Cassandra

Before the first time I laid eyes on Cassandra, I had believed that love at first sight was a cliché not found outside of sappy light rock radio or those trashy paperbacks my grandmother read. But one look at this girl and I was hers; heart, mind, soul and body.

I was eighteen. I had just graduated high school the week before and was determined to thoroughly enjoy my last summer of freedom. This meant partying, hanging out, and hopefully getting laid. At the time I was, technically, a virgin. For the previous year and a half I had exclusively dated a girl named Melissa, who was unfortunately rather uptight and frigid. We had engaged in “everything but,” which meant eighteen months of ball-busting foreplay. Occasionally I’d get a hand job, but for the most part it was just making out and fondling. To give her credit, she did give me head once, on my birthday, but would not allow me to come in her mouth. She did, however, let me go down on her quite often. I enjoyed this, but it obviously wasn’t too fulfilling.

I had broken up with Melissa just a few weeks before, on the day after senior prom. That was the night, she had been promising for months, when we would finally make love. I actually had a condom on, and was struggling to squeeze into her tight little vagina, when Melissa broke down in tears and said that she didn’t want to go to hell for pre-marital sex.

I know I sound like a jerk for breaking up with a girl just because she wouldn’t fuck me, but the sex was only part of the problem. We hadn’t really got along for several months, and remained “together” only out of a sense of obligation. Neither of us shed too many tears when I told her it was over.

The day I met Cassandra, I was a pool party at my friend Greg Larson’s house. Greg’s parents were loaded and, even better, were in Europe for the month. Greg threw weekly bashes which took full advantage of the Olympic-sized swimming pool in his backyard and of the equally impressive bar they kept. Young kids, summer heat, swim suits and alcohol. You do the math.

There were many very attractive girls there that day, and Greg kept pointing out girls who weren’t attached. We were lounging on pool chairs, sipping margaritas, when I saw her.

She emerged from the pool, water pouring off her body. The water was cold, bracing, and her one-piece swimsuit clung sheerly to her body. Her nipples stood out like twin exclamation marks. She was slender with short, jet black hair and brilliant, emerald-green eyes. She caught my attention, to say the least, but I didn’t feel the zing of love at first sight until she raised her arms to pull the wet hair out of her face. Under her arms were light, but unmistakable, wisps of blonde hair.

I’d been majorly turned on by armpit hair on women ever since masturbating to my parent’s copy of “The Joy of Sex” when I was fourteen. Unfortunately, all the girls at my school shaved. I had suggested to Melissa once that she try going hairy, and she had just looked at me as if I’d asked her to join a religious cult.

Cassandra was the first girl I’d seen in real life who didn’t shave under there and it made my mouth water. Her underarm hair was so light in contrast to the black hair on her head. Obviously, she dyed her hair black. Wondering why she did this was but one of the thousands of intriguing questions going through my head at once as I watched her towel herself off.

“Who the hell is that?” I gasped.

“Who?” Greg said.

“The girl that just got out of the pool.”

“Her?” he said, puzzled. Cassandra was completely not his type. Greg favored girls like his current girlfriend, Cindi: blondes with big tits. “Um, she’s a friend of Cindi’s. Just moved here. Her name’s Cassandra Jones.”

“Cassandra Jones,” I repeated, enjoying the exotic way the name tasted in my mouth.

“Yeah. A white girl named Cassandra Jones. Go figure.”

Greg looked over and saw that I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“Well, you always did go for the weird arty chicks,” he laughed. “Do you want to meet her?”

“Hell yes.”

“Wait here. I’ll hook it up.”

Greg went over and talked to Cassandra, who was toweling off, talking to Cindi. Greg invited both girls up to his room to smoke a joint with us.

I was afraid at first that I’d be tongue-tied and speechless, as I usually am around a girl I’m really attracted to. But the pot relaxed everyone and Cassandra was open and friendly, anyway. She was talkative and funny, and I got the sense that she might have been into me. I found out that she had just moved here with her mother, following her parent’s divorce, and that she was planning on going to the local community college (just as I was) in the fall.

