All the Right Moves

Carol was 21 and I was 18 when she came to stay with us.

We had been neighbors since the day I was born, a skinny, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy and she was a freckled redhead. Carol and I were the youngest of our respective families and she was the only girl, which meant her brothers would play with my brothers and the two of us were left to amuse ourselves. At first it was children’s books and board games. Later we played in her father’s barn or walked through the woods to swim in a small pond, partners in crime. As we grew older I noticed her budding breasts and she teased me about my teenage mustache. My family moved away when I was 12 but our folks were such good friends, they stayed in touch.

Five years later she had grown tired of living in ‘the sticks.’ Her parents knew there were better opportunities in the city and my parents agreed to take her in. She moved into the bedroom across the hall from mine on the second floor. Mom and dad slept downstairs, where they could have their own bathroom.

On the day she arrived I was stunned. Her red hair had darkened and her blue eyes pierced me. She was still Carol but she’d grown from cute to gorgeous. We were about the same height and medium build and she now had very nice round bottom and a well-filled bra. I overheard my dad and our neighbor talking one day, describing her as having “just enough padding in just the right places.” I must have matured well enough because she gave me “the look” once in a while, although I have to admit I was too naive to figure it out. Something was up. I just didn’t know what.

Carol made friends easily but when she was home she always had time to hang out with me, usually in my room, listening to music or just talking. One of my hobbies was bicycling, which kept me lean if not muscular. Another was chess and one day Carol asked me to teach her the game. “Show me some moves.” I don’t know if she was really interested or if it was just a ruse but I took her up on on it. My friends were jealous that I could spend any time with someone so hot.

“Come on, man, you gotta get some!”

“No, it’s not like that.” We were all virgins, even though we wouldn’t admit it.

“Nothing? Don’t you even get to see it?”

“Well, maybe a little,” I lied. “I saw one of her tits.”

“No way! How was it?”

“Pretty nice. Really nice. Just the one, though, when her bedroom door was open. She was, like, turned sideways and had her shirt off.” I sort of embellished a little but not enough to cause any trouble. I really liked her and didn’t want them to think she was a slut.

In my chess set, the Rook was an elephant with a turret on his back. She liked to park him next to the Queen, as if he wanted to put his trunk under her skirt. She liked to make jokes about the other pieces too, like, “Boy the bishop sure looks some kind of sex toy, doesn’t he?” Or, “My favorite is the Knight. What’s a more masculine symbol than a leaping stallion?”

I didn’t mind. She actually was learning to play and she didn’t mind that I usually let her win. She couldn’t manage to out maneuver me on the board but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a strategy. In the beginning she wore casual everyday clothes, like jeans and t-shirts – typical for midwestern summers, and I could swear her nipples were hard more often than not. Then it was tank tops with no bra. Later, cutoff shorts with halter tops and she often would lean forward, studying the board closely and giving me plenty of time to steal a look down at her breasts. They were C-cups, I’m pretty sure and it was damned hard to concentrate as she sat cross-legged across from me. More than once we would finish a game and go to our separate beds and I would masturbate before going to sleep, fantasizing about how she might look naked. I was no stranger to pornography but this was a real live woman who apparently did not mind if I stared at her cleavage. Her shorts were so short, I could almost see a bit of pubic hair as she shifted on the floor, allegedly just getting comfortable. At least I imagined I could, and I certainly did try. Her pajamas were another story. Not silk but something like it. I swore I could see through them but it was also probably just wishful thinking.

One night I went down the hall to the bathroom and on the way back to my room she opened her door and walked right into me. By accident. Maybe. There I was in nothing but boxers and as we bumped into each other, I KNEW she was naked under that thin film of cloth. I actually felt one of her nipples against my chest and the swell of her hip against my soft cock for a second.

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“Sorry,” I stammered, “didn’t see you there.” I would have been both mortified and thrilled if I had been erect at that moment.

“My fault,” she said with a smile. “Good night.” Something about the way she looked at me sent a mild current up my spine.

“Good night.” As we passed each other she gave a playful squeeze on my left butt cheek and the mild current became a bolt of lightning. By the time I got back to my room I had a raging hardon.

The next night we played chess. This time she wore a pink tube top with nothing underneath and it conformed perfectly to her bust. Better yet, a pair of thin, filmy, clingy running shorts completed her outfit. I swear, I could see a perfect outline of her pussy. She won two games in a row, each one lasting less than five minutes.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a grin.

“Uh, yeah. I, uh… You’re getting pretty good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“The game. Chess.”

She smiled. “Yeah, the game. Go again?”

“You’re killing me tonight.” It was true on so many levels.

She laughed. “Get some sleep, you.” With that she stood up and her crotch was at eye level for a few seconds. Any closer and I could have gotten my first sniff.

I stood up “Maybe I’ll… read for a little bit.”

She winked, “Yeah, maybe I’ll do a little something like that, too. Good night.”

“Good night.”

She walked past me very slowly. To this day I remember how her ass swayed as she left the room.

I closed the door, undressed, and flopped onto my bed.

Shit, I thought. Did that really happen? I was hard as a rock. For three months she had been trying to show me as much as she could without actually taking anything off. Was she testing me or was she just teasing me? Or was she really interested in me?

My fingers played lightly over my shaft.

What the hell do I do? Does she want me to make a move? I didn’t even know what a move was. I hadn’t dated yet because I was so damned nervous around women. Maybe she’ll make the first move, I hoped. That would make things easier. No, you idiot, she already made the first move. Shit, now what do I do?

