15 comments/ 85826 views/ 12 favorites T.F.W.B.C. By: Penelope Street © 2009 by Penelope Street Want to know what it's like to be the chubby, spectacled, second-chair trombone player with a unibrow? I can name that tune in two words: No dates. That's right, none. No dances or proms or even a movie. No holding hands, let alone a kiss. Not one boy from high school ever even pretended to be interested in me. I had some hope college might be different, but a year and a half later, the only ones ever to direct the word "love" at me were members of my family. I made a few new friends, but I can't say I was close to any of them. They were more like acquaintances. When I lived in a dorm, some of the girls even had one of those sex toy parties and didn't even invite me. Not that I needed any more toys. But it still hurt to be left out and maybe that's one of the reasons I started looking into an apartment for the next semester. Of course, there was no way I could afford one without a roommate, so that's where my search started. Being a college town, there was no shortage of online ads, and I was overwhelmed, even after narrowing my search to non-smoking females in my age group. I made list after list, but couldn't decide which to call first. That all changed when I read one particular ad. It started with the usual; where, when available, and how much, all within my search criteria, but it was the last line that caught my attention: Must be at least size sixteen. My brow shrouded my eyes while I tried to imagine why anyone would put such a restriction on a roommate. After staring for a few minutes, I decided I could at least find out why. I clicked the on-line link and responded that I met the qualifications and was interested to learn more. I was still perusing other possibilities when the chime announced I had an incoming message, which was: Hi Becky! I just got your note about the room. Can we chat about it over coffee? Let me know! Karen. By this time, I had some concerns she might be a lesbian seeking more than a roomie, or maybe something worse I couldn't even imagine, but I couldn't see any harm in meeting her for coffee. Karen turned out to be a young brunette who also met the physical qualifications expressed in her ad. We chatted about the usual things; our family, our majors, part-time jobs and hobbies. By the time I finished my coffee I was convinced she had to be a girl's girl, because everything else about her seemed too good to be true. When she asked if I had another question, I couldn't wait any longer. "Just one," I said. "Are you a lesbian?" "Lord no!" She leaned back and tilted her head. "Are you?" I shook my head. "No." She laughed and leaned back toward me. "I'm glad you asked though, because I have a few boyfriends and I really must stress this is a private part of my life." "Oh," I said with a swallow. "A few?" She nodded. "Yes. I'm usually out several evenings per week and most Sunday afternoons too. And if I bring a young man home, I hope it won't be too much to ask for you to make yourself scarce?" "You mean leave the apartment?" "Not necessarily," she said with a shrug. "But maybe just stay in your room until we retire to mine." She paused to grin. "Which won't be long." My eyelids fluttered in the face of her frankness. "I, uh, guess that won't be a problem. And I didn't mean to pry into your personal life, I was just curious why you wanted a roommate at least size sixteen?" Karen laughed again. "Oh, that? Why didn't you just ask? I just wanted someone to go clothes shopping with!" I'm sure I must have flushed ten shades of red. "I'm sorry," I offered. "I feel really stupid." "It's okay! I like honesty. Hope you do too. What are you anyway, a twenty-two?" My jaw and brow dropped in unison. Was this the honesty I was supposed to like? "No! Eighteen." Karen grimaced and shook her head. "We so need to get you into some real clothes. Ones that fit." "Oh, Please!" I said, shaking my head. "I can never find anything that fits." "Yes you can! Even if you can't quite find it on the rack, anything can be tailored. You just have to embrace the quest." Her eyes brightened. "I know! Why don't we go shopping now? What's your favorite?" I shrugged. "I usually just go to Target." "Gawd!" She rolled her eyes. "That handful of racks in the back corner? Tell me you're not serious!" So we went shopping. And not at Target. She even talked me into buying a thong because, as she put it, "The bigger the butt, the bigger the panty line." ~ ~ ~ I moved in with Karen the following week. Any lingering doubts I had about her orientation were laid to rest by the series of young men who called for her. When Valentine's Day arrived and again I didn't get