Then we all started talking about music. This was 1989, you understand. Greg and Cindi were big on Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Guns and Roses, that sort of thing. Cassandra, I soon found, shared my dislike for dumb metal. We started naming bands like The Cure and The Smiths. When she said she was into The Pixies and this new group called Jane’s Addiction, I knew I had found my soul mate.

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We hit it off so well, so quickly, that Greg suggested that Cassandra I come camping with him and Cindi that night. They knew a place out in the woods that was quiet and secluded. It would be just the four of us. Cassandra was enthusiastic about the idea and I, of course, could not say no.

Strange to say, but it wasn’t until we were on our way out of town that it dawned on me that I might have sex with Cassandra. I was driving, and Greg and Cindi were making out heavily in the back seat, when Cassandra took my hand and leaned on my shoulder. It was only then that I realized the tantalizing possibilities of what the night may hold. I had just met the girl, and for some reason I thought that I’d share a tent with Greg while the girls bunked up together. I was a little naive, to say the least.

We set up camp, built a fire, started in on a case of beer and, of course, more weed. Everyone was feeling high and merry, laughing and even singing. I sat close to Cassandra on a log, glancing over at her every few seconds because I couldn’t stand not to. She was even more beautiful by firelight. She was wearing a loose-fitting peasant-type dress, which had a very low-cut tank top. No bra. Plus, she kept raising her arms to play with her hair, exposing those light blonde curls under her arms. Seeing them made me wonder if her pubic hair would be that soft and light and of course thoughts like that didn’t allow much room for much else.

Before too long, Greg and Cindi disappeared into a tent together and we could hear the sounds of their lovemaking. Cassandra and I, more than half-drunk, laughed at the rapturous cries they were making. But I knew that if she was half as turned on as I was, it was only a matter of time before we retired into the other tent.

She looked up at me and I looked at her, the reflection of the orange firelight flickering in her green eyes. I kissed her, full on the mouth.

ZING! Wow, if there’s anything in the world more powerful than the first kiss, I don’t want to know about it. We kissed hungrily and I reached one hand into her top to touch her breast. She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight against her. I could feel her heart beating.

“I’m sorry, Christian,” she said, laughing as she pulled away. “But I have to pee really bad.”

“That’s OK,” I said.

“Will you come with me?” she asked. “Watch out for bears?”

“There aren’t any bears around here,” I said stupidly.

“Coyotes, then,” said Cassandra. “Bobcats, whatever. Pissing in the wilderness isn’t as much fun for girls as it is for guys. We’re pretty much helpless.”

“OK,” I shrugged.

We stumbled arm-in-arm into the dark woods, both drunker than we thought we were. Cassandra found a suitable spot not far from where the tents were. She pulled her panties down to her ankles, hitched up her skirt, and squatted back against a tree, not seeming to mind that I was watching.

I turned away, out of modesty, but the sound of her water flowing was strangely erotic. My erection, already throbbing, grew painful as my penis got even harder.

“Oh, shit,” Cassandra said. “I just pissed all over my underpants.”

She kicked them off her ankles, then picked them up and wiped herself with a dry part. Cassandra tossed her wet panties into a bush and together we walked back to the camp. Now, on top of everything else, I had to deal with the knowledge that she was completely naked under her dress.

Cassandra, giggling, pulled me into the tent after her. She fell on her back with her legs parted and I just couldn’t wait. I pulled her skirt up to her waist and buried my face in her naked pussy.

I had only tasted Melissa’s up to the point, and I had no idea that every girl tasted different. Cassandra was so unlike Melissa that I was shocked. I think my ex used some kind of deodorant powder or some shit like that because she always had a weird flowery chemical taste to her. But Cassandra tasted wild and alive, natural and musky, like some exotic fruit. It was like eating a mango for the first time. God, she was wet, too. Wetter than Melissa ever was. I loved it, sucking the juices from her pussy, drinking them, lapping her hard little clit, her pubic hair (as soft and light as I had imagined)tickling my nose.

