It was an accident that brought us together. A lucky accident? Maybe. A dreadful, unwanted, appalling accident? Certainly.
Her parents were my best friends and my neighbours, and when I heard about the crash I went to her house to see if there was anything I could do. It was a matter of luck that she was not in the car, with the rest of the family. She was getting ready to go out to a concert with a friend, a present for her 18th birthday.
She was distraught of course, and could not sleep alone in the house. After a dreadful night I needed to get some sleep myself, and she did not want to be alone, so she came next door with me. I found her later, when I got up, asleep on my couch. She stayed there for the next few days, while I arranged the funeral, and was there when the solicitor’s letter came for me. I was surprised to learn that I was her parents’ executor, and at the Solicitor’s office I was even more surprised to find that all their property was in trust for her, and I was the trustee until she was 21. If she had been under eighteen I would have been her guardian. I was humbled by the confidence they had shown in me.
A few days later I was humbled by the guilt of a momentary betrayal of the trust my friends had placed in me to care for their child. She didn’t want to stay in the house her parents and sister had so recently and suddenly been ripped from, so she had gradually moved some of her things over to my house, taken over the spare room, and bit by bit brought her clothes and possessions to it, and of course there was no en suite, so she used the shared bathroom. When I caught a glimpse of her, wrapped in a towel, flitting back to what I now thought of as her room, I had an instant of curiosity and arousal. Her bare legs and shoulders, her damp hair curling around her face and neck, darker with the water on it than her natural brunette, her slim feet with a flash of red at the toes, all registered in my mind along with a fleeting desire to see what the towel concealed.
I stood in shock when I realised what I had just felt. I was embarrassed, although she had not seen me, and could not know how my heart had suddenly lifted. It was an inappropriate thing to think, a bad thought. I tried to reject it, but I am too sensible not to realise that to do so is silly, (no matter how odd or unwelcome it is to be turned on by something, you have to admit that you were turned on by it) so I tried to rationalise it away (no big deal, she is young and pretty and nearly naked, and you are after all a man, even if you are nearly old enough to be her father, and have known her since she was a kid, you have to admit that she isn’t a kid any more, so don’t be surprised, but do be careful).
Even so, it nagged at me. For days afterwards I would glance at her and unwanted thoughts would fleet across my mind – she was eighteen now, and had been living in my house for a couple of weeks, and even though the disruption and grief of her sudden loss was beginning to subside, and she had decided to go back to school, there had been no boys calling round to check up on her.
Why not? Her girlfriends had been over. So she didn’t have a boy at the moment? Had she ever had a boyfriend? Had he ever had her? (bad thought) Is she a virgin? (Bad thought.) A lesbian? (Bad Thought) could that blonde girl who has been over three times this week and I saw kiss her on the cheek and hug her at the funeral be a Girlfriend, not just a girlfriend? (very Bad Thought) Or maybe she is Bi? (Very Bad Thought, especially when thinking about the cute blonde and a three-way fling potential).
I found her one afternoon asleep on the sofa, curled up in her school uniform, tie loosened and top button undone, hair tumbling in red brown curls across her face, beatific smile upon her lips. It was the happiest I had seen her for weeks. Her legs were curled up and I realised that if I walked around the other end of the couch, say, to go to the kitchen, and glanced back I might be able to see her panties. (Very, Very Bad Thought).
A week later, she bent over to pick up a piece of tomato that had slipped off the chopping board in the kitchen one evening as we prepared dinner. Her jeans were tight and smooth and the shape of her thighs and … (Oh So Very Bad Thoughts)
Time passes and reality sets in. My obsession lifted, as custom staled her less than infinite variety, and her sorrow and anger and bitterness and aggression played themselves out. It was a strange relationship. I wasn’t a parent or really any kind of authority figure so she had nothing to rebel against, but I wasn’t a confidante or friend either. Yet we were more than flatmates, or mere acquaintances. I suppose I offered her continuity in a world that had been utterly torn apart. So when the “A” level results came out and she got the grades to go to to the university of her choice (surprisingly good really given the disruption of her studies and mental state) I was there to congratulate her when she opened the envelope. At which point she burst into tears, and flung herself at me.
She was in floods, and almost collapsing in grief, and clinging to me for support as the words tumbled out. “It just isn’t fair, it just isn’t fair. Why did she have to die?”
I hugged her and hushed her, and cradled her as she wept and sobbed, “Why did Tilly have to die after I was so mean to her?”
It was the first time she had spoken of her sister since the crash.
Suddenly her unspoken feelings were being released. It was a deluge of words and sobs.”I called her horrible names because she was snide at me before they went out. I said she was a slut and a whore because she suggested I might get to go back stage at the concert and snog the boys in the band for my birthday, but she was only joking, and anyway what does it matter that she had slept with all those boys? If I had been in the car with her and I died would it have mattered that I have kept myself this way and never let them do those things she did, and I never, I never… I never lived, but she did, she had fun, she had a real life! And then it was over, and she was gone and.. At least she lived before she went. And here I am still the same, living on without having a life, going to University and knowing nothing, too proud to be kissed, too busy getting a career to have a boyfriend, and for what? To be wiped out tomorrow by a lorry with a broken brake, like them? Oh I wish I could take it back, I wish I could have been like her and snogged those boys and taken them to bed, and done all the things she did, and never said those things to her.”
I was not sure what to say. I was shocked at the revelations, the power of her feelings, the trembling struggling body in my arms, clinging to me. So I muttered some banality about it being alright, and she stiffened in my arms and pushed her head back to look me in the eyes and spoke in a voice that was dreadful to hear. “It isn’t alright, I said those things but I didn’t mean them. I was jealous and spiteful. I wanted so much to be brave like her, to be able to get close to a boy, to be pretty and attractive and to be able to take my chances, but I never was and I still can’t do it.” She burst back into tears at this point and sagged against me. I hugged her again, but this time I had something to say, since I could easily deny some of the things she said.
“But you are pretty and attractive, you are beautiful and clever and fiery and wonderful, and brave as anyone I know. I can’t believe that the boys aren’t throwing themselves at you.”
