He was angry with me, I could tell by the way he slammed around the kitchen and left his dishes in the sink. Something had pissed him off, maybe my reluctance to go to the beach on the spur of the moment, maybe I watched, too long, a man walk by in the mall and I shouldn’t have. We were still young and I forgave so much of it, I forgive a lot.
He was leaning against the counter drinking orange juice from a glass when I came in. I smiled at him and he ignored me, childish, and looked out the window without turning away. I love the feeling that came over me, then, the feeling of my will breaking and fading away. I let the defiance die, the feeling that I shouldn’t do what I was about to do.
I bent over the table, I knew he turned to watch, and pulled my dress up at the sides so it was up over my ass. I parted my legs, already feeling the ache and the tingle there, I was probably soaking wet even before I got through the door. I pulled my panties down, just under the roundness of my cheeks, and laid my body down on the table, head facing away from him.
I could hear his pants being undone, along with my will, and I felt only him entering me at first. I felt his thighs slap to meet mine and his hands holding my waist. He laughed a little, as I immediately orgasmed, and gave me a slap on the ass. He still felt so good in me, I put up my hand to stop the spanking but he just continued it on the other side. I had no choice, the dick came with the guy attached to it.
He pulled out and came on my back, and in a brief aggressive conclusion spanked me hard as another shattering orgasm hit me. I came without him in me, just the emptiness of where he’d been being slapped hard and harder with an unforgiving hand. He loved how much I couldn’t control himself. It started on the first date even.
I’d still been in high school and he took me around the back of my house to say goodnight before I climbed in through the window. I went up on my tippy toes to kiss him, the first time I’d kissed a boy on the lips, and he’d touched my breast first, cupping it. He slid down my ribs and around my waist to my ass, at first gentle and then trying his luck with a handful squeezed tight. I hadn’t stopped him, I just gasped as his fingers found my jeans and swiftly pulled them down. He fingered me from behind, inexperienced and rough, as much discomfort as pleasure.
I came on his fingers then, well, as close as I could go at the time. I hadn’t learned how to steer my thoughts or enjoy the emotional side. Back then I still tried to maintain some dignity.
But that night, he turned me around and I put a hand on the railing of the back porch, praying no one was watching in the dark. His cock didn’t slip into me at first, it just pushed to the side with a wet soft slurp. I giggled, for some reason, and he got revenge by entering me, holding one leg under the thigh and lifting it up. I was fucked for the first time, both hands on the railing with one foot on just the toes trying not fall down.
It hurt but I was wet and the discomfort wasn’t much more than what I’d found with my first explorations with the handle of a hairbrush. He whispered dirty things, drilling me, one hand holding me up with this stomach as he pumped his hips without moving his legs much. What an obscene introduction, I think I fell in love with him right then.
I gave it up completely, letting him bruise that part of me, knowing that something was changing. Just like the first time he unzipped his pants and told me to kiss it, to lick it. The first time I sucked at him with his fingers burrowing between my legs on the front seat of his car. He told me I should shave down there and came, salty, in my mouth and down my chin. He told me to let him see, I laid with my head on his legs and he smiled down from above me, enjoying the afterglow.
But in the backyard that first time, feeling the cool of the night and smelling the lawn, the feeling never went away. He never seemed to go soft, when my strength went he just pushed me up against the side of the house and I arched my back out for him. He pushed down the to of my shirt and viciously or forgetfully of me, pawed my breasts and ground my nipples back in against my ribs.
He might’ve intended to hold me awhile in the grass, but when a light came on upstairs at a neighbor’s house he gave me a rough kiss and bolted, still buckling his belt. I walked inside, oddly possibly because I was sore, juices dripping down my legs, giddy and high with the experience. I would never have to be seduced by him.