Cassandra moaned and squirmed under my tongue, grabbing the back of my head and shoving it into her cunt. I was so turned on that I was humping the ground under me without even realizing that I was doing so. I raised my head for a second, just to catch a breath.

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“God, don’t stop,” Cassandra begged. “I’m so close!”

I took her clitoris between my lips and sucked hard and that was all it took to get Cassandra off. She bucked her hips and cried out loud, her pussy going into literal spasms, getting even wetter.

I came to the startling realization then that Melissa had been lying when she’d said that she had orgasms. She had never reacted like Cassandra was.

“Oh, Jesus, you do that good,” she panted. “Give me a minute, let me catch my breath.”

I crawled up beside her and she surprised me by kissing me, licking her own juices off my lips.

“Take off your clothes, Pussy Breath,” she teased.

Cassandra yanked my shorts down while I took off my shirt. Then she whipped the dress off and straddled my stomach. I could feel her cunt, hot and slimy, as she ground it against my belly.

“I don’t suppose you brought a rubber?” she asked.

“Fuck!” I cried out, smacking my forehead hard enough to bruise it. I had never before felt like such a moron.

Cassandra just laughed at my obvious distress. “It’s OK,” she said. “Just tell me before you come, OK?”

I nodded helplessly. She reached back and grabbed my penis.

“Wait,” I said. “I just want to tell you something first.”

“What?” she said, raising her eyebrow curiously.

“I’ve never done this before,” I confessed.

“Bullshit,” she said. “No virgin could eat pussy like that.”

“Well, I’ve done that before, lots of times,” I said. “But I’ve never done this.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“Wow,” Cassandra said. “You know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means you’ll remember this night for as long as you live.”

I nodded. I didn’t doubt that at all. Cassandra slid back and pulled me inside her.

It was the first time I had ever been inside a vagina and it was better even than my most feverish masturbatory daydreams. So soft and tight at the same time, hot and wet, wrapping around me like a second skin.

Cassandra began rocking gently back and forth, as slow as ocean waves, then gradually grew faster and faster, bearing down hard on my pelvis, squeezing me tight with the muscles inside her. Moving in ways I had no idea a woman could move. I reached up and played her breasts, but Cassandra’s eyes were closed and it was like I wasn’t there at all. She was lost in her own little world of pleasure.

It turned me on so much that she was on top, in charge. Cassandra fucked me, harder and harder as she grew more excited. I felt myself reach the boiling point.

“Stop,” I said. “I’m going to.”

Cassandra smiled. She climbed off my cock and remounted on my face. I was buried in her sweet pussy, her ass right in front of my eyes. Cassandra bent down and took my sopping, twitching penis into her mouth.

Her mouth felt even better than her pussy had. She licked her juices off me and began to suck hungrily, grinding herself against my mouth at the same time. I licked helplessly as she dribbled moisture all over my face.

My penis was on fire. Her lips and her tongue were going wild all up and down my shaft, and then she focused on the head, just the sensitive tip. I tried to warn her that I was about to come, but my mouth was full of cunt.

She took me full into her mouth and I exploded in there. Spurt after spurt erupted from deep in my body and she drank it all up eagerly. At the same time, I felt a second orgasm wrack her body.

She held me in her mouth until the earthquakes had subsided in both our bodies. Then she released me, licking me clean before crawling up beside me.

“Mmm,” she whispered in my ear. “You taste good.”

“You too,” I said.

We kissed slow and deep, the tastes of my cum and hers mingling on our lips.

“I’m exhausted,” Cassandra said.

“Me too,” I said, my eyelids literally drooping closed.

“Hey, are you one of those guys who gets a really big hard-on when you wake up in the morning?”

“Sometimes,” I said.

Cassandra laughed. “Good. I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping in.”

With that, she curled up naked in my arms. Within minutes she was lightly snoring. I watched her sleep, aching with love and desire.

Updated: December 20, 2016 — 7:00 PM

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