*Author’s Note: This is the second part of “Blowing Joe” but can be read as a stand-alone story. I’m quite certain a discerning reader can fill in any holes that need filling…
Jason would be at class between three and six, and I knew this. And his younger brother Joe, my future conquest, would be home alone, and I knew this, too — if for no other reason than that I had promised to come back today to relieve him of his virginity after giving him his first blow job last night. I could picture him, all jumpy nervousness, those big chocolate eyes and warm olive skin, those full lips, his cock hard all day in anticipation. Or maybe not. He was a chronic masturbator, not that it mattered, because I’d already learned he had no trouble rising to the occasion time and time again. So yes, safe to say his cock was likely hard, and he was certainly nervous.
I dressed with care. I wanted it to be as much fun for me as it was for him, and I was nervous as well — just a tad, as every girl is when she gives herself to someone for the first time, particularly if she’s set a precedent of amazing oral skills. I had to feel hot and know that I was showing him a good time, even a fantasy, without being too cheesy about it.
I started by slipping into a lacy thong, hot pink, which was a great complement to my skin, and a matching lace pushup bra which was uncomfortable for daily wear but just what this particular occasion called for. Over the lace I donned a black tank top, a tight black sweater, ass-hugging jeans, and knee-high, black leather high-heeled boots. The boots were my favorite part of the outfit and I hoped that with some imagination Joe might just be convinced to allow me to keep the boots on. That thought made me smile as I looked myself over, fluffed my hair, donned a scarf and jacket, and headed to my car.
On the way out to my car, our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Dempsey, who was not used to seeing me dress in anything other than fashionable but modest casual wear, frowned a bit from her front yard, which told me I was right on target. She probably thought I’d turned into a wanton whore in college, which was far from the truth. I was the girl in my dorm with the reputation for being a fun friend but not much of a partier, and that’s just how I wanted things. I didn’t want to be thought of as a slut just because I enjoyed sex, and I didn’t think my private business was anyone else’s.
So I headed to Joe and Jason’s. Joe answered on the third knock, his eyes wide, looking very boyish despite his nineteen years and 6′ muscular frame. He looked me over and his face was as easy to read. Oh, I loved the innocent ones…so easy to please…
“Hey!” I said cheerfully. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be home, but I figured Jason might.”
“Um…” He looked confused. “No, Jason’s in class.” You could see the wheels turning: Did she forget? Was she kidding? Did she not say she was coming over here to fuck me today? Is this not going to happen?
“I see…” I said suggestively, looking around the living room. “So, all alone, huh?”
I forgot that conversation was not going to work with this one. He was not a talker. It would be a wasted, painful exercise for both of us.
“Got any more of that beer?” I asked, looking over at the bottle on the end table next to where he’d been sitting — playing video games, from the looks of it. He nodded, visibly relieved to have a task, and went off to the kitchen as I shrugged out of my jacket, unwound my scarf, and draped both on the back of the couch. I unzipped my boots so I could take them off. He heard the zip and paused in the kitchen, just for a fraction of a second.
This was going to be fun.
I pulled of my sweater and tossed it toward the kitchen doorway and heard him pause again after it dropped on the floor. And then he was out with the beer in his hand, the most imperceptible trembling that would have given him away even if his face hadn’t. But that face was an open book. An open book that said, I am going to see this woman naked. And possibly have sex with her. This is really happening.
“Thanks for the beer,” I said, as he walked toward me still somewhat uncertainly.
“Sure.” He walked up to me, two bottles in his hand, got close enough to hand me one of them, and then came just a step closer. And I closed my hand over his, pulled him to me, and whispered, “Let’s take these beers to your room.”
He nodded and I followed him to his bedroom, which was sparsely decorated and neat as a pin. Freshly vacuumed. He’d burned a scented candle in there recently but blown it out as to not appear presumptuous. Very good. He’d made an effort.
Once in the bedroom, he closed the door behind me and I got a better look at the room. And then at him, standing expectantly in the doorway, that face of his never settling on an emotion but rather flashing through them all — fear, lust, hope, excitement — cracking his knuckles awkwardly, unable to even begin. I turned to him slowly and pulled him to me by the waistband of his jeans, grazing my fingertips across his firm stomach just a touch as I did.
