0 comments/ 11571 views/ 0 favorites Insanity By: Elizabeth Pride I must be going insane. There is no other reasonable explanation. Every time I closed my eyes he was there. Standing in the recesses of my thoughts, waiting for me. What could I do? I wanted him to be there, and I didn't want him to be there. I no longer finished my assignments with precision. It would take hours to do what used to take just minutes. I was forgetting to fix meals. Food was not what I was hungry for. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and see him there. Wanting me. I wanted to sit in the tub and close my eyes and masturbate to the images that he put inside my mind. To go to sleep at night with his phantom self entwined wit me in an erotic embrace. Just moments away from ecstasy. I hear his voice as he tells me how he wants me. Where he wants me. And what he is wanting in return. I hate the fact that nothing is getting done! All of my careful planning for this year is slowly trickling down the drain, because I cannot concentrate and I hate it! But then again, I love it. The thrill that goes through me when I think of him, or when I hear his name is like ambrosia to me. I close my eyes and there he is, like a looming presence of sexual heat, and even in my dreams, when he is not real, I am mesmerized by his even stare. Slowly he walks toward me. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches out and moves my hair away from my face with one hand. Then lightly ran his fingertips down my cheek and neck, then resting his large gentle hand upon my shoulder. When I move my eyes away from his to where his hand is resting on my shoulder, I notice that I am not wearing what I was before. Gone are the blue jeans and t-shirt, only to be replaced by a large mans button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The top few buttons are undone and his hand has pushed the shirt just slightly askew. Enough that my left nipple was peeking out from under the oversized shirt. His hand moved forward and found the nape of my neck and pulled me toward him as he leaned down and kissed my deeply and passionately. With my eyes closed and my lips occupied, he reached down with his other hand and ran it up the back of my thigh, over the swell of my buttocks and to the small of my back, lifting the shirt as he went. My body was responding to the way he touched me with his hands and lips. My arms reached out for him and my hands began to explore his chest and his arms and his back. Then before I knew what was happening, he lifted me up, like I was as light as air and carried me to the bed. He laid me back and kissed my neck and shoulders as he gently unbuttoned my shirt. Working his way down, stopping only a few moments at my breasts to kiss and fondle them. The touch of his tongue against my already erect nipples, sent tingles all through me. Making my back arch up to him and my hands grabbing him by his hair and pulling him to me, as I came very close to losing myself in the sensation. I kept my eyes closed, afraid that if I opened them, he would disappear. His large hands moved down my sides as his kisses trailed toward my waiting pussy. His hot breath on my nether lips sent an indescribable sensation through me. A sensation that I liked way too much. He hesitated. I didn't know why. I was afraid to look, to open my eyes. The anticipation was killing me. A barely audible moan of expectation escaped through my lips. Then without warning his tongue was snaking between my lips and making me squirm. He was doing things with his tongue that I didn't know was possible. I had never felt such pleasure. My hips began to rock back and forth in the rhythm of his working tongue and I began to shiver with pleasure. An orgasm like no other raced through my body so intensely that my toes curled! I began to chant and squirm as each wave passed through me. Finally I was spent and still he licked and teased me. I lifted my head and opened my eyes to look at him, and found myself alone and disoriented. I was in my own bed and it was quite dark. The bedside clock said it was 3:00 a.m. I was sweating like I had just run a mile or two, and the inside of my thighs were wet and sticky. Still a little disoriented and a little embarrassed at the content of the dream, I headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. As I removed my overly big button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, my mind drifted off to the memory of the dream where he had removed it for me. I turned on the water and adjusted it to the right temperature and stepped under the spray of hot water. As my head passed under the showerhead and I shut my eyes, I felt him, naked and in the shower behind me. Soaping the washcloth to scrub me clean. Reaching around me to pull me back towards him. Feeling my breasts with soapy hands. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was alone. Tired and needing my rest, I showered quickly and headed for bed. Saving the shower scene for when I had more energy, I drifted off to sleep with invisible arms holding me close to my fantasy. Insanity Plea "Mr. Reid," a shy, yet determined, voice said from behind me. I turned around while my mind told me to just keep walking away. I wasn't supposed to have returned for at least three more hours, but my date went south quickly after spending about fifteen minutes with the psychotic woman. So, here I was, in a very peculiar situation. I had walked in the front door about ten minutes earlier, and found that the babysitter I'd hired to watch my six-year-old son didn't seem to be anywhere. I looked around, and found only Andy (aforementioned son) sleeping in his room upstairs. After passing the bathroom twice, I realized on my third pass that the light was on. I wasn't even thinking that anyone was in there, just that somebody had forgotten to turn off the light. I opened the door, my hand moving toward the light switch, when I caught the babysitter, Ellie, doing something private. You might take that to mean she was answering nature's call, but that wasn't quite what I meant. To spell it out plainly, she was diddling herself on the toilet! So here we were, with me walking toward the front door, quite dumbstruck, explaining that I would no longer need her services, but not giving her the real reason why. "Mr. Reid, please," she followed, her face no doubt scarlet from being so humiliated, "I don't usually do that while I'm babysitting! Just give me another chance!" "I'm sorry, Ellie," my heart slammed in my chest from the sheer excitement of what I'd only seen for an instant. But that instant had drastically changed the way I saw the babysitter I'd hired only a week ago, once the school year had ended. She had babysat for one of my neighbors, which was how I had come to hire her. Now, instead of the shy, innocent, blonde-headed eighteen-year-old girl I had hired, there was this woman with long, thick, luxuriant blonde hair that spilled down to the small of her back, a smooth, femininely sculpted face with a pert nose, bright, greenish-gray eyes, a smallish mouth with a set of moist, plump lips that begged for attention, and a graceful, delicate neck. As if that wasn't enough, her body, which had apparently begun to develop early, held such potential that I was certain that she was routinely followed around school by scores of teenage punks whose hormones were in full chaos. Her breasts, though not abundant, were perky and rife with possibilities. They strained against her shirt proudly. Her waist, while not narrow enough that I could wrap my hands completely around them, were narrower than her hips, which swirled out about half-an inch past her waist. I hadn't yet really seen her butt, not in this new sense of perception, but if her hips were any indication, I would be plenty impressed if I saw it. She stood about 5'6", a good four inches shorter than me, but her smooth, firm legs seemed to stretch down forever, from her thighs, to her shapely calves, to her slender