one, jealousy got the better of me and I asked Karen how she met so many men. She shook her head, "I wish I could tell you just now, but I just can't. The instant I can, I will, but I'm afraid you'll have to allow me this one little secret until then. Okay?" Little secret? How could she think such a concealment could be little, let alone okay? I hoped she hadn't seen the tears form in the corners of my eyes when I turned and marched into my room. It was one thing for a clique of skinny dorm rats to not invite me to their precious fuckerware party, but this was something else entirely. I was half-tempted to follow her on Sunday just to see where she went, but she had implicitly trusted me not to and I had promised to respect her privacy. Plus she'd all but said there would be a time when she could tell me. I'd waited years for my first Valentine, why not wait a little longer? Spring came and went in the manner seasons do. The pressure of finals was enough that I managed to find something else to dwell on other than my non-existent love life. On the first Saturday after the semester ended, I awoke to the smell of bacon and found Karen in our little kitchen flipping eggs and chatting on her cell. "Perfect timing," she said, looking at me and closing the phone. "In more ways than one." "What?" "Have a seat and I'll tell you." I slid into a chair while my roommate carried the griddle to our table. "That was the call I've been waiting for since we met. I was hoping it'd be sooner, but I knew there'd be at least one opening at the end of the semester. There always is." My head leaned to one side. "What are you talking about?" "Where I go every Sunday." She slid into her chair and scooped an egg onto her plate. "Eat up. They get cold quick." "What about Sunday?" I asked, reaching for my egg and two strips of bacon too, just so she wouldn't have any additional excuse to get sidetracked. "I'm in this club, you see" she began, pausing for a bite. "But it's small and we like to keep it that way, so someone has to leave before someone else can join." She flashed a wide smile and looked my way. "And you're finally in!" My brow assumed its customary position low over my eyes. "I am?" "Well, not officially of course, but you're as good as. I've been singing your praises for months and you've been at the top of our prospect list since spring break. Mrs. Humphrey, she's like the president of the club, wants to see you tomorrow before our meeting at her house, if you can make it." I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. "What kind of club?" "Well, you've probably guessed it has to do with meeting men, haven't you? But, really, I'm not even supposed to tell you even that. Mrs. Humphrey will explain everything. I'm just so thrilled it doesn't have to be a secret between us anymore. You'll understand. I just know you will." She motioned to the untouched egg on my plate. "Now eat up, I didn't cook breakfast just to have you watch it get cold." ~ ~ ~ That Sunday I followed Karen to Mrs. Humphrey's house, if you could call it that- I would have labeled it a mansion. After polite introductions, the lady and I retired to a library where she asked most of the usual questions, like where I was born, did I have any siblings, and what was my major. Then, without the slightest bit of inflection, she asked, "Do you enjoy sex?" My eyes sprang wide. "I, uh," I began, trying to think of an honest answer besides admitting I did not know. "Okay." Mrs. Humphrey's head rocked in a slow bob. "Let me phrase it a different way. Do you like men?" I nodded my enthusiasm. "Yes!" She smiled. "There's a perception in our society that sex is for skinny girls." Her smile broadened and she leaned towards me. "Well, that's bullshit. The average woman is ten sizes larger than the typical model. Being average doesn't mean you're fat- it just means you're a true woman. That's one reason our current members call their group the True Friends With Benefits Club, the T.F.W.B.C. for short." Though I heard all her words, one ricocheted about my psyche: fat. It triggered all manner of unpleasant memories, from 'No Fat Chicks' bumper stickers to my little brother's merciless singing, "Joy to the world, the lard has come." "So that's what our little club is about," Mrs. Humphrey continued, "not letting arbitrary physical standards come between young ladies and the joyful passion that should be part of everyone's life." With that, she leaned back in her chair and folded her fingers across her lap. Within a few seconds I began to feel the weight of her stare and allowed my own eyes to wander. My mind wandered too and I granted myself a single deep breath to steady my nerves before I forced