“You okay dear?”
“What?! Oh, yes! I’m fine, Daddy.”
“You haven’t moved in a while. Looked like you zoned out for a bit. Everything ok?”
“I am not, Billy. What have you been doing up there? Smoking a joint?”
“Children,” Mom warns in a firm voice.
Billy sneers across the table and sits down directly across from Alison. She grimaces by scrunching up her face and wiggling her nose with her head. Her wedgie is forgotten, lodged firmly between her cheeks.
“Ugh, I bet you didn’t even wash your hands.”
Billy shrugs and Mom and Dad exchange a look, they make mirrored grimaces.
“Are you sure Mrs. McMallen won’t let me on the cheer squad again?”
“I’m sure. Mrs. McMallen was adamant that you be removed from the team. I’m sorry to be so blunt, honey, but there was nothing I can do. They really have a zero tolerance for what you did.”
“Uggh!” Alison releases a loud rage yell.
Billy laughs at her frustration.
Dad smiles at Alison and helps himself to some of the food still steaming on the serving dish. The scene has played out almost exactly this way all week.
Mom doesn’t verbalize anything but her eyes are intent on Alison, her chin is propped up on her hand. The pose doubles the intensity of her look. After a pregnant pause she speaks.
“I just can’t figure out why you were fighting in the first place. You’ve never done anything like this before. Weren’t you two friends?” Mom says this through somewhat clenched teeth. She does not move her fist under her chin, and it makes her have to tilt her head back to speak.
“We’re still friends, Mom. It is complicated and got way out of hand. I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t explain anything. Are you going to say anything else about it?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
Mom sighs and says, “Violence is never the answer.”
Dad nods his head with his mouth full of food. Silence draws out.
“Mom is right, fighting solves nothing.”
“I know. Brooke and I both apologized.”
“Yes, and you were kicked off the cheerleading squad, and suspended for a week. I didn’t even known colleges suspended people.”
“It isn’t like they were really fighting anyway. I mean, Alison and Brooke? They’re girls. What did you do, pull her hair?”
“Whatever, Billy, shut up.”
“I’m just saying, it isn’t like you punched her in the face.”
“Ugh, you’re so annoying.”
“You got suspended for not even fighting. That is the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
Quiet covers the table like cloth over food to keep it warm. They eat with the noises of plates and silverware moving around. Billy and Alison’s silence is louder. Billy glances at her often, watching for a reaction. Her face is still, and an occasional smile barely touches her lips.
“Did you miss much this last week? I know finals were before winter break.”
“Not really, Mom. We don’t really do anything important the first week of the semester anyways.” Alison adjusts her weight in her chair. She uncrosses her legs and switches her other leg over. She wiggles a little again. Billy looks at her over the table. His face is blank. He is aware of the twitch and the small smile on Alison’s face. Alison starts kicking her bare foot back and forth in the air. She feels the skin of her thighs pressed together and enjoys the shake of her knees back and forth.
“Well, make sure you check with your teachers to make sure when you go back tomorrow.”
“Guess who I saw last night?”
Alison looks up and her eyes are wide. Billy smiles savoring the moment.
“Come on, guess.”
Alison looks down and picks at her food. “I dont’ know. Who?”
Billy smiles again at Alison
“I was out with some friends at Aaron’s place.
We were hanging out with some people and Matthew was there.”
Billy tenses a little in expectation of something.
A pause, and confusion. “Yeah, he and Brooke were talking a lot.”
“Were they? I bet his girlfriend loved that.”
“It didn’t look like he had a girlfriend, if you known what I mean.”
“Stop.” Dad looks at Billy.
“Really?” Dad cuts off Billy’s protest.
“It’s fine, Daddy. We talked a few weeks ago. It’s okay.”
Mom and Dad are confused, but remain silent.
Billy fidgets in his seat changing position. He leans his arm on the table and pushes food around his plate.
“Obviously, we broke up last summer, and it sucked, but it’s okay. We didn’t really talk all year, and then we met up for coffee over winter break and he told me about his new girlfriend. He was being polite. Not like some people.”
Billy is quiet.
“Well, we were going to watch a terribly depressing movie tonight. I heard it was a real tear-jerker. But how about we watch something more fun, to lift spirits up?”
“It’s fine Daddy. I’m okay, really. Don’t worry about it. We can watch whatever.”
Alison remembers the wedgie, and squirms a bit, enjoying the sensation of how the white ridge of the panty’s edge pulls on her holes. She smiles at her Dad.
We fucked. We fucked in the car, on the couch, at parks, and on the grass. We fucked with the enthusiasm of 18 year old virgins. We had just found our sexuality and were determined to jam a lifetime of sexual exploration into the month that Matthew had left before leaving for college.
Our initial sexual encounter, and our success with it, began a pattern of eagerly waiting for my parents to retire upstairs and waiting, again, long enough for us to feel like they were sleeping. My brother was another problem, but he rarely left his room. I would stand at the base of the stairs tilting my head back and forth listening to the sound of my family home for any indication of their consciousness. When I was satisfied they were asleep, I would scamper back into the family room and pull my shirt over my head and drop my pajama pants around my ankle.
“Still with the one foot?”
“Yes Matthew! What if they come down the stairs. You need to have your clothes on or my Dad will kill you.” I shivered,
“And me. Oh god. That would be awful.”
“Don’t worry babe, that won’t happen. We’ll hear them.” He pulled my hand, “Come here.”