ankles, ending with her dainty feet encased in a pair of white, lace-up shoes. Only eleven minutes ago, I had seen her with her red denim, mid-thigh shorts around those slender ankles, her white cotton panties ensnared at her calves, and a small thatch of blonde pubic hair leading to where her fingers were so industriously prodding and probing. Now that so-brief image played unceasingly in my mind, the widening of her eyes, the way her moist lips formed an 'o' to frame her smallish mouth, and the way her body had tensed up, startled and mortified. Now this young woman was trailing me, still pleading for me to stop, and why, so she could explain herself? I'd seen enough to figure out exactly what she was doing by herself in the upstairs bathroom. If I were to let her remain Andy's babysitter, every time I looked at her, I would see that image, and though I had been single for nearly a year, I couldn't be willing to resort to anything so twisted as sexual thoughts of a woman nearly twelve years my junior. Hell, I scorned other men for their affairs with women that much younger than them! But her panicked begging won out, and I slowed down, coming to a grudging stop just before the foyer. Finally, I turned to face her, a little apologetic, but in no way surprised to see twin tracks of tears under her eyes. "Mr. Reid, I'm so sorry," her voice quavered and her words rushed forth, "I don't know what the heck came over me, it's just that my boyfriend and I started fooling around a few weeks ago, but he's so ignorant, never does anything to make it feel good for me, that's why I haven't gone all the way, because I'm sure he'd be so horrible and ruin my first time, and I was so...you know, that I just had to take care of myself, and I checked six times to make sure Andy was asleep before I... you know, and...and..." She seemed to replay what she had just blurted out, and she looked like she might faint, she was so mortified. "I... uh," I stumbled awkwardly, "Well, I guess maybe I reacted a bit harshly, but... You've got to understand, seeing what I saw, that really changes things." "Please don't fire me," she begged, "I really need this job. I promise I'll try to... uh, control myself better." Nothing good could come of this, I knew, but I just didn't have the heart to send her away, and doubted I'd be able to unless it meant that Andy was being neglected or, God forbid, placed in harm's way. "Okay, fine, you get a second chance. I know, at your age, you're gonna feel some intense urges. I'm not that old that I don't understand that. At my job, it happens a lot for me. I just find different outlets to distract myself, do you know what I mean?" She nodded, feeling already awkward about all this, but suddenly she had this glint in her eyes that hadn't been there a minute ago. I didn't try to read into this new look. "I know," she admitted, "For me, it's all this pressure from my friends. Most of them have gone a lot further than I have with... that, and it's like they expect me to do it too. And there's always a few guys who are cute, but they're so... I don't know, immature comes to mind. I just can't stand them. Then, like I was saying, about my boyfriend and all that, well... it was just too much for me to stand. I'll try harder, Mr. Reid." I nodded, "Yeah, okay. Well...um... I haven't felt this awkward with a person for quite a while. I know I'm probably not someone you'd normally talk to about your peer-pressure and stuff like that, but now... if there's anything you need to talk about, don't think twice about telling me about it. I had to deal with that stuff too in high school. Hell, being a jock made it that much more trouble. It kind of made me want to join the chess team or something." Ellie smiled shyly, "Yeah...you know I'm on the chess team, right?" It was my turn to get red-faced, "Shit... I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it." She shrugged, "It's okay. That's the sad truth. Even us chess geeks are dealing with all that pressure. It's just not fair. That's the only reason I agreed to be his boyfriend. I figured that if I just do it and get it over with so they'll leave me alone." "Wow..." I blinked, "That's a sucky way of looking at your first time. It's supposed to be something special, not a deed you do just to get it out of the way." I went into the kitchen, with Ellie following close behind. I was feeling quite dry-mouthed, so I figured a drink was just the thing for that. I offered Ellie a drink, and when she nodded, I handed her a bottle of Coke. She opened it and drank deeply, her throat muscles working expediently in her slender neck. I peeled my eyes from her with some effort, busying myself with my own drink. "I watched this movie once, when I was eleven," she confessed, "It was a pretty corny romance movie, so completely unreal, but I got all starry-eyed when I saw the love scene. It was PG, so they didn't show anything but them moving around under the sheet, but that's what got me curious. I could never ask my dad about sex or anything, I'd be too embarrassed, and I couldn't even bring the subject up with my mother. I tried that once, and got such a heated lecture about my virtue and how I must wait until I'm married that I thought she was a nun or something." "Yeah, parents are rarely any good about that subject," I agreed. "So," she continued, "I started trying to find stuff about it in the library, but they seem to want to pretend that sex doesn't even exist. I tried looking it up on the internet, and got hit with so many pop-ups that I thought I'd mess up the computer. The only learning material I had was my friends and a few porn magazines they had, which, as you can guess, isn't much to work with." "So..." I had reservations about bringing up current events, but I figured if I'd offered to be that person she could talk to, I shouldn't be stingy, "How did you learn... you know, what you were doing earlier?" Just like that, her face went red again, and she found something interesting to look at in the patterns of the linoleum floor, "Um...I don't want you to think I'm some crazy pervert." "I don't," I assured her, "I know exactly how normal all of this is. I mean, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. I know this is pretty personal stuff." She shrugged, "I've already told you so much personal stuff... I guess I might as well... 'tell the truth and shame the devil,' my mother always says. I was at my friend Tracy's house one night, and we were talking about stuff she and her boyfriend did. She told me that her boyfriend likes to watch her...um... while she... masturbates. I'd... you know, touched, but I had no idea what I was doing. I told her this, and she insisted on showing me. It wasn't enough to just explain it, she had to demonstrate." My next thought was out of my mouth before I could catch it, "With you?" She laughed, still embarrassed, brushing a lock of hair out of her face, "No, she did it to herself. It was kinda funny, actually. I'd never realized how uninhibited she was about this stuff. She didn't even hesitate, just got undressed and started right up. After that, she tried to get me to join in. I didn't want her to think I was a prude, so... I did. It was so weird, you know? It was like she didn't care if it was with me or her boyfriend, she was so sex-crazy that it didn't matter." I figured that I didn't need to have her elaborate on that particular night, "I guess that's one way to learn things about yourself. Have you...ever had an orgasm?" What? Did I actually ask her what I heard myself ask? I was supposed to diffuse this whole subject, and instead I was starting to feel like I was trying to be her teacher or something! She blushed once again and nodded, refusing to look me in the eye. "And are you able to curb yourself that way?" "Well... I thought it would, but I found that the more I do it, the more I want to do it. And my friends, especially Tracy, makes sex out to be so much fun that I can't help but wonder if I'm depriving