my attention back to her face. "Can you tell me a little more about your club?" "Like what?" I shrugged. "Like how do you enjoy these, uh, passions?" Her lips swelled in a close-lipped smile before parting. "The same way men and women have for, well, however long there have been men and women." My throat flexed through a dry swallow. "You're not, like, a madam, are you?" "Oh, child!" Her head fell back and she sent a laugh skyward. "No," she whispered, bringing her gaze back to me. "Nothing like that. You've heard of friends with benefits, haven't you?" I shrugged and shook my head. "Really? Well, that can be both good and bad. Friends with benefits refers to a situation where friends engage in sexual activity without any monogamous commitment or pretenses of long term relationships." My eyelids burst wide. "Yes," she said. "That's what our club is about." "And you want me to join?" She nodded. "Only if you want to, naturally. Of course, all our members would have to give their approval, but after meeting you in person, I'm sure that'll be just a formality." Again, I heard all of her words, but felt one of them. Approval. My eyes fell to the floor. "I see." "No," Mrs. Humphrey insisted. "I don't think you do. You still don't imagine a man can want you for your body, do you?" My eyes shot to my tummy and then to her face. "I don't know." "I do!" she said, all but leaping from her chair. "Well-meaning friends have probably told you about inner beauty so many times you don't imagine you have any other kind." She shook her head and sighed. "But nothing I say will convince you. It'll take a young man to do that. Perhaps several, but once they do, you'll wonder why you ever doubted." She came to the couch and slid onto the cushion next to me. "Our club works like this. Every Sunday we have a little party. Nothing fancy, snacks and pop. Mostly we visit, maybe play some cards. We plan it when a sporting event is on." She paused to smile. "For the men if they get tired of cards and chatting. After all, they are men." We shared a grin and a giggle before she continued, "Aside from staying in touch, appearing at the party says you're available for dating that week, but the boys aren't allowed to ask you out directly." Her eyes dropped and she chewed her lower lip for a breath or two. "You don't need to worry about the exact procedure, all a girl really needs to do is decide if she'd like one or two dates during the week, though I can't promise you'll always get two. We use a magnetic whiteboard for that and also for you to indicate which days are best for you." Did she just say I'd for sure get one? The corners of my mouth bounced upward at the prospect. "A day or two after the party," she said, "a boy will call you and ask you out. Where and when you go out is up to the both of you- however you have to go Dutch. It's important that there be no appearance that the man is paying for something later. You've heard of the third date rule, right?" "Sure," I said with a nod. "Well, our club has a first date rule." That single eyebrow leapt into my forehead as I inhaled a sharp gasp. "That's right, every date ends with sex, and we're not talking petting. So if that's not what you want, then this club isn't for you." As if my body thought I needed a hint, my thighs inched toward the sudden tingling between them. "What if it turns out I really like just one boy, you know?" "And you want to date him only?" I nodded. "If a couple wants to become exclusive, that's fine- but you both have to drop out of the club. If fact, that's the way many members leave the club. Speaking of exclusive, you do understand you aren't allowed to see any men outside of the club?" I nodded again. "Of course." "Also, I hope it goes without saying that we apply the same physical standards to the young men in our club." My head fell to one side. "The men are average too," she said with a grin. "I'm talking big noses and curves, zits and moles and tattoos. Maybe an attempt at a mustache. Just real young men, like you're a real young woman. I trust that's not a problem?" My consciousness visited each of the young men that had called on Karen. None of them would ever grace a magazine cover, yet with each recollection, my smile broadened. "Not a problem!" I concluded. "You should go home and sleep on it," Mrs. Humphrey said. "No point in going over all the little rules until you're sure. If you decide you are, your first party will also be something of an interview process. You need to decide if all the boys meet with your approval, and, of course, they have to make the same decision about you. I'm afraid if any of them doesn't want you in the club, then we can't accept you." My quivering