I landed on his mostly naked body. His t-shirt was pulled up behind his head exposing his chest and abs, and like me, his pants bunched around one of his feet. I pressed into his solidness. He had tanned and matured this summer. My hands pressed up into his pecs and he flexed into my pressure. I smiled into his face and nibbled on his chin with my teeth.
“You’re horny today, aren’t you?”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day. I want to cum so bad from your dick inside me.”
“Oh god, yes. I think we can do it if you’re on top of me. I, read, that you can get off better that way.”
“You read it?”
“Don’t look at me like I’m weird. I’ve never been with anyone before. I looked it up so I could pleasure you.”
“I just don’t want to do some weird internet stuff because some nerd living in his mom’s basement says we should.”
“It was pretty legit. Just trust me.”
“Mmm, okaaay.” I was reluctant.
“Seriously. Trust me.”
I did trust him. I trusted him to guide me through the throes of ecstasy, to hold my heart in the palm of his caring hands, to protect me from the pain of the world, but sometimes he was just was too naive. Sometimes he believed the weirdest things. Sometimes he was just wrong. I chose to trust him in this.
I wiggled my crotch into his flaccidness and felt the muscles of my ass sway in the darkness. We had left the TV off. We were all over each other then. I clawed at him with my fingerprints. I wanted to feel the strength of him through my hands. I wanted to feel the roughness of his boyhood, and dragged my prints up and down the side of his body, probing at his muscles.
“Heheh, that tickles on my sides. Here, like this.”
He held the back of my hand and pressed hard into his skin with my whole palm and fingers.
He painted his side and abs with my whole hand pressing firm into his skin. I modified my pressure and explored more of him. He wanted me to flex my fingers and press my palms like you do practicing yoga inversions. I traced the lines of his stomach into his hips, and followed that line of sexiness down to his trimmed package. He was rapidly hardening and I flipped his cock up towards his belly button and lapped at the base of his pole near his balls. He groaned and palmed the back of my head pressing me into him.
I almost stopped. That was new.
Surprised, but interested, I let him force my face deeper into the base of his cock. My nose dug into the flesh of his abdomen and rolls of his ball sack built up onto my lower lip from my tongue and sucking. I moved to take him in my mouth.
“Not yet. Suck my balls.”
I looked up at him around his dick.
His hand was still on the back of my head, though the pressure had let up significantly. It was more resting there than guiding.
“Since you asked.”
I dropped my mouth lower and pulled one of his nuts into my mouth. I puckered my cheeks to draw him in with a sucking motion and he twitched. ‘Gentler,’ I thought. So I rolled his ball onto my spread tongue and tried to wrap around it as much as I could. I pressed softly up onto the roof of my mouth and slowly drew my head back. His nut popped out of my lips and fell back against his leg. He cock was rigid, bouncing back and forth inches above his navel. I smiled.
“You liked that. Didn’t you? You perv.”
“Yeah, I, uhm, read about that too. I didn’t like it at first, but then. I don’t don’t know what you did, but wow. Do
My hand had found his cock and was pumping him spreading the wetness from his balls over the tip of his massive mushroom top.
I dropped my face again and lapped at his balls. I wanted to find every way to pleasure his sac with my mouth. Matthew liked the full tongue pressure and the wide tongue lick that pressed his ball back into his leg, or up onto his shaft.
At some point, I looked up his cock and I laughed.
“God. It looks huge from down here.” The base of his dick was pressed against my eyebrow; my nose and lips were surrounded by flimsy ball skin.
Matthew’s dick was a Morningstar. He had a normal shaft, decent length and such, but the head was massive. It was disproportionate to the pole and I always thought it would topple over.
I lifted my mouth up around his tip and stretched my lips to fit it in. I globbed onto him and slurped my tongue with pressure. I wanted to squeeze and mould his head into a throat-able shape. Remembering his ball play desire, I cupped his sac in my palm and massaged the balls. His cock undulated in my mouth, and through the movement slipped his tip to the back of my throat. I gagged on him, and he came.
The combined pressure of his cum faucet down my throat and my gag made me cough on his cock. I splurt cum around the base of his shaft through the gaps in my lips. I still had him bouncing deep into my tonsils while I struggled to recover but keep my tongue pressed on his spot. Spit and cum mixed in a sticky goo making a mess of his pubes. My nose dipped into the mess and I smelled the clean saltiness of his spunk full in my nasal passage. I couldn’t breathe through my mouth, and had to pull large lungfuls of air through my nose. Each deep inhalation was sharp with the smell of his cum.
“Heh, haha. Uh.” Matthew pulled out of my mouth pushing at my forehead. “That tickles. I get really sensitive after I come.”
My mouth smiled and I sat up on my heels looking down at him. I wiped my face with a paper towel we had brought over for cleanup.
“What about me?”
“I think I’m spent, babe. Whatever you did with your mouth was incredible. I just couldn’t hold back.”
“I could tell. You really liked it when I sucked on your balls.”
My smile touched my eyes. I wiped the back of my hand across my face and dropped down to kiss Matthew. He accepted it, but quickly turned his head away and pecked my cheek.
“You taste, salty. Let me go down on you.”