myself of something more than just a private...session in my room. " "And your mother tells you to wait until you're married? Yeah, most parents are like that, I guess." "She's probably right, but just fooling around with my boyfriend, it all feels so... awkward, fumbling around, since he obviously knows about as much about it as I do. I may be wrong, but I really don't want my wedding night to be like that. It just doesn't seem so special then. And if the guy I marry does know more about it than me, I'd feel so stupid having him teach me stuff on my own wedding night." I listened to her rationalize on a subject that is overblown and turned into a quest for the holy grail, wondering about exactly what Tracy had taught her on that night. She continued, "It'd be nice, I think, to have some knowledge I could use so that the guy wouldn't think that maybe he had made some big mistake in marrying such an ignorant and fumbling girl." "I can understand that, I think. It'd be like taking a test on something you've never learned." "Exactly!" she grinned, and my heart turned over a little at the sight. She was so beautiful, a grown woman one minute, and just a woman-child the next. "But in order to learn the right things to do, you'd have to find a guy who is knowledgeable in this subject." "Yeah," she sighed irritated, "And you see my dilemma." A thought had already begun forming in my head, and I quashed it with much moral force, only to have it sprout up again. I'm sure you can figure it out easily. Each time it sprouted back up, I felt like a pervert for allowing it to fester even for a brief second. I happened to glance at her, and damned if I didn't see that glint in her eyes, same as before! "I'm not sure if I could be much help in that regard," I told her in an attempt to quash the thought in my head, and perhaps her own as well, "After all, I am divorced, so apparently I'm not much of an authority on the subject." I watched with both relief and disappointment as that glint left her eyes, and she regained some semblance of common sense, "Yeah... anyway, since you're home, and Andy's asleep, I guess I should go home." I cleared my throat, "Um... okay, so how much do I owe you for tonight?" She blinked, "Oh, yeah... well, two hours since you came home early, so sixteen dollars." I extracted a twenty from my wallet, and she admitted, "Oh, I don't have any change. If you want, you can pay me tomorrow." "It's okay, take it. You do a good job watching Andy, and he hasn't run you off yet." She began to reach for the twenty spot, hesitated, and then took it, "Thank you so much. And... thank you for talking to me. It's nice to be able to talk to someone without all that pressure being put on me." "It's no problem," I shrugged, "I'm happy to help." As you can probably imagine, going to sleep became a moot issue. And as you can also surmise, my thoughts were extremely focused and unwilling to shut off. I managed a broken pattern of dozing off at around four-thirty in the morning. A long shower didn't do much to wash the weariness from my head, and a couple mugs of coffee did only marginally better. Andy woke up around eight-forty and trudged into the living room to watch his Saturday cartoons. "Morning, champ," I flopped down into my recliner with my third cup of coffee. "Morning Dad," he responded automatically, his eyes never leaving the TV. He was a stickler about his cartoons. I watched a few minutes of the cartoon, and then headed upstairs. On impulse, I stopped at the upstairs bathroom. That same image I'd gone over last night began playing on a loop in my head, the wide eyes, the surprise of catching her with her pants down, literally (except that she was wearing shorts, can't forget that), those shorts around her ankles, panties at her calves, such smooth-looking, firm legs spread apart. And then, with no surprise whatsoever, I was sporting an almost painful erection. My senses argued, railed at me to keep on walking and just forget it, head on forward to my room, get dressed, and get on with my day. There was no way I could be her mentor, not for that. She should learn from someone else, someone closer to her own age, not a divorced man with a six-year-old son. What would Andy say if he just happened to stroll on in while I was playing teacher with his babysitter? This was quite a rational argument, and obviously the right one. I opened the door to the upstairs bathroom and turned on the light, for an instant seeing Ellie there on the closed toilet, fingers meticulously busy bringing her to a self-stimulating orgasm. I stared at the toilet lid on which she'd sat, wondering perversely if she'd leaked any of her juices onto the lid. She wouldn't have thought to wipe them off, as she was busy yanking her panties and shorts up to chase after me. "Good God!" I hissed suddenly after taking a step closer to the toilet, "Are you that damn depraved?" That seemed to shake some sense into me. I flicked the switch and shut the door, rushing to my room with my obvious erection to point the way. It was a picturesque Saturday, complete with small patches of puffy, white clouds, a piercingly blue sky, noisy birds in flight, neighbors walking dogs, a group of little girls drawing on a driveway with sidewalk chalk, the smell of fresh air, fresh grass clippings, and burning charcoal briquettes preparing to scorch some burgers or steaks. A few kids rolled by on bicycles, hooting and laughing, the essence of boyhood freedom. I encouraged Andy to get dressed, with promises of teaching him how to throw a Frisbee. He raced upstairs to his room. It was slow going, teaching him how to curl the disc, when to let go, and how to catch it. I floated a few passes his way, but he couldn't seem to capture it. I encouraged him, telling him that he was doing pretty good for his first time with a Frisbee. He seemed heartened by that. We went out to lunch at a pretty snazzy burger place with over a dozen types of burgers, some of the best seasoned fries I'd ever tasted, and milkshakes so thick you could flip the cup and not lose a drop. We indulged, and I felt no guilt about that, considering the next few weeks he'd spend at his mother's place in California. No doubt she'd have him eating tofu burgers and soy fries. I don't agree with parents who let their kids eat until their weight balloons out of control, but I also don't believe in depriving my son of some of the simple delights of childhood. He could act like an adult and make grown-up decisions when it was his time to, but I refused to force it on him. Let children be children. We finished our lunches and walked around town, window shopping here and there, gawking at everything. As we passed a clothing store for women, Andy looked up at me. "Daddy, do you still love mommy?" It happened here and there, often enough for me to wonder just how his perceptions could be se sharp, that he could seem so...wise. "Well," I allowed, "I guess in a way, I'll always love your mother. We're just too different for us to be happy together." "You mean because you're a boy and she's a girl?" "Sometimes, yes, but mostly because the things she wants are different than the things I want." "Oh," he tugged on his upper lip in a gesture of deep thought, seemingly too deep for a little kid. "I want you to know," I got his attention, "Your mother and me splitting up was in no way your fault. There were problems even before you were born. We both love you." "Okay, Daddy," he smiled, "Hey, can we rent a movie?" The next morning, I felt a dark depression setting in as I saw Andy's mother 's Dodge Charger pull into my driveway. She got out, came up to me, and asked where Andy was. "Hello, how are you?" I rolled my eyes, "Sure, I'm doing good, glad you asked." "Can it," she replied coolly, "Where's Andy?" As if on cue, Andy came outside with his cartoon-themed rolling suitcase. "Hi, Mommy," he smiled. "Are you ready to go?" Lori asked, almost completely ignoring me. Andy nodded, "Sure, Mommy." She stared at Andy for a few