And then I kissed him. Just a soft kiss, a beginning kiss, but I quickly remembered why I’d had such a good time the night before. Joe took that kiss and ran with it. He pulled me in tighter, one hand in my hair, one cupping my ass, and just went for it. I was breathless when he left my mouth and started kissing down my neck. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, and down into my cleavage, burying his face there. “Mmm, I love these big tits,” he moaned between my breasts, licking into the crevice and peeling my straps down at the same time, shoving the lace cups aside with his fingers and springing my ample globes free so he could pinch and suck my nipples.
So much for lingerie, I thought, but it wasn’t a complaint. He was clearly enjoying himself and so was I. Though not particularly skillful, he was the perfect balance between gentle and a bit rough, and he certainly made up for in enthusiasm what he lacked in experience.
Somehow this shy virgin had fumbled with the clasp of my bra successfully enough to remove it — and my tank top — by pulling both in a jumble over my head, leaving me in only jeans, my hair tumbling around his face while he continued to lick and suck and pinch and nip my sensitive breasts. It felt amazing, and my knees grew a little weak as he continued worshiping my bare tits.
“Joe,” I gasped. We were still standing up against the door, and I wasn’t so sure how long I could remain on my feet. “Let’s go to your bed.”
He half-dragged me to the bed, then peeled my jeans from me and hastily shed his own clothes. Within mere seconds he was completely naked in front of me, his beautiful cock standing at attention, while I lay on the bed in just my thong. He crawled onto the bed and kissed me again, climbing on top of me so that he was resting between my thighs, pulling my hips to him and hooking one arm under my bent leg to gain better access. I could feel his hard cock pressed against the thin fabric, rubbing against my swollen clit, making me moan. He had to feel how incredibly soaked I was, slick with the psychological excitement of playing this whole thing out as well as the purely sexual arousal of his strong, hard body and thick virgin cock.
My moans spurred him on. He tugged the thong to the side, slid his fingers into me, gasping as he met with the liquid fire of my need for him. Just a bit too rough, too urgent, though, and I put my hand over his and whispered, as I moved his fingers where I wanted them, “Rub my clit. Gentle.” And after he settled into a nice rhythm I wrapped my hand around his swollen shaft and stroked him firmly, no teasing, just jacking him like I meant business, closing my fingers over the head of his cock now and then to lubricate my hand with his pre-cum.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered in my ear as I worked him, “Oh, fuck, that feels so good.”
I watched him as we touched each other. His eyes were closed, and his face was still beautifully flushed through the olive skin. He was enjoying himself and still remembering about me, his strong fingers strumming my sensitive nub and bringing me to the edge of orgasm. I was so close but didn’t want to cum yet, so I covered his fingers with my own and slid them deep inside my pussy, bringing him to a slower rhythm, his two thick fingers into my core, until he groaned, “I want to fuck you. I want my cock inside you now,” and with far greater ease than I would’ve expected of him, guided his beautiful cock to the opening of my cunt, nudging at me with just the tip for a few seconds, before he penetrated me fully, filling me with his girth.
I was losing my mind with sexual bliss, his perfect cock inside me, his incredible body over me, those full lips on my own. He was fucking me slowly, just how I liked, taking his time with each stroke, like a perfectionist, each one just the same as the one before. And he was watching my face as I writhed on his bed, panting, tossing my head back and forth, gasping, “Oh, Joe…Joe…oh, fuck…right there, just like that, don’t stop.” My orgasm was surging and he picked up speed, pounding into me now, nice and deep, whispering my name in my ear, fucking me faster, urging me to cum, the only thing outside of my body that I was aware of anymore.
And I broke first, little cries in my throat, “Joe…God…oh, God…I’m cumming…I’m…” and then a string of incoherent sounds and whimpers as it washed over me. His own orgasm was right behind mine, and he choked back my name as he exploded inside me and collapsed on top of me, his face buried in the crook of my neck, breathing heavily. My pussy still spasmed weakly against his semi-erect cock, which had slipped out but was still pressed against me. I tried to catch my breath and shuddered.