lower lip fell along with my hopes. "New girls are always popular with the young men," she continued. "I can almost assure you that you'll be approved, I just can't quite promise. I hope you understand." I brought my dangling lower lip upward just enough to chew it. "So has it ever happened before, that a girl didn't get in?" She nodded. "It's happened a few times over the years, for both men and women, but I'm confident you have nothing to worry about. Now, why don't you go home and think about it? And I'll give you the address to the clinic where you can schedule your STD test, if you decide you're interested." On the way to my car, I wondered if there'd be a date on my test that showed how little time I'd needed to make my decision. ~ ~ ~ The party at Mrs. Humphrey's mansion was pretty much what she said it would be, the boys watching some car race and the girls chatting. Our conversation centered on the three F's: Food, fashion, and sex. Within a matter of a dozen minutes, the topic went from whether Avenue was better than Lane Bryant to fellatio techniques to the best marinade for salmon. No one, except perhaps me, seemed to think this was the least bit strange. If physical intimacy was the most personal act imaginable to the other girls, you wouldn't have known it- they were totally willing to share anything. While I tried to keep my attention on the conversations, I couldn't help but glance at the young men in the next room. To my pleasant surprise, there were always multiple pairs of eyes looking back. I'm not sure I can put into words how it felt to have men staring at me that way. Not looking me in the eye. Not wanting me for my mind. Outright ogling. I wondered if they talked about me in hushed tones when I wasn't looking. I sure hoped they were. Little more than a week earlier, I had wondered if any boy would ever want me. Now it seemed at least a dozen did! Before I knew it, I was standing before the whiteboard with Karen by my side. I put my first token on Friday, and the second to the side, indicating I was only interested in one date this week. "Please," Karen said, moving my second token to Tuesday. "You know you want two." "Probably," I admitted with a sheepish grin. "I just didn't want to look greedy." "Hey, it's okay to be greedy," she said. "Besides, the boys will all be so disappointed if you say just one. They'll wonder if you don't like them." "Really?" "Never underestimate how fragile the male ego can be," she replied. "Makes an egg shell look like granite." I shared her laugh. "Aren't the other girls going to be jealous of me getting all the attention?" "Probably. I know I am." "What?!" I half-gasped, half-whispered. "Chill," she said. "We may be jealous, but we remember what it's like to be the hottest babe at the party. Enjoy it." Hottest babe, me? I couldn't quite believe it yet, but enjoy it I certainly could. My cell phone chimed before I got home. Mrs. Humphrey had been correct, I needn't have worried- I was in. That anxiety over, I soon found another: I had essentially agreed to have my first sexual experience, still the most personal act imaginable to me, with a complete stranger. ~ ~ ~ "You should probably start waxing." announced Karen the instant we arrived home. My eyes tried to cross and focus my brow. "Really?" "Yes," Karen laughed. "But not your eyebrows." "Then what?" My head leaned to one side, then that brow rose, taking my eyelids with it. "Oh, you mean..." "Of course!" "But why?" "Have you ever felt a burning desire to lick hair?" I wrinkled my nose. "Okay. I see your point." So to make a long story short, Karen helped me wax. And it hurt, of course. There in the bath, in those moments after we finished, I felt I could ask her just about anything. So I did. "What was your first time like?" Karen leaned her head to one side. "Waxing?" "No," I giggled. "With a boy." "Oh," she said. "Pretty much same as yours will be. It was when I joined the club." My eyes widened. "So you know?" "Know what?" "That, uh, it'll be my first time?" She smiled. "Don't worry about it. Not like it's a badge of shame or anything. I think every college virgin imagines she's the only one." I smiled back. "So what's it like? Sex, I mean. And doing it with a stranger. It just seems so personal. And where's the romance?" Karen giggled. "Kinda bummed it won't be a wedding-night consummation in some French chateau with the love of your life?" "How'd you know?" "I think we all had that fantasy." She paused to look at the ceiling and nod before turning her eyes back to me. "I know it's traumatic, really, I do. But don't get too caught up in thinking you have to be in love to enjoy it. Maybe that helps, but pure, old-fashioned lust