Through sobs I could make out her reply “But I don’t know what to do, I don’t want to be like her and let them use me, but I feel so, so…” she broke off in a shuddering frustrated gurgle. She moved a little back then, her hands came round from my sides, and gathered against my chest, her head was down. For a moment I thought she was about to push me away, and I loosened my hug to let her go, but her head snapped up and she looked at me fiercely as her hands gripped the front of my shirt.
She kissed me.
It was a hard lipped, fierce kiss that took me by surprise. I didn’t have time to think, and I didn’t know how to respond, and she pulled away suddenly, and looked furiously at me.
It was startling, the look in her eye, something searingly soul deep. Anger, fury, but not hate, something painful. It froze me.
Then she did it again. It was the most unloving and vicious kiss I had ever had. A hard pressure of lips and teeth against mine, almost painful. I let my jaw relax, my mouth open a little, pulled back to seek a comfortable position, but it was like being attacked. She pulled back again suddenly.
“Damn it!” she yelled and pushed away from me, flinging herself across the room and out the door, running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.
I really didn’t know what to do.
Except of course to fall back on the old maxim that built an Empire, as my mother used to say: when in doubt make tea.
I left it a while, but it was perhaps only fifteen minutes later when I knocked gently at the bedroom door and said “Katie, darling, I’ve brought a cup of tea. Will I leave it out here for you?”
I heard a movement and her voice saying “No, its okay, you can come in.”
She was sitting on her bed, red eyed, face blotchy, crumpled tissues on the floor. She smiled bravely. “Thank you, Sean. Mum always made tea when we had a row. It was her way of saying it was okay, she wasn’t angry. Took her a few hours sometimes.”
“Well, I’m not angry. That wasn’t a row anyway.”
“No, No, didn’t think it was. Although I thought you might be angry. Because of what I did.”
I smiled, and sipped from my mug, and shook my head “Let me tell you, no man has ever got angry because a beautiful young woman kissed him. Well not unless she did it in front of his wife.”
She looked at me then with a serious frown. “Why haven’t you got one? A wife? Mum always said it was a shame you didn’t marry. She said you were such a nice guy, she couldn’t understand why some girl didn’t grab you.”
I shrugged. “Never found the right girl. Or she never found me. I nearly did. Couple of times I thought I had, even asked one to marry me. Things didn’t work out.”
“But you’re not gay or anything are you?”
I nearly choked on my tea. “No! Why, did you think I might be?”
“Not really.” Katie looked down. “Mum fancied you, you know.”
It was a good job I wasn’t drinking anything at that point. After a moment of silence I said, gently, “No. I don’t think so. Okay we flirted a bit, but that was all just fun. I flirt with everyone.”
“No, really.” She looked up. “She told me once, last year. I asked her if she had ever been tempted by another man, not dad, and she said yes. She said she had been really tempted years ago by a bloke at work, and then she said ‘and of course there is always Sean. If it wasn’t for your dad I would grab him with both hands.’ She was serious.”
I was surprised, but said “Nah, she wasn’t saying she fancied me. We are good friends. Were. We were good friends. I suppose its true, if it wasn’t for your father being about, well, maybe we would have been a couple, married, all that. But that’s not the same. I loved her, you know, and your dad.”
I had tears in my eyes.
Katie shook her head. “No, she fancied you. She said so. She said you smelled nice. She said she nearly jumped you on News Years Eve a couple of years ago. She meant it.”
My mind flashed back to a midnight kiss that had lasted half a second too long. Jackie’s big green eyes, so like her daughter’s, wide with shock at the feeling that moment dragged up. My cock hard in an instant against her body, the smell of her hair. Christ, it was true. I knew it then. I had known for years, but I would always deny it.
Katie was still looking at me. She reached out and touched my hand. I looked up at her. “It’s okay Sean. She loved Dad, but you are an attractive man. The thing is, now I keep thinking why didn’t she do it? Like Tilly and her boys. Tilly had fun, and like me, Mum didn’t. Why not? Now she can’t. She loved you, she should have, well, shown it. Had fun with you. When she could. It is such a waste, so many lost opportunities, so many things she should have done and enjoyed. And you, poor you, never had that. It’s not right.”
“It would have changed things, Katie. Changed things between Jackie and me, and between her and your father, and I don’t know how it could have been right again between him and me. I know he was a very understanding guy, very liberal, very open minded, but there are some things that are too primal. Sex changes things, and we all had too much friendship to loose for the sake of lust.”
“But we don’t.” said Katie.
“What?” I said, not sure what she meant.
“We don’t have anything to loose.” She said and slid across the bed, and brought her body against mine and her face close.
And she kissed me again.
It wasn’t fierce this time. It was so soft at first I almost wasn’t sure her lips had touched mine. Her hand on my shoulder was hesitant, her body moved to mine but it was only until the lightest pressure of our clothes against each other was transmitted through to our skin. It was almost not a kiss at all. It was the most beautiful kiss of all.
Gently, softly, she pressed a little more. I couldn’t resist. It wasn’t just lust, although that was sparked and flaming in a second. I was simply lost in the moment, and each new sensation that I noticed added to the splendid disorientation. This was not real. It was a dream that made no sense.
Her hands travelled round me to pull herself closer. I felt her arms tighten, her bosom press against my chest, her knee against my hip, fingers in my hair, nose on my cheek, her breath hot and sweet. Her lips were warm and soft and wet, tasting of salt tears, sweet tea and sudden passion. Her hand came to my chest, and gripped me, feeling the muscles beneath my shirt as she ran the other hand down my back. The kiss deepened, pushed my head back, and more firmly pressed my mouth. My lips had opened, and so did hers, and I felt a tongue-tip flick against my lower lip before she grazed it with her teeth. My hands had found their own way to her back now, pressing through jumper and tee-shirt to feel the ripple of flesh and bones, and bra strap, as they moved up to her shoulder blades and pulled her closer.