We rolled over so he could get on top of me and back up down to my pussy. I settled into the warm leather of the couch. Matthew had left a nice warm spot from his heat that I nestled into. I propped a pillow behind my head and watched him guide his head down to my pussy. My knees were up in the air and my feet pressed down onto the couch. One foot sunk into the gap between the cushion and the back of the couch, while the other scrabbled for purchase on the cushion’s edge. Matthew had begun sucking my slit and and probing his tongue into my hole, but I was still uncomfortable. I stopped him with a hand on his head.
“I can’t get comfortable. This isn’t working for me.”
“I’m sorry. Want me to move back?”
“No. I don’t know.”
I squirmed around on my back again. It just wasn’t doing it for me.
“Lay down on your back,” I told him.
I climbed up on top of him and shimmied my knees up to his armpits, then stood up on the couch, and dropped my knees near his ears. I squatted my pussy on his face.
“Yeah. Eat me out.”
He tilted his head back and took my clit on the fullness of his tongue. His top lip lifted my hood and my bean bulged from the attention and friction of his face.
I started to grind my pussy into his tongue and felt him struggle for air. I ignored him and clenched the arm of the couch. My fingers dug deep into the shallow padding of the armrest. The leather crackled from the force of my grip. Throughout my hips wiggled in constant rhythm to his tongue counterpoint. We had done so many rounds of oral before having sex that we had talked through all the variations of what we liked and didn’t: I had trained Matthew well. Despite his lack of air, despite my pussy pressed firm against his nose and mouth, despite the scratches of my recently shaved mound on his face, despite the strain of my gymnast legs against his ears, despite it all, he continued his focus on pleasuring my clit.
His hands had been latched to my ass, mostly helping me stay on top of him and balanced, but occasionally they explored the softness of my skin and the nakedness of my legs. I was toned, tan, and firm, and he had exclusive rights to touch my sculpted backside.
I looked down at his head and pulled his hair up to get his attention.
“Put your fingers in me.”
His eyes answered me: a brief look at my face, then he closed his eyes again. Matthew took a hand away from my body and wedged it under his chin and up my snatch. His fingers blossomed in my wet spongy pussy. He angled his fingers up to my G spot and held them there. Again. I had trained him well to find my pleasures. He responded to my direction, responded to my needs, and was willing to sacrifice his breath to give me the satisfaction I needed. I loved him still.
With the combined action of his attentive mouth, his rigid digits, and my controlling grinding I came over his face in quivering waves of joy. I looked up into the darkness of the family room and pushed his head hard into my pussy. My ass shook, my leg muscles spammed, and I felt my tits jiggle from the force of my satisfaction.
I collapsed back down on to the couch and let my head dawdle between his feet. My body was arched backwards draping over Matthew’s body, and my pussy was pushed up and exposed. His hand ran up the inside of my leg and his thumb found my still soaking peach.
“Haha, heh, stop. It tickles too much. I’m so sensitive after I come.”
“I know,” he smiled, “I thought you’d like to know what it’s like.”
Our breath was labored and we lay there quiet. I stared at objects in the family room, but didn’t really see them. I was waiting for him to leave.
I loved Matthew. Some part of me longed to have him hold me and protect me from the cool frightening darkness, but tonight I just wanted him gone. I wanted to fade into the silence of the night and be alone. That was new. I waited and started to relax. The feeling faded but it nagged me.
Matthew let me lounge on his naked body and remain quiet in the stillness of the dark. He was in constant motion: his hands massaged my legs, my quads, the outside of my hips, the hills of my ass and calves, the lips of my pussy. He explored my body. I imagined that he could fit in with blind people by using his touch to memorize the feel of my smooth skin. My legs were shaved that morning, my recent gymnastic season left me strong and firm, and my time at the pool had me tan and healthy. I fell asleep to the rhythm of his touch and the tiredness of our sex.
“Babe. Babe. I’ve got to go.”
Matthew was dressed and my shirt was pulled down over my breasts.
“Hmmm? Okay. I should go to bed too.”
“Ok. I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I walked him to the back door.
He dissolved into the darkness of the backyard, and I closed and locked the door. I cleaned up the spoiled paper towels, and rearranged the pillows. I took the steps up to my room slow, and walked along the outside edges to make sure the wood didn’t creak. Billy’s door was closed. My parents door was closed. The crack below both doors was dark. Good.
Why had I wanted to be alone? Matthew had been perfect. He continued to dote on me. He continued to challenge me without being contrarian. What was it about him that had made me, indifferent? Was it indifference? He had earned the trust I gave him with my body. He had continued to ply me with the sexual fodder I craved. We entertained an honest sexuality that I doubted my parents shared. We were open to new things, and considerate of each other’s feeling. Was I mad that he came without me? Did that really bother me?
I sat on the edge of my bed and remembered how I pinned his face to the couch and suffocated him with my pussy while I got off on his struggles. I smiled. That had been wonderful. He had still sucked my clit with his tongue and pressed full into me with his lips. Content again, I crawled under the covers. My bed was cool, and I welcomed the weight of the comforter as I dropped down into sleep.
The first time we had sex on my bed I knew why most couples exclusively did it in the bedroom. It was luxurious. We had room. We had comfortable space to lay down completely. We could use the side of the bed. We could easily change positions, and we went through a karma sutra list of them because we could. It was as if suddenly we had found the keystone of sex; get a good big bed and use it.
My parents were at some sort of award ceremony for my brother’s summer job. They were all gone for more than a few hours and Matthew had come over as soon as they left.
