. I did very little else, laying as still as possible, breathing heavily, watching her, responding to her and feeling my heart pound in my chest as she moved with more and more abandon. Was she squeezing me? She took my hands and held them palm to palm for the finale, moaning, gasping, crying out. For a second I thought my erection was pulsing, but it was her orgasm. Lost in it, eyes still closed, she let go of my hands and stretched her arms high overhead dropped her head back, then leaned forward and rested palms on my chest. I gently caressed her thighs and belly then moved my hands up her arms, unable to believe what had just happened.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," I whispered.

She opened her eyes and looked in mine, but didn't say anything. I caressed her wrists and palms, then something happened, like a lingering orgasmic contraction, and she stiffened, closing her eyes again. I didn't know anything about the female orgasm back then or how long it could last. Content just to be there with her, I moved my eyes over her body, trying to remember every curve, every contrast, every eyelash, every small detail, certain I would never see her like this again. Soon her breathing slowed and she lowered herself to me. We kissed, and I began making small thrusting movements.

"God. You're still hot," she said. "I know how to remedy that."

She pushed herself up, squeezed me tightly, and made a few quick thrusts in rhythm with me. Suddenly my hips were out of control, almost bucking her off as I came, crying out. She continued to squeeze and I knew she had to feel me pulsing inside her. It felt so good. Suddenly it all became crystal clear to me: this is why we live. This is why there were four billion humans the planet. This is our purpose. This is everything we live for. Sex. Whatever its consequences or outcomes, we live for sex.

"Did you like that?" she whispered in my ear.

"God yes," I said, panting. "You are amazing."

We shared a long, post-climactic kiss. Looking in her eyes, I caressed her back for a while before she spoke.

"Okay," she said, "I'm going to get off now because you have to take off the sheath before you completely lose your erection. You don't want to lose your condom inside and spill its, um, contents."

With that she rose and squeezed me out of her, which made me gasp. I stripped off the latex, tied it in a knot and flushed it.

When I returned from the bathroom she had climbed under the covers. Her eyes raked my body as I approached, making zero eye contact until I stood by her bed. I never felt more assessed in my life.

"Come here," she said, holding the covers up.

I climbed in and she snuggled up immediately, resting her head in the crook of my shoulder. I held her in my arms, unable to believe how warm she felt. I kissed the top of her head, loving her fragrant hair. She planted a kiss on my chest in response.

"What do we do now?" I said.

"We rest a little while just like this."

"Should I be doing something?"

"Just hold me for now, okay?"

"Okay."

After the frenetic activity and stimulation of foreplay and sex, she no longer seemed like an authority figure I associated with teacher and elder. Instead she was vulnerable, less an object of lust and sex and more a real human being. I found myself wanting to care for her, watch over her, and protect her. Was that natural? I could feel her pulse in her arms. Strong and steady, it slowed gradually as she recovered. I pressed my hand between her breasts. Her heart thumped powerfully beneath. She put her free hand over mine and linked fingers.