It was a tipping point. I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes from a few inches away. They were full of pleading and desire. In that instant I could let her go, say “No”, release her gently and kindly and talk to her about finding boys her own age and how inappropriate it was for me to kiss her. I could let her down gently, thank her, tell her I was flattered, but I couldn’t take advantage of her, that I thought of her as my own child, that I loved her like a daughter.
All the things that I should have said. But I couldn’t.
Those green eyes, so like her mothers, that soft pale face, and throat, surrounded by red curls, a picture of beauty. And desire. She wanted this. And it was not just that she wanted someone to kiss her, to make love to her. She wanted it to be me.
I kissed her again. A brief kiss, deliberate and gentle, and then said “Katie, I have loved you since you were born. But I never thought I would do this. Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sean. Yes. I’ve dreamed of this.”
The next kiss lingered, and I took her more closely into my embrace, pulling her knee across my legs, bringing a hand down onto her bottom, drawing her to me, ending with her sitting astride me, legs spread, the crotch of her jeans against the hard lump in mine, my hands spread across her back, her breasts crushed against my front, my tongue flicking out to touch hers.
The kiss developed intensity and technique. She was learning, experimenting, and enjoying it all. When I kissed her earlobes she shivered, and when I went for her throat she threw her head back and sighed.
I kissed down into the neck of her jumper, and back up to her mouth, then repeated the move on the other side. I pulled at her collar to expose more skin and planted kisses where I could. She got the idea, and without a word reached down to pull her tee-shirt and jumper off in one go. I helped, and took the moment to admire her. Neither of us said anything, but it was then that I knew it was really going to happen. I would take this girl, right here and now, then and there, I would make her a woman. I would make her mine.
We were back in close embrace, and kissing, but now my hands could travel over her soft skin, feel each muscle in her back, slide down her long, slim arms and over her hands, my fingers meshing with hers for a moment before running back up the sensitive underside, stimulating her wrists, the inside of her elbow, the inner flesh leading to her ticklish armpit, and passing the side of her breast, still enclosed in her soft cotton bra.
She began to return my kisses on my body when I ran a line down her neck and across her shoulder, and I felt her lips on my ear and my jugular, and round to my throat. For the first time I heard a catch in her breath, and a deep noise in her throat as she breathed in passion. She pulled at the collar of my shirt, and fumbled a button open and sank her nose into the hollow of my collarbone as she kissed me again and inhaled deeply. She murmured “You do smell good,” and raised her head, kissing my lips again “You smell great.”
I kissed her throat and ran another line of kisses over her skin, straight down this time, between her breasts, into the cleavage of her bra, brushing the inside curves of her quite well developed bosom, and breathing in deeply to catch the smell of her breasts. Warm and sweet, comforting and sexy. “So do you,” I said and brought my head back up to look her face and we shared a smile before we had another kiss.
She had her hand inside my shirt collar, round my neck, holding herself to my lips, but now it slid round onto my chest, and she undid another button and then a third to let her reach more skin. I undid another as she put two hands on me, feeling the muscles and then touching my nipples. They went hard beneath her palms, and she pulled one hand away and looked down at the dark crinkled lump beneath. “Oh,” she said “It is all wrinkled up.”
“Yes, boys nipples do it just the same as girls.” I said, and daringly brushed a thumb over her breast, rubbing her nipple through her bra, and making it peak a little more.
“And boys like having them kissed, just like girls do,” I added.
“Oh.” she said and looked serious.
I wondered what the follow up would be as she hesitated for a heartbeat. Would she say she had never had her’s kissed? That she wanted me to do it?
She leaned forward and kissed mine. It was lovely, and my already nearly hard-as-it-can-get cock got just a little harder. I sighed. “Mmnn, that’s nice, thank you.”
She moved to the other one. It put her breast just over my hand, and I reached a finger up to touch the bare skin above her bra cup, running it down the curve into the hollow between both soft mounds, and round inside the cup to brush up over her nipple. She jolted in shock as my finger rubbed across her hard tip, and made a little gasp, but went back to sucking at my chest, and pushed herself a little against my hand. I read the signal correctly as an invite to do it again, and do more.
With one hand on her breast outside the bra, squeezing gently, I probed the other cup with a finger and found her other nipple, gently rubbing around it. She hummed in delight against my chest, and came up to kiss my mouth, pulling the straps of her bra from her shoulders and flipping the cups down as she moved, baring her breasts for my hands, although I couldn’t see them.
They were soft and firm, her nipples felt large and hard, and her tongue in my mouth was insistent. Her hands were pushing my shirt back off my shoulders, and we embraced with bare nipples against bare chest as I struggled to undo my cuffs and throw off the shirt altogether. She reached behind her to unclip the bra, and then we tumbled together on the bed, me dragging her down on top of me so she was straddling me, her legs parted around my body, her crotch against mine, soft against hard.
I wanted her on top so she would feel comfortable and in control. I knew she wanted this, and had said she wanted everything, but I was worried that she would get scared, that I would go too fast.
It also meant that I had total access to her back, and could massage her and run my hands through her hair, and reach down to press against her bottom, pushing her against my erection. I could also bring my hand around the side of her, caressing her breasts, thumbing her nipples to hardness, and she could lean forward over me, bringing them to my mouth.
They were beautiful, pert and firm, quite large for a girl still in her teens, with compact aereolae and small short tips. They had that fresh and soft smell and the delicate taste that I adore, and when I took them in my mouth, and rasped them with my tongue, she arched her back and growled and purred, and pressed her crotch down against me, and I knew this girl was more than just turned on. She was revelling in the sensation. She was exploring and learning and pushing, and taking pleasure. Not just willing, but eager.
I took my time with each breast, varying my actions, licking, kissing, sucking, nuzzling, using hands and mouth to squeeze and caress every part of them. And I touched her elsewhere while my mouth was focussed on her bosom. I brushed her face, let a finger enter her mouth as I sucked her nipple and she sucked back. My other hand tingled her spine all the way into the top of her jeans then back up and down the length of her bare arm, grabbing her hand and interlacing our fingers. My hands roamed, rubbing her earlobes and her thighs, brushing across her breasts and stomach, her hair and her smooth skin.