“Holy shit,” I murmured. “God damn, Joe.”
He licked my neck and wrapped his hand around my breast in response.
“You’re a natural,” I gasped as he moved down my neck to suckle my nipple.
He said nothing, just continued to suck and gently nibble my nipples, which by this point were sensitive almost to the point of mild pain.
I was conscious of the fact that he was still semi-erect. I was also incredibly thirsty, so I asked him to hand me my beer. He smiled and reached for it (oh, his arm and the stretch of his side…watching men reach for things had always turned me on), then teasingly ran the frigid bottle over my nipple, the cold condensation sliding onto my puckered peak. I squealed and tried to wriggle away, but he had me firm in his grasp. He tipped the bottle to my lips so I could take a few swallows and then took a couple quick swigs himself, then set the bottle back and began kissing me again, that perfect tentativeness building back up to utter confidence as he did. His cock was thickening against me and the taste of the beer in his mouth combined with of his clean male scent drove me wild. I was wet again, or still wet, who knows. But I yanked down the soaked thong, not wanting any hindrances, and pushed him on his back, the lacy pink scrap still hanging from one ankle but no longer inhibiting my movement or his cock’s access to my glistening cunt.
He grinned and cupped my ass as I straddled him, his cock nice and hard again and filling me nicely as I slid down onto his eager shaft, gloving him in my tight clutch. For all that I loved conversation, there were times when it was no longer necessary. And this was one of those times. I didn’t need him to talk to me, or love me, or even like me — although I knew he did like me. I just needed him to fuck me, and not for the first time, I wondered who was doing the favor for whom. And I was grateful we could just be bodies to each other for this moment.
And when I said he was a natural, I meant it…after just a few moments of me on top, he deftly rolled me over so he was crouched over top of me, positioned between my legs, his hands pinning my wrists to the bed. He kissed me hungrily, pressing himself against me, grinding himself into me, and then he flipped me onto my stomach and started kissing down my back, making me arch with pleasure, his mouth sliding over all my most sensitive spots. I was a puddle beneath him, my entire body melting as he nibbled and licked from my shoulders to the flare of my hips to the underswell of my butt cheeks. And then back up, and he was sliding along the length of me, his cock pressing against my legs, until it was lodged between my barely parted thighs.
I couldn’t wait to have him inside me again, so I pressed back against him and he took the hint, lifting my hips so I could get on my hands and knees. Within seconds he was inside me again, taking tentative strokes, trying to find a rhythm with me, and then getting more comfortable and setting the rhythm, holding my hips tightly against him. I moaned and stretched my arms up on the bed, grabbing fistfuls of his comforter as he moved inside me. “Joe, Joe, oh my God, that’s it…” I gasped into the bedspread. I felt the warmth spread through me, that familiar tingling. Rushing again toward another orgasm, I whimpered and groaned and shuddered and he just kept right on fucking me into oblivion. I was barely aware through the haze of my climax that he was getting close as well, his breathing ragged and his grip on my hips painfully tight.
And then he ground into me with a strangled cry and I felt his cum shoot inside me, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself. I was ready to collapse, but he held me steady until he was spent, and then he drew me down gently, kissing me softly.
“That was really awesome,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
“Hmm…” I began, “Maybe I should thank you.”
He laughed, spooning me from behind, wrapping the comforter around us, and tucking me close. “Why?”
He laughed again and said, “I guess I know why.”
“You guess you know…” I nipped at his forearm. “Seriously. That was amazing.”
We basked for a few minutes in post-coital bliss and then, inevitably, dozed off. We woke to the bedroom door being opened and my clothing and boots flying in. Jason’s voice came through the door. “Seriously, dude, I’m glad you’ve got a girl in there and all, ’cause it’s about time” he called, “but don’t let your skanks leave their shit all over the house, ok?”
We looked at each other and burst into muffled giggles. Jason clearly had no idea who was in the bedroom with Joe. It was going to be interesting when he figured it out. I nestled in closer to Joe’s warm body and just then he murmured, “Hey Kara, did I see some leather boots come flying in here?”
My heart leapt. “You did.”
“I think I might want to see you in those in a little bit.”
As I said…a natural.