seconds, and then turned to me, "Have you been feeding him junk again? You know I hate that. He's got to eat healthier, not binging on chips and soda and greasy burgers." Not really able to help myself, I joked, "It's only the finest lard and grease for our boy." "Great," she threw her hands up in the air, "Sure, just make a big joke of it, and we'll see how you're joking when he dies at twenty-five of a heart attack. Is that what you're after?" "Lori, don't you dare lecture me about our son's health. You'll end up malnourishing him with your endless tofu and bean sprout recipes. He needs meat just as much as he needs greens." "You know," she shut me off completely, "I have better things to do than listen to your jabbering. I know what's best for my son, thank you very much." Insanity Plea "Our son," I corrected. "Yes, unfortunately for Andy and me." I was peeved, and about to retaliate with much venom, when I happened to glance at Andy. He was trying bravely not to cry, but I could see how much mine and Lori's arguing was hurting him, so I caged my brutal retaliation. I instead pointedly ignored her, squatting down in front of Andy, "Hey, champ, you be good, okay? I'll see you in two weeks. I love you, little buddy." He hugged me, clutching a little desperately for a moment, making me wonder just how much he even wanted to see his mother, let alone spend two weeks with her. But finally, he let go and got into the back of Lori's car. Lori appeared to have something to say about my ignoring her, but I cut her off, hissing, "Not in front of Andy, damn you. He doesn't need to hear this." "As if you are any authority on parenting," she spat, but her voice did lower considerably, "Just so you know, I'm petitioning the court for full custody. Andy doesn't need such a bad influence around him, polluting his mind." "You bitch, you just try it," I warned, "I'll make sure you look like an evil kid-mill pit boss before it's all said and done. Andy needs his father." "Oh, he'll have a father, much better than you, which isn't all that hard to accomplish." "You mean the bastards you've been shacking up with? There's a good lot! I suppose whatever asshole you're screwing will have him hooked on Crack in a year." I felt a bit low for all this, but, if you'd ever met Lori, you'd realize that she inspires this kind of reaction from a lot of people. She looked an inch from swinging at me, "You don't want to fuck with me, Chris, you don't dare!" I kept my voice low, "The only good that came of me fucking you is Andy. I regret everything else we had. Now get out of here, and you'd better think long and hard about what you're talking about. You aren't the only one with aces up your sleeve. Drive carefully, now. You're driving for two." I walked back up to my front door, hoping that she wouldn't end up wrapping herself and Andy around a tree. Not that I'd particularly mourn her passing, but Andy's passing would crush me completely. As she drove away, too fast for this neighborhood I decided, I prayed for Andy's mental and physical health. Before I could go inside to vent my anger, I felt somebody's presence behind me. I turned to find Ellie there, her face pale, her eyes moist. "I take it you heard all that," I said quietly. "It was so awful," she said just above a whisper, "Is she always like that?" "She wasn't at first. Maybe I just brought out the worst in her." "I don't believe that, Mr. Reid. I just don't believe that at all." "So," I asked, "What brings you?" "I forgot my purse here," she looked at the bricks of the front step of my house, "I didn't even realize it until I got home, but then it was too late." "Okay, come on in." She looked around, and saw her purse, a small, black bag with pink stitches. "There it is," she picked it up. Then she looked at me, seeing what was obviously a depressed man, "Do you think she'll try and take full custody?" "I really hope she doesn't. She's got a pretty good chance of getting him, just on the fact that she's his mother." "But she's so...horrible, threatening you like that. You're such a good father to him, and it's obvious that Andy thinks so too. He talks about you all the time when I'm watching him." That brightened my gloom a little. Andy was such a good kid, and brave, too. Any father would be proud to have a kid like him. "Oh yeah?" I mused. "Absolutely," she beamed, "You should see how much he looks up to you." She had already found her purse, but seemed reluctant to go. Not feeling like being in the house alone, I invited her in for a drink, and she agreed happily. We sat at the counter, side by side facing the center island, drinking a couple of sodas. "Mr. Reid," she started, and I put up a hand to halt her. "Call me Chris." "Okay...Chris...well, I wanted to thank you again. It was really nice having someone to talk to, someone who really understands the pressure I've been under." She came forward unexpectedly and slid her arms around me, hugging me tightly against her. I was overly aware of her body, fit and so feminine, pressed against mine, and when she pulled away, she was blushing as if she hadn't expected it either, though she had initiated it. "I've got to go," she said quietly, "I've got some errands to run, and maybe a party. But let me know when you need me to watch Andy. You still have my number, right?" I nodded, "I've got it. And Ellie?" She looked at me expectantly. "Regarding what we talked about before... if and when you finally decide to... make sure it's what you want to do, and not what others want you to do. Okay?" "I will. Thanks, Mr. Re-... I mean, Chris." I watched her leave, aware that instead of shorts, she was wearing a skirt that was slightly shorter than the shorts she had been wearing the night before last, and in the daylight, her legs looked even smoother and softer, yet still firm. And though her skirt wasn't exactly form-fitted, I could see the impression of a round, very well developed butt under it. As if aware of the feeling of being watched, she turned slightly, looking directly back at me, and I hurriedly nodded, concentrating on the bottle of soda in my hand. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the smile on her face, and I realized that she'd picked that outfit just to get my attention. Apparently it had worked. "I'll see you later, okay?" she continued to smile as she left. The house was silent without the sound of Andy's cartoons, or his laughter. In fact, with his presence elsewhere, the house seemed...empty, as if it had been abandoned. In an almost panicked gesture, I turned the radio on in the kitchen, setting it to a classic rock station just to dispel the depressing gloom. Then, as I waited for the commercials to end, and the music to play, I kept expecting Andy to walk into the kitchen and ask what I was doing, only to realize that he had in fact left about twenty minutes ago. Suddenly, unbidden, the image of Ellie in the bathroom played in my mind, and equally unbidden, it continued to play into some kind of fantasy where, instead of hurrying away, I proceeded to walk into the bathroom, drop to my knees, and begin to pleasure her as she clutched my head, pressing it against her in a lustful way. Then I stood up, turned her around, bent her over, and slid my erection deep inside her to give her the best first time anyone has ever given. Against my better judgment, I let the fantasy progress, and didn't even wonder how absurd I must've looked, clutching a half-empty bottle of soda, a major tent pitching on the front of my jeans, breathing like I was having an asthma attack. I had to take care of this before I passed out or something. I put the bottle down, went upstairs to the bathroom, and had to relieve myself into a wad of toilet paper. Yeah, it wasn't one of my prouder moments, I must admit, but it was probably one of my more relieving sessions. Either way, sated for the moment and free of that particular fantasy. I flushed the soiled wad of toilet paper and zipped my pants back up. I needed to get out