She in turn caressed me, and more and more frequently ground her body against mine. Suddenly she slid backwards, kissing my mouth again, and forcing herself against the hard bulge in my trousers. Her hips went into a fast rocking motion for a few moments, and her breathing went sharp and shallow. I thought she would come, but in an unexpected burst of frenzy she flung herself off me and lay on the bed, hands over her face, panting and sobbing.
I was surprised, again, and unsure what to do.
Despite the unexpected shock of her witdrawal, and the stab of fear that this was the end of our lovemaking, that she would scream and fight and drive me away, never to return, I had to take a moment to admire her naked torso again. Quite possibly the finest pair of breasts I had ever seen. Certainly the best I’d sucked on for at least a decade. I felt a momentary stab of guilt at the thought, mixed with fear that I would never get to see them again, and I reached out to stroke her hair and whispered soft words of comfort.
“Oh god, Sean, oh god, oh I’m sorry, oh, what am I doing?” she sobbed
She had gone limp, not poised for flight, just overcome by sadness.
I took her in my arms and shushed her and told her it was alright, and rocked her gently and she calmed down and uncovered her face, and clung to me. I held her and rocked her and thought that I should give her tee shirt back to her, and reached for it, but as I brought it up to give it to her she pushed back a little and looked at it and said “What are you doing?”
“I thought you might want to get dressed.”
Katie looked at the shirt in my hand and then back at me, and reached out to grab me by the back of my neck. She kissed me fiercely again, and then suddenly meltingly softly. “No Sean, I don’t want to get dressed. I want to be undressed. Help me.”
She stood up beside the bed and undid her belt, and pulled her heels from her shoes. I was unsure. This maelstrom of emotion left me uncertain what to do. At any moment she could flip again and scream rape. At any moment this could turn from consensual to abusive. I might be damaging her mentally for life. I wasn’t even sure that what I had already done was not harmful.
But I desired her. As she stood semi naked, auburn hair tumbling round her perfect breasts, slim and lithe and sweet smelling, and lovely in every way, I wanted so much to make love with her, to take her in my arms, to possesses her body and soul. I wanted to make her cry out in pleasure. To hear and feel her come. That idea struck me, overwhelmed me, drove me. I reached to help her pull her jeans down.
Katie was in a hurry to strip now, decision made, she took the plunge and pushed her knickers along with her jeans down to her knees.
I saw her perfect thighs and above them the triangle of red curls, her beautiful bush, demanding my touch, my fingers, my mouth, my cock. I sighed in wonder, and she caught her breath and said “Are you okay? Is it alright? I mean, does it look alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t shave it. I know it’s too hairy, but …”
“Perfect, Kate, perfect. Beautiful. Breathtaking.” I said, and tore my glance away to look at her face. “I mean it. You are simply perfect. Never shave it. Never listen to those stupid people. Hair is sexy. It shows you are grown up, not a little girl. A woman. A beautiful, sexy, sexual woman.”
I stood up, to kiss her, and said “So beautiful, my god Kate, you have no idea.”
For a moment we kissed, her almost naked body pressed against my half clad one, my hands on her bottom and the back of her neck, hers on my back, her lips soft against mine again. Her eyes closed, and I felt her body soften, loosen, relax into an eager poise.
I knelt at her feet then, running my hands down from her face over her shoulders, down the length of her arms to her hips and over her naked thighs to the tops of her jeans. I eased one leg off, and then the other, and peeled her socks off as well, leaving her naked. “This is a body worthy of worship, Kate. You have the most perfect breasts, this beautiful stomach, these toned legs, even your feet are pretty, and your hands with those slim fingers. And then there is this.”
I planted a soft kiss on her bush, pressing hard enough to touch the springy mound of flesh beneath. “An ancient poet once said that a woman’s vulva should be mounted on the head of a lion so that only the bravest would be worthy of approaching it. I never agreed before, but now, my glorious goddess, it is true, I am not worthy to worship so wonderful a body, so perfect a pussy.”
I kissed her then, gently, my tongue extending to tease the top of her slit, trying to taste her, to press her clitoris, to penetrate her folds. I pressed my face against her, my nose parting her curls, pushing into her mons. My hands were round onto her perfect bottom, pulling her sex to my mouth.
She gasped, put her hands on my head, surprised and uncertain, but I gave her no time to think. She fell back on the bed and I used the momentum to lift her legs and open them, and to take possession of her with my mouth. I tongued her, a long firm stroke down her lips and back up, opening her, tasting her arousal, penetrating her. When my tongue-tip hit her clitoris she almost leapt in the air and shrieked.
I was relentless. I wanted to devour her. I knew this was all new to her, she had never been touched there by another person, never licked out, fingered or opened, but it wasn’t my first time, and I used every trick I had learned to make this the most thorough and exciting first encounter for her. I wanted her to come. I made her come.
She lay on the bed with her legs apart, and often placed a hand on my head, and she sighed and whimpered and gasped as I explored her and caressed her. She was hesitant at first, unsure and embarrassed, but that passed in moments as I found the hooded clitoris within her amber down, and in five seconds she lost any reservations. Gradually I opened her up, outer labia thick and firm covered in a light down of red hair, inner lips pink and smooth, wet with my saliva and a hint of her own moisture, and then gently pulling them apart to see the entrance to her core, the dark rose centre of her delicate folded flower.
No sign of a hymen. I had seen a virgin girl or two before and knew what one looked like, but I knew that tampons, masturbation and genetics could all account for the lack of that troublesome flap of skin. It was a relief not to have to worry about it, and to find that it was easy enough to dip my tongue-tip inside her depths, and then to follow it with a finger. She moaned. “Oh Sean, oh, is that your finger?”
“Yes, Kate, is it okay?”
“Oh yes. Don’t worry, I can fit two in me, you won’t hurt me.”