I don’t know how long I stared at the ceiling with my hand on my dick. I thought about every inch of her body, every curve, every look she gave me. I finally turned off the light, with no idea what to do. Moments later there was a light knock on the door and I just about hit the ceiling. I pulled the sheet over myself.

“Come in.” I hoped I didn’t sound nervous.

“I noticed your light is off, figured you were probably done reading.” She had left her door open, light off, and waited for my room to go dark before she made her approach. I could imagine the smile on her face. I could hear it in her voice. I liked it.

“Uh, yeah. Done for the night.” Now that we both knew what was going on, I wasn’t quite so nervous.

“Push over.”

“Huh?”

“Make room, silly.”

I whipped the sheet off and slid over a bit. I felt her settle onto the bed and the next thing I knew she was lying on her side, pressed up against me, totally naked. I could feel every inch of her body touching mine. I felt hot and cold at once. One breast topped with a hard nipple pressed into my bicep and the other breast spilled over my arm as she reached down and fondled me, lightly stroking, touching my nuts, running her nails lightly up the shaft and continuing to my chest.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?” I couldn’t answer, which was all the answer she needed.

“Relax. It’s going to be fine, we just have to be quiet.” No problem there, I couldn’t even speak.

She climbed on top and settled down onto me, her breasts feeling wonderful against my chest, my cock tickled by her pubic hair, trapped under her mound, and she kissed me on the lips – another first for me.

“What do I do?”

“Shhh. Just let me handle it for now.” I put my arms around her, sliding my palms down her back, coming to rest on her hips.

“That’s good,” she whispered, “that’s fine.” She shifted a little and guided my penis inside her, just the head. I gasped at such an unbelievable sensation. The heat from her lips drove me wild. “Hold still, ok?

“MMmmm…!”

She giggled. “Ok so far?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Jesus!”

She slid down a bit, taking me deeper. “We’re going to go slow.” She stopped when I was about halfway in. “Kiss me. Like this.” She opened her mouth and slipped her tongue into mine. I followed her lead and my first French kiss was burned into my memory. “Not bad,” she said. “You’ll get there.” She moved down further taking all of me and stopped again. She knew I wouldn’t last long and wanted to go slowly. I couldn’t believe the way it felt, this hot, wet, tight coupling of ours. I could hardly believe I was inside her. No one could know, which made it even more exciting.

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Then she began to move up and down, slowly. Kissing my throat, tickling my ears with her tongue, stroking my manhood with her pussy. Milking me with her sex. I think I lasted about five strokes. I felt an odd tickle in my balls, grunted, and came so hard it scared me: Breathing like a freight train, my pulse pounding in my ears, my whole body seemed to throb. She held me tight with her arms and her legs, as if to squeeze every drop out as my spasms subsided. Then she relaxed and I caught my breath. “How was that?” she asked. For all of the times I had jacked off, this orgasm was lightyears better than any of the others.

“Un.. real.” I gasped. “Unbelievable.” The whole experience blew my mind, as if the universe had collapsed and there was nothing left but the two of us. “Can we go again?” What I didn’t know (but she did) was the second orgasm always takes longer than the first. We were just getting warmed up.

“Oh, we’re going again, mister. Now it’s my turn to teach YOU some moves!”

We went again. This time she taught me about foreplay; how to finger her pussy and get her warmed up. How the nipples are far more sensitive after they become hard and could send jolts of pleasure through her body. “Women love it when you take care of them first.” I learned how to rub her clitoris, gently at first. Then she told me to get on top and helped guide my prick into her. This time I lasted longer before I came and she whispered, “Keep going, I’m almost there!” She came quietly, burying her face in my chest and whimpering in pleasure. The whole experience was so erotic I never went soft (you can do that when you’re 18!). “Got one more in ya?” she asked, fondling my slick cock.

“I think I can manage,” I answered with a confidence that surprised me.

This time she rolled onto her stomach and spread her legs “This is one of my favorites,” she said. “It feels so nice to be sort of blanketed by a good man.” She reached underneath to guide me in once more and fondled my scrotum as I stroked in and out, slowly. I loved the way her ass cheeks felt against my hips and she enjoyed the way I kissed the back of her neck. “Oohhh… yes.” She came again, her face in the pillow this time. Two orgasms for her that night, which I thought was pretty good considering I had no clue. I guess she taught me well. I buried myself to the hilt and gave up my last load for the night, as if I wanted to bury my entire body inside hers, then I rolled off and we caught our breath. “You know I can’t sleep here, right? We both need to wake up in our own beds.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” If anyone found out we were sleeping together, it would not have ended well. I got up because I needed to pee.

“Could you get me a towel, baby?” The smell of sex was intoxicating and in a way it told me my life had changed. I walked naked to the bathroom, feeling like a man and brought a towel so we could clean up a bit before she went back to her bed. She kissed me and left. I lay awake for a while, marveling at the reality, the significance of what had just happened.

We never had sex again but we were so much closer after that it didn’t matter. We often exchanged “The Look” discreetly, treasuring our secret, knowing we had nothing more to prove. She gave me advice on how to treat women, how to dress for a date, how to interpret the subtle clues they give. Her job search had been difficult and I gave her an ear or a shoulder when she needed one.

I think fate draws people away from each other as easily as it drew them together sometimes and I’m grateful to her for showing me what sex is really about. In October she landed a decent job and moved to another city. She wasn’t far away but we never saw each other again. The day she left we shared a long hug and said our goodbyes without shedding a tear, as if we knew our time had passed.

Updated: April 16, 2018 — 3:49 AM

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