of the house for a bit, and as I walked down the stairs, I decided that I would go shopping for things for Andy. Newly motivated, I grabbed my keys and wallet and left. I spent most of the day at different stores, looking around and browsing through aisles. I happened to find several DVD's of cartoons and animated movies, which I bought for him. I debated with myself about getting a pretty cool looking game system, and decided against it for the time being. I figured that I'd just bring him there myself once I had him back and surprise him with it. After that, I couldn't figure out anything else to do until I passed by a restaurant and my stomach demanded to be fed. I turned around and stopped at the restaurant to eat. The aromas of several different dishes caught my nose as I walked in, and the hostess, a brunette of about twenty-something (way closer to my own age), found me a table. She smiled as I thanked her, and disappeared around a corner. When the waitress showed up, a slightly overweight, but still attractive woman with red hair took my order and snatched up my menu with a flourish, her wide hips swinging as she went to fill my order. I sat at the table, achiningly aware that I was there alone. I'd been married to Lori for about five years, plenty long enough to realize that the sweet, thoughtful Lori I'd married was not the real thing. In reality, about a week after the vows were made, the switch began. It started out small, irritations with some of my less scrupulous habits, arguments about my job, which then had been a security firm. She couldn't stand my long hours, and made that unmistakably aware. From there, it progressed to my lack of ambition. "You could easily be a manager by now," she would say, "I just don't understand why you're okay with where you are. You could be a boss." "I don't need to be anyone's boss," I'd reply, "In fact, there's a whole lot more stress involved with being a boss that isn't worth the pay increase." "But you could be making more money, and I wouldn't have to work at my shitty job anymore." I would inquire as to why her job as an assistant manager of a salon was so shitty, and it would only get worse from there. Then, it became my eating habits. It wasn't really how much I was eating, but what I was eating. That began her health food kick. She literally threw out most of the food in the fridge and pantry, replacing it with some really odd stuff that regularly tasted as bad as it looked. I began eating at home less, which only pissed her off more. She would rant and rave that I'd be dead by thirty if I kept on eating "that processed, greasy, toxic junk." Our sex life hadn't visibly suffered yet until the end of the third year. She got in the habit of claiming she was exhausted once she'd gotten hers, and I'd be left there, so damn horny it hurt, and a sore pair of balls that I'd have to relieve by myself. I resorted to bringing home porn movies to make it easier for me, and she about hit the ceiling over it, claiming that it demeans and perverts women and that my bringing it home meant that I'd rather watch porn than be with her. So, to appease her, I threw out the porn. That same night, we were having sex, and I happened to come at the same time as her. She apparently had not expected that, and she was near-screaming at me as she attempted to use the detachable showerhead to wash my spend from inside her. "I can't believe you fucking did that, you asshole!" she snapped, "I haven't been taking my damn pills because they fuck with my periods, and you pick now to shoot your stuff in me?" It happened to only take that one time for her to get pregnant. On my behalf, I tried to keep things sane while she bitched constantly as her moods became worse. By the time Andy was born, I was praying that his birth would calm her down, that maybe she'd be too focused on him to even think about me. I was wrong. For the remaining four years, Andy was the reason I held onto the marriage, but it must've been hell for him. When he was two, he almost drowned in the bathtub. According to Lori, that was my fault, though I was at work, since I had called to let her know that I was going to be working late that night. That call would've lasted only a minute, but she decided to mount a long argument about how my priorities should change, meaning I should be home more for Andy. The argument lasted almost five minutes longer than it should've, and she hadn't even mentioned that Andy was in the tub yet, until she used him as a reason for me to be home. She dropped the phone then, and I suddenly heard screams over the phone and raced home. She managed to get him breathing again while I drove home like a madman, and he was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch when I raced through the door. "If I'd had to rely on you, he would be dead now," was Lori's greeting for me. "You're the stupid bitch who left him alone in the tub!" I cried indignantly. "Yes, to answer your call. If you hadn't insisted on staying at work late, you wouldn't have had to call me. It's your fault this happened." "If you hadn't turned a minute-long conversation into a five minute argument, this wouldn't have happened. Are the paramedics on the way to take him to the hospital?" "I didn't call the paramedics. I'm the one who got him breathing." "Yes," I gritted my teeth, "But he needs to be seen by a doctor." "He's fine now, no thanks to you." "I'll bet you didn't call because you know it's your fault for leaving him there. You're so worried about looking like the bad mother that you refuse to get him medical help." It went on and on, and I tried to keep us together for Andy's sake, but I knew it had to be just short of unbearable for him, so one sunny morning, after quite a restless night of contemplation, I told Lori that I wanted a divorce. The divorce itself went pretty smoothly until it came to Andy. Both of us wanted sole custody of him, but I knew from the accounts of others that in these cases the mother usually ended up with the custody. Of course, I was surprised when Lori suggested to both our lawyers that we share custody. At least, at first I was surprised. Then I figured that if she tried for sole custody I might bring up one specific night when Andy was only two. The waitress arrived with my food, breaking my hold of those not so sweet memories, and I thanked her. While I dug into my carne asada fajita, I wondered what had changed Lori's mind about applying for sole custody now. Perhaps it was a selective memory that had her convinced that she would win. I would keep quiet unless she tried to go through with it. Looking back on our marriage, or more specifically, on the period before, while we were still dating, I could see little telltale signs, barely noticeable now, unnoticed back then. How could I have not known who she really was before I married her? Was she that good of an actor? The two weeks dragged by, as if time had slowed down just to extend my misery in some sick, cosmic joke of which I was the butt. But on that particular Sunday, I was actually happy to see Lori's Charger pull up, but happiest to see Andy jump out of the car. "Hey Dad!" he raced over to me, and I picked him up, conscious of, but ignoring the twin laser beams of hatred and jealousy that burned into my back, courtesy of Lori. "Hey, kiddo," I was also aware of how much thinner Andy was. Just what had Lori been feeding him? Lori finally put the car in park and got out. I urged Andy to go on inside. I wasn't stupid enough to expect a "How do you do?" from her, and I didn't get one in any form. "I see you've brainwashed him to hate me," she seethed. "I didn't brainwash him to do anything. Maybe he just doesn't like eating oats and tofu from a feedbag." Ignoring my reply, she continued, "I'd just bet that if he were asked, he'd say he would rather live with you. You know what? I don't care anymore. I don't even want that ungrateful, spoiled little shit under my roof." I was fully tired of this argument, knowing where