I thought that one was tight enough, but I gently worked on it, slowly stretching her opening a little to each side as I slid my finger in and out. She groaned again. I put my thumb on her clit as I probed deeply, and she pushed herself against me, grunting, her rhythm speeding up, and her body suddenly tensed. She was looking at me, staring at me, mouth slightly open, drifting in an out of focus, flexing her spine and hips, arms going rigid as she gripped the duvet beneath her with convulsed fingers. I slid another finger into her tight but slippery pussy and urged her on “You’re close now darling, aren’t you? Come on Kate, come for me, come on.”
A mewling wail, rising in pitch, broken by a gasp and then turning into a series of cries, told me that the crisis was on her. She flailed about and her hands dug into my hair as I sucked and hummed against her clit while my fingers inside felt her contract and pulse. I was flooded with joy and triumph, and that was emphasised when suddenly she dragged me by the hair to kiss her again.
Her arms went round my neck, her thighs clamped around my hand as I still had two fingers inside her, and her lips sought mine. I gripped her hard, and she stayed still for a second before bursting into a storm of kisses and hugs and the words tumbled out of her, incoherent thanks and half finished sentences, random noises and laughter and sobs. In the end she threw her head back and sucked in a great deep breath, and said “Oh God, that was good! Oh That was better than anything, Oh Sean, that was… oh god. Oh. Pheww.” then she looked at me and grinned and and took another breath and said “Can we do that again?”
I laughed and kissed her and moved my fingers slightly in her pussy, half an inch out and back in again, and growled “If you want to,” against her neck as I grazed it with my teeth and closed my lips to suck on her soft flesh. Her body responded as I had thought it would, combined tension and lustful spasm, and she was soon back in a rhythm of hip thrusts and snatched kisses, and crying out to god and me. Her hands this time were on my chest, gripping me and sometimes digging in her nails, and her eyes lost focus again. I speeded up the massage of her pussy, my thumb now inside her, fingers spread over her entire mound and the spread out lips and exposed clitoris. I was sucking her nipple and looking at her eyes, timing my thrusts and sucks with her breathing, and driving her again to the brink. Her second orgasm was as large as the first, and this time she held her breath and turned almost purple as I plundered her body for every sensation.
She ran out of breath, and collapsed, whimpering. She was helpless now, vulnerable, beautiful. I could have simply dropped my trousers and taken her then as she lay half conscious on the bed, pussy wide and wet and so inviting, breasts glistening with a sudden slick of sweat, hair tousled round her head and plastered to her face. I thought of it for a second or two, looking at her body on the bed beneath me as I sat up, knowing this vision of beauty was mine to take. I almost did it, but I had decided that I wanted more. If I took her now I would probably make her come again and come inside her, and it would no doubt be a hell of a ride, but it would be short and wild. Fun, yes, but not perhaps loving. And that would not be good enough.
I wanted her first time to be a moment of love, for her to give it the significance it deserved. She shouldn’t be taken, no matter that she would enjoy that. She should give herself to me. I was confident that she would. She would ask me for my my cock in her. She would kiss it first and hold it, make it hard, and guide it to her, bring me into her, feel every sensation, revel in it consciously and learn to adore it. She would make love, not just get fucked.
So I scooped her up and slid her around and moved the crumpled duvet away, and climbed into the bed and covered us, cuddling her softly, her head under my chin as she lay half on top of me, my arms round her, one leg between mine the other close to me, her breasts and pussy in contact with my body. She relaxed as I stroked her back and whispered about her beauty, and she said “Thank you Sean” as she drifted near to sleep.
Her breathing deepened and became regular. Sleep took her as she lay on my chest, and I stared at the ceiling. A thousand thoughts assailed me. I was not her guardian, but I was in a position of financial power and trust. I didn’t want anyone to think I had exploited that. I was old enough to be her father. Okay, I was ten years younger than her father, but still, it made no difference. I didn’t know if I loved her, if she loved me (except that I knew I did, and that she did, but not like lovers, except now we are lovers, so…) but I knew that I was, and had been, powerfully attracted to her, protective of her, jealous at the thought of a boyfriend, desirous of her, to have her naked, to see her just as I had seen her. I had dreamed of her lying with me like this, naked curled around me. Although in my dreams I was naked too, not wearing jeans and socks and shoes.
What would she think when she woke? Would she be shocked? Ashamed? Would it all be awkward and horrible? How could we go back to being the way we were? I had been a fatherly, avuncular figure, she had been my daughter/niece. Now…
Okay, what if she decided we should date, be a couple, and all that entailed. Did I want that? (Okay, did I want to sleep with her, have sex with her, go all the way and do it again and again? Yes, of course. But be her boyfriend?) She was to go to University. I had a job. How would that work? How could I fit in with a crowd of her contemporary student friends? How for that matter could I keep up? Okay, I’m reasonably fit, reasonably healthy, not overweight, but not nineteen any more. When I passed thirty I started getting dreadful hangovers, and at forty I practically stopped drinking because the pain was not worth the pleasure. I don’t dance, I don’t run or play sports, and while I can pull an all nighter I can’t do it two in a row, so all weekend partying (those were the days!) is out. I couldn’t live that life. And how would she fit into the life I had – I still socialised with her parents friends and contemporaries.
But what if she came to and came to her senses? What if she looked at me now and thought about what we had done and she saw me as the dirty old man I thought I was. I took advantage of an innocent eighteen year old girl, in emotional distress, stripped her and used her, and okay, didn’t fuck her, but …
What would Bill have said? (Cricket bat to the head? Or glass of scotch and a quiet talk?) Jackie. What would Jackie say? (jealous, maybe, which is sort of thrilling, but even if she understood me, and understood Katie, and she could be so wise, would she approve?) Was it just wishful thinking for me to imagine that they might have thought I was worthy of their daughter’s love? Of her virginity?
Oh hell, what have I done?
She stirred, and I decided to help her wake. I squeezed her shoulder and rocked her a little, and said “Kate. You okay Kate?”
She stirred again, and her limp body drew up tone and tension, and then she stretched and hugged me. In a sleepy voice she said “Uh-huh. Fine.”