I had snap chatted him a selfie of my ass up in the air bent over my bed with a line, “No one is home but me.” Usually Matthew would ring the doorbell, or knock on the glass in the back. That day he appeared in my bedroom doorway breathing heavy.
A faint glisten of sweat hung about his forehead.
“Did you run here?” I laughed too.
“From the car. I was playing hockey with the guys and saw your snap. I wasn’t planning on coming over till a little later.”
“They left early. They are getting dinner together first and I pretended to not feel well. They will be gone for hours.”
I was still naked.
“I think I said something like, ‘No one is home.”
I bent over the edge of my bed, again reprising my picture, but this time placing both hands on the top of my bed. My ass perked up in the air ready for his dick. I pressed my knees together to give my legs an ‘hourglass’ look cumulating in my butt round and firm at the top.
I dropped my breasts on the heavy comforter and stretched my arms out over the bed.
“Fuck me Matthew. You’re my only hope.”
I turned my face back to him over my shoulder. I could see the mountain of my butt swaying back and forth slightly side to side. He was staring at me mouth slightly open.
“Wow. Ok. You are fulfilling every fantasy I’ve ever had.”
He stripped while he walked to me. He dropped or threw his clothes; whichever was easier. When he finally dropped his underwear his cock bounced out erect and sprung up and down. His head seemed to have it’s own pulse as it wobbled toward me.
I placed the condom I had readied on my butt and waited for him to suit up.
He entered me without warning.
Usually I felt his hips or thighs press against me. Usually he caressed my body before entrance. Today he touched me by cock only and pressed the girth of his tip against my still tight pussy. I was turned on, but not as well lubed as usual. He ‘popped’ that massive head into my peach with a raw force I hadn’t experienced before. I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. It was not unpleasant but not an easy entrance.
“Are you ready for me babe? Are you ready for my dick?”
This wasn’t the normal language he would use. I rolled with it, trying out the dirty talk. We were role playing. The naked picture, the naked act I put on when he showed up had changed him.
“Yes you big man. I love it when you impale me on your fuck stick. Do me bent over the bed. Fuck me hard. Fuck me in the bed I grew up in.”
‘In the bed I grew up in?’ I thought. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ While true, I didn’t speak like that. Like a, slut. Right? Did I?
“Oh yeah! Do you like it when I fuck you? I love watching your ass ripple from my thrust. I can see my dick sliding into you.”
“Fuck me. Fuck me harder!”
I yelled. We’ve never been able to make noise before and it felt good!
“Fuck me! I love it! Uh! Uh! Yeah! Fuck me!”
He pulled out of me and I felt warm cum splat over my back. I felt a tickle on my shoulder and I heard a groan then a laugh.
“Oh shit. I came all over your back. Some got all the way onto your shoulder.”
“Eeeww. Get it off!”
“Ok. Okay! Do you have any tissues?”
“Over there,” I pointed to the end table next to my bed. I was still bent over with my ass in the air and my tits pressed into the bed. “Hurry! It’s dripping!”
Matthew rushed to clean me up and dabbed at my skin. It felt like he smeared cum into me like rubbing lotion in.
“Roll over onto the bed.” It was a command. This was new too.
I looked at him with something that must have looked like confusion or hesitation.
“Get on the bed and lie back.” It was another command.
He put his hand on my breastbone and pushed me down on my childhood bed. His hand was strong into my chest and he ignored my flushed tits pressing full against his hand. He took his other hand and spread my legs open. He spread me open as I had spread my legs for him so many times before. He didn’ ask, just drove the fingers of his free hand up my pussy and massaged my spot. Still he held me down and I strained to look up at him.
What was happening?! This was a forceful and determined man I hadn’t encountered before. Normally, Matthew was a patient and permissive lover. He asked before taking action. He asked before drooling over my clit. He asked me to suck his balls. He was taking me. I loved it and I hated him for it. I was just about to say something when he dipped his head and suctioned onto my pussy with his mouth. Hours of practice made it easy for him to find my clit and tongue it the way he knew I loved.
I was quick.
He laid down beside me and we were quiet, naked, and comfortable. We were naked and laying on my bed. We had just had sex in my room! It was a milestone. I had thought about it often while I touched myself alone. I had imagined what it would be like. My fantasies had certainly never been the bored housewife whose husband was away. Had I called him ‘big boy?’ I hope not.
“That was unlike anything we’ve ever done. I wasn’t sure it was what you wanted, but you seemed to like it so I kept going. I hope that dirty talk wasn’t too weird.”
“It was good. I liked it too.” I smiled at him, “Did I turn you on?”
“Oh my god yes! Didn’t you notice how I just ran in and fucked you. Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so, direct. It was just, you know. So fucking sexy. I couldn’t help myself.”
We couldn’t help ourselves. We fucked two more times and he went down on me for a few more snowballing orgasms. The bed was a catalyst for our trysts and an aphrodisiac for his cock. Maybe it was our youth, maybe it was our sexually peaked bodies. Maybe it was the weeks of ‘get it where you can’ sex we’d had on the couch, the car, and in the woods. I am most fond of that bedroom sex, even with the dirty filth talk that permeated the first round.
I face-planted into the couch and my tits squished in pain as they collapsed into the cushions. I reached past my belly to my feet folding my naked ass up into the air. I found my tangled flannel pants and yanked them up to my waist, then rolled over on to my back and flipped my shirt down.