and how far it would progress, so I held my hand up, "You know, I really don't care what insane fantasy you've concocted in that malnourished brain of yours, but if you insist on yelling at me, I'd just as soon go inside. I'm sure Andy's hungry, and he could use a sandwich. You have a nice life, and let me know what you decide." With that, I left her sputtering at my door, closing it in her face. Seconds later, I heard her car door slam, her engine start up with a scream, and the screech of her tires as she backed out of my driveway. Once I heard her engine fade, I backed away from the door and went to see what Andy was up to. It was quite amusing to see a six-year-old so interested in my love life, or lack thereof. Within two days of his return, he insisted I go on a date. I told him that going on a date required a lady-friend to go on the date with. As he puzzled it out in his head, my mind invariably returned to Ellie, the swish of her skirt as she walked away, her look that said that she knew what I was looking at, and that she wanted me to look. I began wondering in a fit of morality if I shouldn't just fire her anyway and find her someone else to babysit for. Then there was no possible reason for her to be upset with me, because it would be the equivalent of a transfer. Andy said something that I didn't catch, and I turned to him, "Say again?" Andy repeated, "What about Ms. Ellie? She likes you, I think." I blinked, "Say what? Why would you think that?" "She talks about you, and asks me questions about you." "Questions? What kind of questions?" Andy grinned, "She asked me how long you been divorced, and if you date a lot, and stuff like that. You should date her." Had she been gathering information about me? I played the morality card, "Andy, I can't date Ms. Ellie. She's only eighteen, and I'm thirty-two. She's way too young for me to date her." "So? A lot of guys are dating younger ladies. I see it on TV all the time." "Just because a lot of people do that, it doesn't make it right." Andy frowned, struggling to understand, so I elaborated, "Stealing is wrong, isn't it?" He nodded. "And if a lot of people stole stuff, it would still be wrong." "But you're not stealing stuff. Ms. Ellie's a grown-up, right? So you're both grown-ups, and if you wanted, you can go on a date with her. Do you think she's pretty?" I began to wonder if Ellie hadn't put these ideas in his head. The job transfer idea seemed more like a good idea. "Yeah, she's pretty," I allowed, "But she's still too young for me. Let's talk about something else... like what we want for dinner." He was smart for only being six, but the change of subject worked anyway. A week later, I met a woman at the gym. I couldn't see anything at all wrong with her, and she seemed genuinely interested in me, so I asked her on a date. When I called Ellie to let her know I needed her services, she readily agreed. Then I told her why, and her whole tone changed from cheerfulness to... I don't know...perhaps disappointment. I wasn't sure, but I could hear the difference in her voice. She still wanted the job, so she showed up. At six-thirty in the evening a week later, the door rang, and when I answered it, I was taken aback. Ellie, who, before one fateful moment when I had caught her in the bathroom, had been more of an androgynous acquaintance, looked stunning now. Her skirt was a bit higher, and tight-fitting to show her flared hips and round butt. Her legs were quite shapely now, and her feet were fitted with a pair of mid-heel, strap-backed sandals. Her body was quite striking, and I could see that she took the time to apply a light layer of makeup. "Uh," my tongue tied for a second before I could recompose myself, "Hi, Ellie. You're early." She smiled, noticing my initial reaction, "It helped me escape another grueling dinner with my folks. Can I come in, Mr. Reid?" I stepped back, and she walked past, still smiling alluringly. Andy rushed from the living room at the sound of Ellie's voice, and stuttered to a halt once he caught sight of her. "Ms. Ellie?" he goggled, "Is that you?" She grinned and waved, "Who else would it be?" "Wow!" was Andy's response, "Dad's right. You are pretty... you know, for a girl and stuff." I had to turn away quickly, stifling a mixture of a groan and laughter. "Thank you," Ellie curtseyed to Andy, "That's sweet of you." Insanity Plea "Um," I fought for the words, "I don't know exactly how long I'll be out. You've got my number...in case something happens, and I'll call if I'm any later than eleven. Are you sure your folks are fine with you staying so late?" 'And dressing like that?' I added mentally. "Sure," Ellie replied, "They know that I work hard, and my grades aren't a factor right now, anyway." "Good... well, I guess I'm off. Andy... naw, I don't need to tell you to be good. I know you're a good kid. Heck, I might even keep you." Andy giggled, very much the six-year-old at the moment, "You know you'd never get rid of me." "I don't know," I grinned, "They have these new models at the store I got you from... they're supposed to know calculus and how to do all the chores..." "Sure, but can they hug like me?" With that, Andy threw himself into my arms, reminding me that every argument, every fight, every cross word exchanged was completely worth it to have such a good kid. I hugged him back for a moment, and then put him down. "It's true," I affirmed, "You give the best hugs. I'll see you in the morning, okay?" I said goodbye, left, and went on my date with Carla Truman, the woman I'd met at the gym. Carla seemed to be a truly nice woman, but I was also judging her by Lori's standards. She didn't seem to have any of the mannerisms of my ex. She didn't even bitch and complain when her Gnocchi turned out a bit rubbery, just alerted the waiter politely to the situation. The waiter immediately took her plate back to be replaced. Unfortunately, as nice as she was, I just couldn't find any subject on which we could keep going for more than a few minutes. Her likes were typical, as were her dislikes. It was when she said that she just couldn't seem to get along with children that I knew that she was not the one. "It's not that I don't like kids," she admitted, "I just think that our personalities are always so different that we clash." We concluded the date on good terms, with a hug. She said she'd see me at the gym sometime, and I said I'd be there, and that was that. It was only ten when I returned home. Andy, if Ellie had followed the bedtime rule, would have been in bed for an hour by then. I pulled into the driveway, walked up to the front door, and went in. I found Ellie curled up on the couch, a novel in her hands. She glanced up at me once, and then again. "Uh oh," she said, "Another bad date?" "Not a bad date," I shrugged, "Just not my type, that's all." "I'm sorry," she frowned, though I didn't hear any of that 'sorry' tone in her voice, "That must be tough for you." "It's just practice, really. I'm getting better at spotting telltale signs that I'm on a date with the devil, like troublesome horns, a forked tail, and a trident in the back of the date's car." She smiled brightly, "I'm sure. I'll bet snake-eyes are a sure sign." "Those are also one of the hardest to spot, what with contacts." I sat down at the opposite end of the sofa with a sigh. She closed her book and set it beside her, gazing out one of the windows facing the front street for a moment. "I'd rather not go home right now," she said quietly. "I figured that." "I've had a lot of time to think, you know? Lots of time, and I've decided to lose my virginity. I'm tired of people making such a big deal out of it, telling me what I should do. It's my virtue, isn't it? It's my virtue. Therefore, it should be my decision where and with whom I lose it." I listened with growing dread (I'd be lying if I didn't admit the growing excitement as well), "So you've got a date with your boyfriend tonight?" She rolled her eyes and looked at me as if I should know better, which