I breathed again.
She threw the cover back and raised her head, sweeping the hair back from her face. She half focussed, and gave a lazy, lovely smile. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I replied. “You fell asleep.”
“Hmmn, yeah. Sorry,” she said, still half awake.
“No, don’t apologise, it was lovely. Its a long time since someone fell asleep in my arms. I liked it.”
She propped her head up, coming awake. “I liked it too.” her eyes glittered as she looked at me properly. “I liked all of it. How about you?”
I smiled “What about me?”
She looked serious suddenly, almost scared. “Did you, did you like it? Was it okay?”
I had to hold her, cuddle her, kiss her forehead and smile and sigh and say “Oh Kate, it was wonderful. Not just Okay, it was lovely. You are lovely. Thank you.”
She had tears in her eyes again and she moved up the bed and touched my face “Are you sure? I mean, I just realised, you, I mean we didn’t really. I mean, you were awfully nice to me, but, you… I didn’t…”
I hugged her again, “Don’t be silly Kate. That was lovely. I had a very good time. It was, I can’t explain, it was a privilege and a great pleasure. You are beautiful girl, Kate, and I enjoyed every moment.”
I kissed her lips then, a soft, short kiss, and then looked in her eyes as I said “Thank you for letting me make love to you. It was truly wonderful.”
She blushed. She looked down, and then up, and then said “Thank you,” and kissed me again. “Thank you for making love with me Sean.” She kissed me again “But you don’t get away that easily.” She kissed me again, lips a little softer and more open. “I want more than this Sean.” Her kiss this time was longer, and she sucked a little at my lip. “I, I’ve seen pictures, you know. I’ve seen videos, on the web. I know what to do. I know what you want to do.” She kissed me again, a tiny kiss, and drew back enough to look at me with passionate eyes. “I, I want that too, Sean, I want to do it all.”
Her hand snaked down across my stomach as she said that, and straight into my trousers, into my pants, onto my semi-hard cock. She took it in her hand and hesitantly held it, and looked at me in that moment of still, shocked silence.
My cock swelled, I breathed out. “Oh, Kate, you, you, oh, god.”
I pulled her face to me with both hands, and kissed her long and well. My hips knew their own mind, and moved my cock in her hand, and she took up the movement. She was wanking me in her soft little hand, and her tongue was in my mouth.
I was powerless to resist, had no thought of even trying. It was bliss, it was heaven, it was pleasure without limit. I think I may have been the one to start undoing my belt, but she was definitely the one who pulled my trousers down to my thighs, and my underpants. Once free of the constriction of my clothes my cock and balls were open to her caress, all still beneath the cover of the duvet, while she kissed me and I gasped and jerked and sighed. Then she sat up, taking the duvet with her, exposing my nakedness at the same time as letting me see her perfect form. She looked down at me, at the hard cock in her hand, and slowly moved my foreskin up and down, covering and exposing my glans that glistened with the sticky result of her ministrations.
Katie cooed. “Oooh. It’s, well, it’s pretty. And wet. I didn’t think it would be wet.”
I said “Thank you. The wet stuff is because you have got me very turned on. It is like girls get wet, but with boys there is usually not as much. But you got me turned on a lot, for a long time.”
“Oh.” she smiled. “That’s good then. Oh, you still have your shoes on!”
“Sorry, I was a bit distracted when I was getting in here with you.”
She laughed, and let go of my cock, and slipped out of the bed and round to my feet, and started to undo the laces. “Here, let’s get rid of these. And the socks, and here, lift your legs, that’s it,” she said as she pulled on the ends of my jeans and drew them off me. Then she reached for my pants, and pulled them down, off my feet, leaving me naked and lying full length on her bed for the first time. She bit her lower lip and raised an eyebrow.
“You alright?” I asked.
She smiled. “Oh yes. Just looking. I just thought, ‘You are naked.’ You are the first naked man I’ve ever seen, for real.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask if I live up to expectations.”
She blushed a little. “I know that porn pictures are faked up and not real, so, well, I wasn’t sure what to expect really.”
She moved closer, sitting down by my thigh, looking down at my cock, running her hand along my leg from below the knee up to an inch from my balls. “But I’d have to say, well, for one thing there is a lot more hair.”
I snorted a laugh, she glanced up with a smile “Not that it’s a bad thing. I just never thought about it. Those guys must shave, or wax. I suppose it is like what you said about girls thinking they ought to shave. But now I think about it the shaved ones look like my little cousin Tim’s one on the beach last summer. Hairy does look more grown up. Manly. Scary.”
She flashed a smile “Not too scary though.” She reached out and very gently stroked the hair on my balls, and up around to my cock. “And then there is this,” she said, lifting my cock straight up. “Which is beautiful.” She gave me a swift smile before looking back at it, and bending down to more closely observe it. “I wasn’t expecting the skin to be so soft. And it isn’t as rigid as I expected, it is a little bendy and squidgy. Which us good, because I know what I’m supposed to do with it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, and then gave a little gasp as she stroked up and down on my cock a few times. “Although maybe I shouldn’t ask that since you obviously do know what to do with it.”
She smiled “Thank you. Although I’m not really sure, you know. Please tell me if you want me to do anything different, I’m just doing what the girls do in the films. But I meant, I know it is supposed to go inside me, and it seems awfully big. Bigger than two fingers. Bigger than my hairbrush handle. If it wasn’t flexy I’d be worried it would be too big.”
“You know that was a very flattering thing to say.” I said, grinning.
She looked up at me, puzzled. “Why?”
“Well, I think every man thinks at some time that he would like his cock to be bigger. I’m pretty confident, I’ve been with a few women and I think I haven’t disappointed anyone, but it is nice to hear that it is big enough. I mean, I know I would never get cast in a porn movie, and from what you have said, you have seen a few of those. It’s nice to know you are okay about it.”
She laughed. “Those guys in porn films are freaks. Or fakes. I watched one with Mandy once and you could see the join where they stuck the rubber end on.”