Matthew had been plowing me doggy style on the couch and was now seated on the end with his shirt down and his shorts adequately covering his crotch. He started massaging my feet and I tried to lay back like I was relaxed; not just on all fours biting my lip to cover my moans of excitement.
The creaking footsteps that interrupted us changed to muffled falls. Whoever was coming down the stairs had hit the carpet covering the foyer’s ceramic tiles.
“You’re still here, Matthew?”
“Yeah, we’re just hanging out. How’s it going?”
“Do you always stay over this late?”
Matthew nodded to Billy. “Sometimes.” He continued massaging my feet.
“What are you guys doing in the dark?” A hint of a snicker lingered with the last words. Billy was leaning forward into the fridge. The light blossomed out through the kitchen and over the back of the couch.
“We’re just hanging out, and Matthew is giving me a massage.”
Billy pulled something out of the fridge and took it upstairs.
“Have fun you two.”
Matthew was always so polite. We looked at each other and exhaled. I didn’t realize it but he had been holding his breath. I think he thought Billy knew about what we were doing.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “he has no idea. And even if he did, he wouldn’t tell my parents.”
“I don’t know. I still worry. When you come visit me at school we’ll never have this problem. I’ll just have to kick my roommate out.”
“Yeah. That will be nice.”
He rubbed my feet, and we lay in silence. More footsteps and movement upstairs. Billy, it seemed, was up and about.
“I should head home. I have to get up early tomorrow for work and I’m exhausted. I wish we could have finished. I’m going to have blue balls tonight and tomorrow.”
“Heh. I think you’ll be okay,” I said and grabbed his package for emphasis.
“Ok, well,then. Good night. I love you.”
“Love you too honey.”
He left out the back door. I cleaned up, walked up the center of the stairs. I could see my parent’s light was off, and Billy’s light was on, through the line under the door. I lay in my bed letting the sheets touch the skin of my arms and feet. I had to have the press of the comforter heavy on my body even in summer. My fingers circled my clit and I drifted into sleep thinking about satisfaction and interruptions.
“Put your foot there,” Matthew pointed to the center console. “And there.” He pointed to the armrest built into the side of the door. “There. Now, slide down, and… ugh. Yeah.”
My pussy ‘popped’ around the lip of his head and rushed to wrap around the veins of his shaft. My hands hurt from holding the back of the car seat and the back of my head smudged the ceiling of the car. My hair stuck to the weird fabric and yanked on my scalp.
Matthew’s hands were palm up on my butt. He was lifting me up and down on his cock controlling the speed, depth, and angle. He liked trying to get his ballsack to fold into the bottom of my pussy. ‘Balls deep,’ I thought, ‘every time.’ My legs were heating up and my breasts slapped Matthew in the face. I cringed looking at the skin of my stomach folding up into small rolls. This was exhausting, and if I hadn’t been in such good athletic shape, or if Matthew wasn’t physically lifting me up and down on his cock I never would have been able to bounce more than a few times. My abs hurt from exertion, and I sneered as I saw my stomach rolls again.
“Can you put your knees down here?” Matthew gestured to his seat on either side of his hips. “You can ride me.”
“Sure. I’m getting tired.”
I loved him more in that moment than I had in a while. He was always so thoughtful of me and my needs. Well, most of the time.
I dropped my knees and scraped some skin off from the matted fabric covering on the side of the door. It was the same as the ceiling; not plastic, not fabric, but something irritating.
“This isn’t, riiiight.” I looked around trying to piece together what was wrong.
“Let me put the seat down.”
His right hand reached between my knee and the door to the handle on the seat. He dropped back and I rolled forward on his dick to a more natural position. My clit found the base of his cock and the friction of his trimmed pubes. I groaned.
“There we go.”
I rocked my pelvis back and forward on him. My palms were flush against the rise of his chest muscles and I squeezed my tits between my elbows. The push-up bra I was wearing popped my cleavage out the top of my shirt and I tucked my chin into it. I slammed my hips up and down on his cock determined to climax. Forward and back. My eyes closed and I heard him whisper something. I panted with effort. Matthew’s hands found entrance below the underwire of my bra. He kneaded my tits with a familiar hunger. My abs were still sore, and my knees began to get hot. Forward and back. I dropped down on to his chest and he let go of my breasts and smacked my ass cheeks. It was loud. My ass was flexed and firm still bobbing forward and back.
Matthew reached around my butt cheek and pulled me apart. My pussy split wider and the hood over my clit receded just a little more. Forward and back. The sensation I had been grinding for was suddenly bright and there.
“Keep doing that!”
He pulled at my ass more. The skin of my butt strained with his effort, and I was briefly worried I would tear.
Then he let go to get a better grip. My flesh snapped back and I had a brief interruption of ecstasy. Anger flooded through me and my pussy squeezed in frustration around his dick. My abs clenched down, and I began to tremble.
His fingers dug deeper into my butt than he had before. A few of his fingers landed on my slit and one pressed firm against my butthole. I flinched and my rage evaporated. I leaned back onto his ass invading finger trying with every rock back to get a little more of it inside me.
Forward and back. He pulled apart then and kept pulling. His fingers slid on my skin from the effort, and it pulled my asshole open a little. My pussy spasmed from the stimulation: my clit pulled out and exposed on his veined cock, the rocking of my hips to drive the friction, his finger widening my asshole, and the fullness of his cock in my abdomen shook my body in trembling shudders. I pressed my flesh into the solidness of his body and twitched muscles in aftershocks of my orgasm.