I did, "No, I broke up with him a week ago. I just didn't see sweating and fumbling in the back of his car for my first time. I need someone with experience, but also someone I can trust not to just take what he wants." "Listen, Ellie, I don't think I'm the one-" "Just stop," she interrupted, standing up, "Don't tell me you're not the one. I wouldn't have dressed up like this if I hadn't already decided on this. I want you to be my first. I want you to teach me everything you know. And I won't take no for an answer." Shit. This was going bad very quickly. Now it was either be her first, or she'd be hurt. I'm not a prick; I didn't just go around hurting people for the hell of it, but, damn it, I was 12 years older than her. At that point I was at a crossroads. It was either decline and probably send her off in tears or agree and be a pervert like those I'd shunned. Well, I was less likely to decline. As I was deciding, she walked over to me and knelt down at my knees. "How late will you be able to stay?" I asked, and she got her answer. Her hands stroked my thighs enticingly, and then grasped the pull tab of my zipper to unzip me. I stopped her and pulled her up to me, pressing my lips to hers. She responded favorably, her tongue seeking my own. It was apparent that her awkward fumblings in the back seat of her now ex-boyfriend's car hadn't taught her much. I could feel the awkwardness here as her lips pressed against mine. I backed off an inch to see that she knew of her inexperience; she was blushing. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm still not any good at kissing." "Don't apologize," I insisted gently, "Just follow my lead, okay?" I kissed her again, slowly and softly, allowing her to match me. Her lips trembled slightly with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. When I figured she had this part down, I introduced her to my tongue, easing it between her lips where she met it with her own. She learned quickly, and when my kiss grew more urgent and passionate, it took almost no time for her to match my intensity with her own. Surprised and immensely turned on, I stroked the back of her neck. I felt her shiver under my touch, moving closer until she could swing one leg over mine. I knew that if I were to look down, I'd have an unfettered view of her panties, but I somehow restrained myself from looking. I had to maintain control to ensure that if we went through with this it would be a great first time for her. After all, why else had she come to me if not for just that? I used my free hand to unbutton her light sea-foam green blouse slowly, exposing a black lace bra. When I pulled my lips away from her this time, it took her a second to catch her breath. Slowly she opened her eyes to look at me. "Did I do better this time?" she asked, ever shy, still breathing quickly. "You're learning very quickly. But... are you sure you want this with me? If we stop right here where we are now, we won't have taken this too far." "I want this," she insisted. "Okay... then I want you to relax. I already know what all this feels like on my end, so I plan on making this the best first time I can for you. Maybe later, if you'd like, I can teach you other things." She nodded, and I finished unbuttoning her blouse. She shrugged out of it and waited while I unhooked her bra, freeing her breasts. Her nipples, showing her excitement, jutted out stiffly, a brownish-pink hue. As she slid the straps off her shoulders and tossed the bra onto the couch next to her, I took a moment to cup the mounds of her breasts in my hands, brushing my thumbs against her stiff nipples. I heard a startled intake of breath and looked into her eyes, which glistened from the astonishing pleasure. When I took one of her nipples in my mouth and flicked it gently with my tongue. Her hands found my hair and held my head where it was. I could feel her trembling against me as I switched to her other breast, her excitement palpable. After a few minutes, I slid my hands down her sides to her hips and found the small clasp of her skirt, pushing the skirt halfway down her thighs before she helped. Her panties were far from the simple, white material, black and lacy, matching her bra. I could see the outline of her sex in the thin material. Her legs were smooth and supple, well-toned as I slid my hands over them. I moved slowly, allowing her time to enjoy the feelings I was doing my best to supply. My own excitement made it difficult to move this slowly; I was as I used to be as a teenager. When I began to slide her thin panties down her legs, she lifted up to assist. She had trimmed her pubic mound shorter than she had when I had last glimpsed it, though all she had left was a small triangle, same as before. Seeing it up close brought me close to the edge of control, and I had to steady myself with a few deep breaths. I stroked a few fingers through the small mound and down to slim, pink lips that guarded her virginity. She was surprised at my touch and jumped a little before remembering that this was what she wanted. Still, I paused, giving her a few seconds to relax before continuing. She was already moist, but almost as if I'd turned on a faucet, she began to leak her lubricating juices. With the juices came a most fresh aroma, slightly musky, but all erotic and electrifying. I was surprised as well, only for me it was seeing how tiny her little hole looked. I could tell that she was nervous, and I think I could understand why. I would have to be extremely careful when the time came. I began stroking her, from the bottom and up to her clit, using my index and ring finger along the lips and the middle finger to catch her clit and slide down the now well-lubricated slit. Her jumpiness seemed to melt as she watched my fingers. She leaned back and relaxed, submitting as I continued to stimulate her, up and down, up and down. There was already a wet spot on the couch, and it was only when I saw the spot that I realized that at any time Andy could come out of his room and see us. I'm sure he was rooting for us, but this would be too much for him to understand, nor did I want to put him in that kind of situation. "Let's go upstairs," I whispered, gathering up her shed clothes. She followed me upstairs and to my room, almost gliding past me as I closed and locked the door. She sat down and leaned back on the edge of my bed. She was so alluring in the light of my bedside lamp; her skin seemed to glow golden, her hair framed the light and shone with it. She tilted her head slightly, the excitement shining in her eyes. I went to her and knelt down in front of her. "I think you'll really enjoy this part," I assured. I leaned in and eased her legs open again. When my tongue made contact with her inner thigh, she gasped in surprise. "I think I will." I moved from the most sensitive areas of her inner thighs, and inward from there until I reached the center, where the juices were flowing copiously. I captured some of those juices in my mouth and immediately craved more. I delved inside her, cupping my tongue, and the more I lapped up, the more flowed, and the more I physically had to have. I could almost understand how a drug addict feels. She lay back, first sighing, then whimpering, moaning, and then gasping as my lips caught hold of her clit. I used my tongue to tease it, circling it, flicking, lapping, twirling, and it took only another minute before her body locked. Her thighs clamped against my neck almost painfully, and her hands clutched at my hair. "Oh-mi-God!" she whimpered, "Oh shit!" The juices, already plentiful, were nothing compared to the juices that flowed during her climax. I released her clit to lap it up. My mouth and cheeks and chin were slick with it. Finally, as her body relaxed, I leaned back slightly and stroked my hands up and down her thighs, noting in my mind how smooth and supple her skin was. She lay there, heaving breaths for a time, and then rolled onto her side. "Wow!" she whispered vehemently, "I've