She was still stroking me gently and it was very pleasant and distracting, but I had to ask “Have you watched a lot of porn films?”
“No. Not much I think. A few. I got curious and looked on the net a few times, but not often. They all seemed much the same really. But they did turn me on. And they did make me wonder about doing this.” Kate leaned down and took the head of my cock in her mouth.
It was warm and soft and unexpected, and her tongue smoothed around it and she sucked gently as she moved her head down to take more of the shaft. She looked up at me with smiling eyes as I struggled to control my breathing. It was her first blow job. It was very good.
She sucked me and wanked me, and her free hand cradled my balls, and she moved round to kneel on the bed between my knees. I touched her head lightly, not to control her movement but just to confirm the reality of what was happening. She looked up at me again and pulled my cock out, continuing to wank me, as she said “Is there anything you would like me to do?”
“Carry on. You are doing fine.”
She opened her mouth again and plunged me into it, pushing down further than before, soon taking almost all of me inside, her nose touching my stomach. In a series of long strokes of her head she took it deep again and again. The temptation to grab her head, take over on the rhythm, thrust into her, dominate her, was great, but I resisted. To lie back and be pampered in this way, have a beautiful young woman bring me pleasure so unselfconsciously, was wonderful.
Even more so when she licked down my shaft and started licking my balls.
I was torn. I love having my balls licked (who doesn’t?) and it makes me come pretty fast. And I didn’t want to do anything to make this girl afraid or embarrassed, to rush her or force her, so it would be easy to lie back and just let go, and let her bring me off. But I also wanted more. I wanted to take her, now, to put my aching cock in her soft ginger pussy, to be and to come deep inside her body.
I decided to let her know just how good she was, and let her decide what to do. “Katie, you will make me come if you keep that up.”
She brought her head up. “Oh. If you come you’ll go soft won’t you? And then we won’t be able to, you know, do it?”
“Well, for a while, but you can get me hard again in ten minutes, or half an hour, by doing what you are doing again.”
“Oh. Not long then. But. If you come now can you come again later?”
I almost laughed – she looked so serious – it was the most intimate and innocent and ridiculous discussion to have, with her worried frown and her pretty face an inch from my cock. “With you? Yes. You are too gorgeous. You’ll make me come again.”
“Oh.” she said, and looked hesitant “I want to try sucking you when you come. I want to taste it. Mandy says it’s nice. But, I want to try other things, and I want you to come in me. I want you to make love to me properly. Could we do that first?”
I would have laughed for the sheer absurdity of the anxious, pleading look on her face. This virgin teenage angel was practically begging me to have sex with her, and looking worried that I might not want to!
“Come up here and kiss me, Katie” I said, and guided her lips to mine by holding her face in both my hands.
Just as our lips were about to touch I said softly “I want you Kate. I want to make love to you. I want to put my cock in you and come in you.”
She shivered with emotion as I kissed her, and her arms gripped me. Her body was against mine, and she straddled me. I felt her press her crotch down onto my hard shaft, and she rubbed herself back and forth. My cock was opening up her lips, her clitoris pressing against my flesh, and another shiver went through her.
I knew she might easily wriggle until I penetrated her. And she had said she wanted me to come in her. But I was not so overborne by lust that I had no thought of consequence.
“Have you any condoms?” I asked. “I have some in my room.”
She raised her face and looked at me as she slowly ground her hips, and said “Don’t worry, Sean, I’ve been on the pill for a year now. You can come in me. Come into me. Now. Make love to me.”
She rolled over, pulling me with her, spreading her legs and reaching for my cock. I glanced down to see her wriggling into position, bringing her pussy to touch my tip. She pushed it down and then up, rubbing it against herself, covering it with her own wetness, spreading her lips around it. A momentary image of her golden red curls and pale pink flesh surrounding my dark purple cock head, and the feeling of that soft enveloping embrace was burned forever into my mind.
I let my eyes travel up her body, memorising every detail of her perfect form. Her bulging mound with its russet hair, the smooth pale skin of her stomach, the delicate navel, the rise of her ribcage and the swell of her breasts, nipples hard and dark and pointed, the slight flush of her neck and the beauty of her face, lips open and flushed, eyes sparkling, hair awry in a crimson halo. Her long slim legs were spread wide, her arms reaching up to pull me down onto her so willing body.
I pressed a little with my hips and she arched her back and drew in air, her eyes never leaving mine, as I penetrated her. An inch, into tight warm smoothness. I held position and whispered “Okay?”
She nodded wordlessly, and I pulled back a fraction, then pushed again, and she moaned and raised her legs, and I was three inches deep, and could feel her body clenching me, ripples of tension and softness. “You are beautiful, Katie.” I murmured, and drew back a couple of inches, then pressed again.
Four deep now, I could lower myself to my elbows, chest touching her naked breasts, her arms coming round my back. I kissed her softly, and she sighed, and I rocked back and forward, and she sighed again. “Oh, Sean, oh that is lovely.”
I began to rock a little more, pulling out a couple of inches and slowly pressing in again, as I replied “Yes, Katie love, it is lovely, you are lovely, oh, my lovely girl that is good, that feels good.”
My hips sped up of their own accord, and hers began to move in counter sync, and suddenly as she lifted her legs up and I pressed down I was all the way inside her, my balls against her ass, the root of my cock against her clit, stomach to stomach, as deep as I could go.
She gasped, I groaned, she clutched my shoulders and I pressed into her firmly, holding her there. “That’s it Katie, that’s all the way in, all of me inside you.”
“Oh God. Oh it feels good. Oh yes.” She was rigid, with her eyes wide, but after a moment she relaxed, and moved her legs. She lowered them, making me withdraw an inch, then raised them again and pulled me into her. “Oh, yes. Oh, Sean, oh do that again.”