“I came.” I was panting into his shoulder.
“I know. Wow. That was the first time! Awesome! You came from sex!”
Sweat coated my body, and my knees hurt. They were burning and slick with my exertion. I was immobile and melted on to him.
He gave a few minute thrusts of his hips. My body moved with him. I was spent and let him bounce me up and down. I lay there breathing into his shoulder, and he moved his cock slow inside me. He couldn’t have been pushing more than a few centimeters in and out of me. Matthew was still hard and I assumed he was hopeful of a release. His hands held me. They explored and violated my body, but he held me close, mostly, with the affection of a teenager determined to hold on to the youthful athletic flesh it had discovered.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yeah. That would be great.”
“How do you want me?”
I hadn’t asked him before.
There was a pause. Then a few pumps of his cock. I felt the head bulge against my cervix. I let out a whimper.
“Can you spin around? I think it’s called ‘reverse cowgirl.”
“Really? Do you know all the names?”
“Some. Research. I, uhm, read, about them.”
“Uh huh. Okay.”
I liked this better in the car, but it was still difficult to manage. My feet could at least lay flat on the floor. I pressed my face into the dashboard above the glove box and used it to hold myself up. My ass was pointed right at Matthew’s face and he had a full view of my pussy gripping his cock. My butthole was open to his face. I remember thinking more about my asshole than the sensation of his cock pushing into me. His hands devoured my ass. He loved the smoothness of my skin and the tightness of my muscled bottom. I wanted him to press his thumb on my asshole. ‘What the fuck?’ I thought. ‘I do?’ It was exposed to him. It aimed at his face, and I knew he was staring at my ass. It was bouncing up and down on his dick.
It slipped out.
He pulled me back a little, and pushed the tip to my slit. Again, every time, I was stretched beyond what I thought I could accept, and he forced that mushroom into my pussy. Again, every time, I exhaled with sound to make room.
My cheek was pressed flat against the dashboard, my lips bunched up to my nose, my one eye closed by the press of my skin. Matthew was using my body like I had used his a few moments ago; like I had used his on the couch while I fucked my clit on his face. I loved Matthew. I loved him and his kindness. I loved the attention and care he showed me. Why did I not feel it as strongly anymore? Why did I feel like I was just a hole to him as he drove his dick up my pussy and drank in the view of my ass? I liked the feeling. I liked the way my asshole spread out before him like an invitation. I trusted him to be gentle with my body. It was why I gave him permission to fuck me, to grope me at whim, to violate my body in any way he wanted. But, again, as my face smushed into the dashboard, and as his dick stretched my lips around his tip, I couldn’t help but think that I didn’t want him to violate me in any way. I wanted to violate him. I was using him; that he was just a tool to satisfy my sexual desire. Did I want a kind, gentle, thoughtful protector? Of course I did.
I decided to let him take me and be glad that he wanted me. I decided if I took him too, it would balance out. He had used me like I let him use me, and I had used him like he let me use him. I was confident we had a relationship that was honest and lasting.
Matthew found a rhythm and his shaft swelled. He exploded into me and I thought I could feel the cum beading and pressing against the condom into my snatch. He lifted me off his lap, and like dismounting a horse, I fell into the driver’s seat.
“You are so fucking hot. Your ass is amazing.”
“I watched as you were bouncing up and down on me. It was so fucking sexy. You have the perfect butt and legs.”
He reached over the column and stroked the top of my leg with his hand.
“Uhhh, I could look at you all day. Wow. I can’t begin to tell you how turned on I was.”
I swung my feet under the driving column and started the engine.
“Good thing no one came to the park tonight. Huh?”
“I know. Better here than at my house again. I don’t want my parents to walk in on us.”
We drove out of the park. I made Matthew throw out the condom and the paper towels we used to clean up in the garbage near the exit. He smiled at me as he ran back to the open car door. My smile didn’t touch my eyes.
I loved Matthew and I loved him more than I probably will ever love anyone else. We gave each other our virginity. We explored almost the full extent of our sexuality together. We are bound in the ties of love so youthful and pure only those privileged to live long enough, know the anguish that comes from it. We fucked it up. We fucked it up as young lovers do.
Matthew was honest and attentive. I had trusted him for years. I was safe with him. He gave me the attention I craved, and fought me when I needed a challenge. The rose colors of experience and time say that he was what I was always looking for in a man.
And yet maybe I started to hate him that first night when he came inside me. He came without me. We would cum together. It was our thing. He came into the condom and that separation started it all. Maybe it was the sex itself that transformed our love to a more individual craving that we couldn’t articulate or understand. Maybe it built and grew when I choked on his cock and breathed his cum and my spit through my nose because his massive tip blocked my throat. We had started a separation as real as our coming college semester. We would be at different schools. We were moving in different directions, and without the clarity of maturity or experience, we avoided issues. We skirted topics. Maybe I resented him for thinking of himself and needing to be forced to treat my orgasm as important as his. Maybe I hated that with every week of sex he favored doggy style more and more, asking that I turn around and bend over for him. His constant availability irritated me. I wanted space and freedom. I was hungry for his sex, but resentful of his attention.