never been able to just let go like that." "It gets even better," I promised. "I don't think I could stand it." "We'll see." I got up on the bed and began to wipe the slickness from my face. "I can smell it," she said quietly. "Me too. How does it smell to you?" "Not bad," she answered after a beat. "Even better to me," I grinned. I moved up to her and pressed my lips to hers. She moved away slightly after a moment, "It tastes kinda weird though. Do you like how it tastes?" "I thought I already answered that." She laughed, "I guess you did." I reached down and captured some of her juices that I had missed earlier and presented the finger to her. "What do you want me to do?" "Taste it," I offered. She looked a little surprised, and then pulled the finger to her lips. She reached her tongue out and tasted the tip, hesitated, and pulled the finger slowly into her mouth. I could feel the suction of her mouth as she sucked my finger clean. When she released my hand, she smiled slightly. "It's not bad at all. I kinda want you to go down there again. It felt so good!" "I'll tell you what, I'll go down there again, and you can work on me a little." "What do- oh... you mean..." "Well, you don't have to, that's fine." "It's not that I don't want to, I just don't know how to do it." "I can teach you that," I offered. She looked nervous all over again. "It's okay, one step at a time, okay?" She nodded. I had her unzip and push down my pants. My erection was straining insistently at the fabric of my boxer-briefs. She pulled the waistband down and it popped out, startling her a little. She smiled and I pushed my underwear down and off. "Okay, first, you should get used to the feel of it in your hands. Go ahead and touch it." She took it in her hand, feeling the throb of my heartbeat through it. "Wrap your fingers around it and stroke it from the base to just under the head. Do that with a firm, but not too tight, grip." She obeyed and her warm hand moved up and down my length. She was intent on what she was doing, so much so that she wasn't aware of what I was doing until my tongue snaked out and dipped inside her. She gasped with the sudden pleasure of it. She continued to stroke me and I pressed my lips to her clit again and flicked it for a moment. Then I stopped. "Okay, now go ahead and taste it. Get just the head in your mouth for the moment." Her mouth was hot as she pulled the head in, closing her lips around it, the tip of her tongue flitting around to taste, then the rest of her tongue as she got into it. Before I could tell her to, she pulled more of me into her mouth, her lips sliding halfway down my length. Her tongue slathered me, bathed me in her saliva. "Oh, that's good," I complimented, "Now, work it in and out. Good, keep a light suction on it." She was a fast learner, and I went back to my pleasuring of her, submitting happily to her mouth on me. She came much quicker the second time, and I had to have her release me before I lost it. I moved back up to her and kissed her, this time not bothering to wipe my mouth. She didn't complain, starting to enjoy her taste a little more. I eased a hand between her legs and began slipping a finger inside her. Her vaginal walls, as tight as they were, squeezed my probing finger, milking at it. She shivered a little. "How does that feel?" I asked. "I like it," she answered, her hips beginning to move to push more of my finger inside her. I used only my index finger for a few minutes, and then tried my middle finger in addition. She winced a little and I relented. "Too much?" "A little," she whispered, ashamed, "I didn't expect it." I didn't try to add the second finger again. She was soaking the bedspread with her juices already. Meanwhile, she continued to suck on me, pulling a little bit more into her mouth. Other than the first few instructions I gave her, she had caught on quickly, a little too quickly, in fact. If she kept it up, it would be a little while before I could teach her anything else. I made her stop a minute later, and she seemed a little hurt. "Was I doing it wrong?" "No," I assured her, "You were doing it right. You were just getting a little too good at it. There's other things to teach you, unless you've changed your mind." "No, I want you to teach me. I want to learn everything." "Well, I don't know if I can teach you everything, but would you be satisfied learning everything I do know?" She nodded. "Okay, well, you've learned about foreplay so far, those things you can do before the main thing, but now it's time for the main thing." I had her lie on her back, and I eased a finger back inside her; I wanted her as prepared as possible to receive me. It felt like this would be no problem, but it would be a different story when I actually began to enter her. I continued to finger her until her lubricating juices flowed more copiously, and then I positioned myself. I rubbed the head of my erection against her slit and then eased it in. I stopped just past the head, but she still hissed through her teeth. I waited, feeling her vaginal walls tighten in anticipation. "You've got to relax as best as you can," I urged, "Otherwise, it'll hurt the both of us more." She did her best to do as I said, and when I felt the muscles loosen, I pushed halfway in. She cried out softly, wincing. "It's so big," she whimpered, "It might be too big." "I should stop," I began to retreat, but she grabbed my arm. "No, don't... I can handle it, I've just got to get used to it. Keep going." I held myself halfway within her for almost thirty seconds, watching as her face relaxed, and with it, her body. Then, partly because it'd be best not to continue to push inside slowly, as that would hurt her worse, and partly because she felt so good wrapped around me as she was, I shoved the rest of my length inside her, taking her virginity in one swift move. She cried out again, as much in pain as in astonishment at being so suddenly full of me. I stayed still for almost a minute as she got used to the feeling. When she appeared to be ready, I began to move within her. At first, she simply lay there, her pain hopefully abating, and she wasn't sure what she needed to do. "You can move with me," I suggested, and she did so, clumsily, and then, once she found my rhythm, she matched it. As I thrust gently, she lifted her butt up slightly to meet me, pushing more of me inside. The tightness of her was incredible, something I'd all but forgotten. I'd only felt that a few times before, all before my twenties. Her hands held onto my back, and she arched into me, sighing and cooing with the new pleasure. I continued to thrust, not in any hurry, just enjoying the feel of her, the exquisite silky texture of her as she gripped my erection wholly. "How does that feel for you?" I asked her, and she smiled. "Incredible," her smile widened, "It hurt at first, but Tracy already told me about that. After a minute, the pain kinda went away, and now it just feels great!" "Good," I smiled back, "Now, are you ready to try out some different positions?" "Sure. I want to try being on top." "Sounds like fun." Without pulling out, I rolled onto my back, pulling her with me until she straddled my hips. I put my hands on her hips and helped her figure out how best to move on me. Within the minute, she had it down. Then I just held on to her while she repeatedly impaled herself on me, enjoying every minute of it. She tried rocking on me, and then bouncing, apparently liking both as she alternated between the two. As she rode me, she found herself getting closer and closer, which I could tell from the noises she made and the increased pace. Her breasts, perky with youth, bounced as she did. Then she tensed, her fingers curling on my chest, her head down, her eyes wide. I felt a generous amount of her juices on my manhood and then on my crotch, and then she exhaled explosively, drawing out a restrained moan, attempting to keep quiet. When her climax spent itself out, she lay on me, still holding me inside her.