I did. I was deeply shafting her. My cock was stroking into her pussy, which was firm and slick, gripping me and pulling at me. It was a long time since I had a teenage body in my arms, and round my cock, but it was as good as I remembered. Smooth thighs, soft breasts bouncing, the smell of her sweat and sweet pussy juices, the taste of her throat and mouth, the feel of her muscles, her skin, her arms and back and bottom and shoulders. Her lips on my neck and shoulders and sucking my nipple when I raised myself on my arms again to get a deeper swing of my hips. I watched her breasts rocking back and forth in time as I slammed my cock into her, and heard her gasp with each stroke. She was writhing beneath me, her body forcing itself into my cock, and she started moaning, almost chanting “Oh, yes, yes, oh, oh, yes, yes, oh.”
It was intoxicating. It was almost surreal. I had a flicker of disbelief, an ‘am I dreaming?’ moment. Beneath me was a fantasy girl, the stuff of middle aged crisis, a girl I had quietly burned for, imagined doing this, but never believed she would. Indeed my imagination had never been so wild. She was a lustful virgin with no limits, abandoned to the pleasure of her body, and every move I made, every trick and technique, every new caress or change in pace was welcomed, absorbed, added to her building orgasm.
I could almost have come right then, just watching her lithe form spread out for me to penetrate, to come into. But I held the urge in check, and went for the greater pleasure. I drove her to come. I drove her to orgasm with my cock in her pussy, to let me feel her body clasp and pulse on my cock, for the first time, and then to do it again. I licked and sucked her nipples and her earlobes, her throat and shoulders and her armpits, the inner elbow, her wrists and fingers. I pulled her leg upright and held her thigh in one hand, pulling back on her as I sank my cock as deep as it could go and sucked her toes. That made her scream, and gasp and run out of air, and almost faint. She was brought round when I shifted position so she was on her side and I was straddling her lower leg, and penetrated her again, but now I could massage her clitoris and her breasts with my left hand while the right stroked her back and legs and buttocks, and into the cleft between them to find the soft and sensitive flesh that was concealed there.
I rubbed a finger around the lower part of her pussy lips, feeling my shaft sliding in and out. I caressed her perineum, and round her ass, slick with her juices and found the soft opening that had never been touched and gently circled it and gently pressed against it and gently vibrated it and gently spread it and gently put my finger tip into it and gently pulsed and shook and pushed in deeper and gently held still as her body clamped down on my finger and my cock as she shrieked another orgasm.
I slipped my finger from her, and rolled her on her back and took possession of her body again. Now I would come. Now I would let myself follow what my cock and balls demanded. Now I would pour myself into her, drive myself inside her, empty my heart and soul in this lovely, loving and loved young woman.
It was wild and mad.
I let go of myself, and she realised that this was different. I wasn’t holding back, and it was my pleasure that drove me. I was an animal, ravishing her, but she wasn’t scared, because she knew now what it meant to be that free, that instinct driven. She had been there, and knew that this was a moment of vulnerability and trust. That I was at her mercy. And she wanted that.
She urged me on. She place her hands on my bottom and threw her kegs wide and she pulled me into her, thrust back against me, followed my increasingly ragged breathing, and demanded more. “Come in me Sean, come on, that’s it, of Sean that’s it, oh take me Sean, oh come in me, come on, yes Sean oh yes, come darling, come in me lover, oh come in me, Yes!”
I drove deep and hard and crushed the breath from her as I felt my balls contract and my cock twitch and the come rushing out of me and the wave of dark and light that rolled over my body and emptied my mind.
Then I gasped for breath, and my body gave way, and I slumped on top of her, and we rolled together, kissing and snatching air and hugging and laughing and eventually lying naked aide by side on our backs, holding hands and taking a silent moment to relax.
She broke the silence with a small voice. “Is it always like that?”
“Well, in my experience, no. I’d have to say, for me, that was pretty exceptional. I mean, that was really great. And I think you seemed to be having a good time too. Yes?”
In the same little voice she said “Oh, yes. I had a good time.”. Then she took a deep breath, and shivered, and said in a louder voice “Whoah,” and rolled over to cuddle me for a second and then raised her head and looked onto my eyes, and I saw stars in hers.
“I’ve heard other girls talking about it. And some have said how good it can be. But one night at a party there was a whole gang of us and one of the girls talked about her first time. And then another, and another, and it went round the group. Half of us hadn’t done it, but the rest, seven or eight, all had. And half of them had a really bad time. Pain and bleeding, and rough boys. That’s why I decided to use the hairbrush on me, so it wouldn’t hurt. And the rest all said how it was over in no time. And one girl, only one, said she came. I came Sean. I don’t know how many times. It wasn’t like anything I had ever heard about. Even when the girls talk about the good sex.”
I had to smile. Well, grin widely, to be honest. “I’m glad you had a good time. I wanted it to be good for you. I suspect those girls have only been with boys who don’t know much. There are some advantages to being with an old man.”
“But you’re not old, Sean.” she said, and sounded sincere.
“Up until about last Christmas you called me ‘Uncle Sean,’ and you know I am, as they say, well old enough to be your father, Kate.”
“Yes, Sean. And up to this morning you always called me ‘Katie’ and I am older than my mother was when she got engaged to dad, who was years older than her then.”
“Well, yes he was nearly ten years older, and I think that raised some eyebrows. And everyone was sceptical when they got married. They all said she was too young, but I’m twenty years older than you, it is a big difference. Also, I am trustee for your estate. Some people might think I had taken advantage of your vulnerability,” I said.
“But Mum wasn’t too young. They were happy. She loved him and he loved her.” Kate (or Katie) looked at me seriously. “I’m not asking you to marry me Sean. But I don’t want you to think that this is just a silly girl thing. Or that you have seduced and taken advantage of a child in your care. I’m not a child. And I have been thinking about this, and about you, for a long time. Since before I stopped calling you ‘uncle.'”
I hugged her, because she looked to petulant and a little worried. “Darling Kate. You are a beautiful, wilful and wonderful young woman. But what happens now?”
“We’ll see,” she said, and smiled. “But first we are going to get dressed and go out for a huge meal, because I am starving. And I want champagne.”
“Whatever you want, Kate. Whatever you want.” I said, smiling.