I grew irrationally jealous of his girl friends. I both wanted to pin him down to ride his dick and slap him in the face for talking to another woman. I wanted the world to know that he was mine, but I wanted to shove him away for his endless enthusiasm and accommodations. Maybe it was the way he wouldn’t touch my asshole, the way that he thought anal was dirty. Maybe it was how I didn’t mind using him as a pleasure tool, that when I rode his cock in the car I didn’t care about his face, or him, just the feel of my clit rubbing on the friction of his erection and the pressure of his tip burgeoning against my inside. Maybe it was all of these things and more that lead to one of the last times we had sex.
Frat Party Oral and Sex
Matthew had two fingers up my pussy. I was wet, and ready, but I was still furious. His other hand pushed up my skirt and he lowered his face to my clit. I wanted to cum, but I really wasn’t in the mood for him and his bullshit. He did know how to find my pleasure, though. He pressed his fingers right on my G spot, latched his tongue right on my bean, and sucked with an intensity I remembered from when we were virgins and all we did was oral.
Where the fuck were we? I could barely remember. The rest of the night had a been a blur of activity all without Matthew. He had left me for much longer than a “little bit.” I had latched on to Brooke and her college dude while I waited for Matthew to return. We played bags, talked, and they smoked. They had pressed beer in my hands and I let it warm untouched. Gross, I wasn’t going to drink frat boy swill.
I wove Matthew’s hair in my hand and pushed him into my pussy. I held him there and ground my hips up and down on his fingers. I wanted to cum immediately and end this shitty night. That fucker ditched me. He was silent and his tongue worked my clit, still. Ever the attentive Matthew, except when he couldn’t be bothered to spend the night with me.
I held his head stable in one position. I squeezed his hair like I knew it would hurt. Not enough for him to stop, but enough for him to be uncomfortable. I wanted him to be in pain. I may have squeezed harder. That asshole had ditched me at the frat party earlier. He had left me alone in a crowd of creepy frat guys that hit on me with an uncomfortable regularity. I couldn’t go more than a few minutes without hearing about someone’s “coke can cock” or how “tight my ass was.” I pressed Matthew’s head into my pussy and drove my clit into his tongue. I ground my teeth and sneered at the top of his head.
He had left me alone at that frat party to hang out with friends he already knew at his college. What the fuck was he thinking? He was supposed to protect me from those asshole frat guys. He was supposed to look out for me. He was supposed to attend to me and party with me, not without me!
“Brooke is here too with her older sister. Go hang out with her. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He had said. He didn’t even look back when he left, just melted into the crowd with his college friends. He didn’t even go here yet! It was still August!
“UGH!” He took it as a grunt of pleasure, and not the release of anger and frustration I felt. I pulled his face into my pussy more. The pressure of his face hurt me a little, but I liked seeing him brace his hands against my quads to push back on my grip in his hair. I increased my hip motions thinking about the strain I was putting on his face as he licked my clit.
It was a small, forced orgasm, but it was one. I trembled and twitched my pussy in a pleasure that faded quickly. My anger had faded somewhat. My orgasm had morphed it into a cold rage in the base of my spine. I was disgusted with myself and upset about how I had let him give me pleasure. He pulled back with a sloppy smile. He was different.
“I liked that.”
It was a drawl. It wasn’t the normal Matthew enthusiasm. He pawed at me with his hands, and rolled me on to my stomach. He pulled me to my hands and knees. He wanted to fuck me like a dog again.
I didn’t even want to see him and I felt him moving behind me. My ass was in the air above the bed. Were we on a bed? He pressed my legs apart at the knees and entered me from behind. Again, I let out a breath as his tip split my pussy wide when it entered. He fucked me then with a steady beat. His hips hit my ass cheeks with constant regularity. He was silent. I felt his hands holding my hips and immobile. It was weird. Matthew was a man of motion, of exploring hands determined to mine the pleasure from my skin and body at every opportunity. But now, leaning on my hands and knees and staring into the blue cheap comforter of a random room, all I could think of was that his hands were still. There was no constant massage of my butt cheeks, no pressured caress of my skin. He didn’t lean into my ass to press his abs against me. I stared at that 100 thread count or less blue comforter and smelled the stale smoke in it. I barely noticed how his thrusts jerked my vision. I barely noticed my skirt bunched up over my ass. I barely noticed that he didn’t even bother to touch my tits. They were still bound up in the shirt I had picked out just for this party.
I fumed with a frustration and anger I didn’t fully understand. That fucker had ditched me at a party where I only knew one other person, in a college I didn’t go to, and couldn’t leave. His hands were still. He didn’t even grab my skirt like a saddle and pull me into his dick. There was no excitement. Just the beat of his cock plunging into me over and over again with the regularity of a metronome. I couldn’t bear to look at him and I stared at the comforter still on all fours as he pulled me forward and back: steady, regular, wooden.
He he fucked me till he came into the condom. He removed his dick from my pussy, leaned forward and fell next to me on the bed.
I turned away from him and pushed my short skirt down. I wished it was longer. I wished I hadn’t worn a thong, and I wished we had gotten a hotel. There was still silence.
I looked over and he was passed out. His eyes were closed and the condom had shriveled over his penis like it had retracted into it’s packaging.
I punched him in the shoulder with all the strength I could muster.
He didn’t wake up.
I punched him again. Nothing. I kicked him in the thigh. I wanted him to bruise like he had bruised me.
He woke up confused, and said, “What the fuck. Go to sleep.”
Matthew rolled over and passed out again.
Rage unlike any I had experienced flooded through me with an intensity that took control of my body and forced me into action. I lashed out and threw a pillow across the room. I got out of the bed, no, not a bed, a fucking futon! I hurled Matthew’s shoe, and it smashed into the sole window. It bounced off with a startling crack. While the window was cracked, it wasn’t destroyed. My rage faded somewhat and I looked around the room. It was awful. It was tiny, dark, and bare. A futon, a table, a computer, the window, and a door. Piles of clothes covered the floor. Crumpled papers and paper towel were strewn haphazard about. It smelled like cigarettes and old beer. A used condom stuck out from under the futon. I thought I was going to vomit and I hated Matthew more in that moment that I ever had. I put my thong in my purse, took my shoes, checked my phone, and I left.
Brooke was passed out, but her sister heard her phone notifications from my frantic texts and calls. Skylar was kind enough to let me crash in her dorm room too. I got a space on the floor with a pillow and a sheet. It was better than staying with Matthew. I faded into a restless sleep more from exhaustion than any sense of comfort or relaxation.
I had just slid my pussy over Matthew’s cock and started to move up and down on him when he said, “Alison, I love you.”
He said it with a sincerity I almost believed. I was skeptical. I put my hands on his chest and palmed his pecks. He was still working out regularly. I wondered if he would continue to next week away at college. I wondered if I would exercise too, and figured I would have to if I was going to cheer and do gymnastics my freshman year.
I smiled down at Matthew and rode him with a slow but intense grind. I was driving his pole up inside me as deep as I could. I wanted to memorize the feeling of his dick up me and how his head felt bulging inside my pelvis. I was going to miss his fat mushroom tip.
I lifted up off him and let the swell of his cock’s head stretch my pussy wide. I let it pop out and the pressed back onto it again and forced it into my hole. It dragged some of my peach’s skin in with it and burst into me with a satisfying slam. Yeah. This was going to be painful to go without.
Matthew had closed his eyes and was seeming to enjoy the experience. I lifted up off him in preparation of a strong forceful slam and he slipped out entirely. I gasped as his head pulled me apart on it’s exit. I dropped my hips down using my abs to quicken the thrust.
“OW!” His hands shot down to his dick. “Fuck!”
“Shit, are you okay?”
“Yeah, you just missed and bent me in half with your butt. Oooh. That hurt.”
I reached my hand under me and guided him back into my pussy. I moved up and down on him slower and gentler.
“You can’t rotate that much or I’ll slip out and you’ll break me.”
“It won’t break. It’ll be fine.”
“No, seriously, when you snap a boner you can damage it where it actually does break. Just be careful with me.”
“Ok. Don’t worry. You get on top.”
We rolled over and he stayed inside me as we switched positions. I was going to miss how strong he was and able to throw me on my back while still staying inside of me. He leaned into my body and I felt him drive deeper into my warmth. I pulled his head close to my neck and let him kiss me. He moved with a gentleness that was too late. He had been burning me with his indifference and distraction since before that awful frat party at his school. We had fought for days. We texted with swears we’d never used for each other before, and yelled through doors the most hurtful things we could think of. I wanted him to feel the pain of that night as thoroughly as I had. I retaliated by attacking all the insecurities he had confided to me the last few years. And when it was over he had left and I remained shut in my room with my own tears.
Why wasn’t he the one crying?
He kissed with our tongues and I closed my eyes enjoying the pressure of his skill. Matthew was an excellent kisser. Maybe because he had learned how with me. Kissing him was as natural to me as brushing my hair, as easy and enjoyable as wearing my favorite pajamas.
I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled his waist into mine. I wanted to hold him close and tell him everything was going to be fine. I wanted him to push into me with the strength he had but wasn’t giving to me anymore. I wanted him to remember the attention he had given me before the summer, remember the sweetness he had shown before, remember his behavior before he started to rail me from behind. Before he didn’t even want to see my face. I almost changed my mind.
“Fuck me Matthew,” I whispered into his ear, “Fuck me faster. I love it when you push into me like this. I can feel you pressing on my clit. It feels so good.”
“Yeah, I love it too. Babe, you’re amazing. I love you.”
I moaned and thrashed, gasped and writhed under him. I locked my feet together, squeezed my quads, flexed my ass, and smiled as my dirty talk quickened his pace.
“Your dick is amazing. I love having it plunge into me over and over. Your arms are so strong,” I ran my hands over the ridges of his new muscles. “You are so sexy and strong. Keep fucking me like this. It is turning me on so much. I want you, I want it!”
I let loose with a torrent of filth talk I never had attempted. I let loose with a mouth full of lies and exaggeration. I faked the orgasm I pretended to have for him. I faked the quivering as I clamped down on his dick with my pussy. I dug my fingers into the mattress to make my cries more realistic, and I pulled him tight into an embrace that I hoped would prove my orgasm. He was quick to follow the peak of my performance and came with a groan of his own into the condom.
We panted into each other’s naked embrace and felt the speed of our hearts slow. Our flushed skin receded to the normal cream of our summer tans. He stayed inside me until we peeled apart many minutes later. We had hugged and stayed close both knowing it was the last time we would. We had held on to each other, and attempted to hold onto the memories of our love. We had grasped at the dream of our romance, and had pressed our naked selves closer to keep the memory of it from fading.
And yet, we got up and dressed on opposite sides of the bed. We went outside and ended our relationship. We cried in the driveway. We cried on the phone later that night when we reinforced the finality of our split. We cried in the silence of our own separate bedrooms, and alone, we cried in our sleep.