doesn't get near the credit it deserves. You'll see." ~ ~ ~ "Who'd you get?" Karen asked the instant I'd closed my cell phone. "Donald," I replied. "Shut up! You lucky bitch!" My eyes wandered to one side and I allowed myself a swallow before admitting the truth. "I'm kinda bad with names. Which one's Donald?" "Tall. Kinda skinny, but has a nice ass. Big round glasses. Mousy brown hair." With a nod, I recalled his face. "So why am I a lucky bitch?" "You can tell when a guy likes something, and he definitely does." "What does he like?" "Us," she said with a smile. "You know that T-shirt of mine that has 'E=mc2' on it?" I nodded. "Yeah." "I bought it just for Donald. He totally thinks Einstein was like god." T.F.W.B.C. "Okay," I said with a sigh. "So besides Donald combs his hair, this makes me lucky how?" Her smiled broadened. "Borrow the shirt. You'll see." In spite of my prodding, she refused to say more. And I refused to borrow her stupid T-shirt. ~ ~ ~ Donald and I settled on the old standby- dinner and a movie, though he suggested that we reverse the order since, as he put it, "Eating first can lead to making an unwanted pit stop during the flick." I lost our coin toss and Donald picked a disaster film, you know the one where pretty much everyone dies except the stars and the dog? If it was just any other movie, it could have been a true disaster, but it was my first and I'll never forget it. Especially when Donald put his arm around me. My eyes clouded at once. How many years had I lain awake at night and wondered if that would ever happen? My thoughts turned to other things that I'd thought about late at night. Having been a virgin this long, well, I wasn't sure I wanted to not be a virgin in just a few hours. I found myself looking more at Donald's lap than the screen. By the time the film was over, my stomach was doing somersaults. "Maybe we could do dinner later?" I suggested on the way to his car. "I hear eating first can lead to unwanted pit stops at the wrong time, you know." "Oh?" Donald's head leaned to one side and he shrugged. "Okay!" His head kept leaning. And descending. And he kissed me. Just like that. I was too stunned to kiss him back, not that it was that kind of kiss anyway, really. But it was still my first, right there in a parking lot. I know it doesn't sound terribly romantic, but it was, being kissed right there where everyone could see. Once we were on the road, I put my cheek against the window and turned my eyes to the darkened sky. "Do you ever look at a star and just stop to think how long that little speck of light took to get here, just for us to see it?" Donald leaned forward and peered upward through the windshield. "What star are you looking at?" "The, uh, bright one." "Oh," he said, looking back to the road. "That's actually not a star. It's a planet, so the light really didn't take all that long..." Karen was right; the young man's passion for things nerdy was genuine. For the remainder of the drive, he told me about the planets and stars and galaxies and time and space and, yeah, he managed to get Einstein in there too. The universe is far from boring, but I was still kinda worried Donald would keep talking about it when we got home. I needn't have fretted. We'd barely closed my apartment door before he wrapped his arms about me. A quintet of fingers crept up my spine to comb my hair. His other hand slid low about my waist, pulling my form to his. Within my hair his fingers coiled, urging my face upward. He kissed me again. A real kiss, with our lips and bodies both rutting against one another. Amid his massaging my scalp and groping my flank and suckling my lips, I felt an unyielding form press against my tummy. My eyes flew wide. There was no doubt what it was I had felt. And what it meant- his passion for things chubby was genuine too! A real man wanted me. Not some sleek caricature of femininity, but flesh and blood me. Donald pulled his mouth from mine and looked down into my eyes. "Did I hurt you?" "No. Why would you think that?" "You gasped." "Did I?" "Yeah." I grinned. "What if I wanted to be hurt?" He smiled back. "Then you're probably in the wrong club." "Oh," I breathed, sliding my hand to his, "I'm definitely in the right club." Without another word, he allowed me to lead him to my bedroom. At the foot of my bed, we shared a third kiss, except this time when our lips locked his hands did not embrace me. Instead, his fingers roamed my form seeking seams and buttons. Thinking I was meant to do the same, I reached for his belt, but had only begun to free it when he peeled my blouse away, taking my arms with it. His mouth left mine. Our eyes met. Beneath his shirt, his chest swelled with a massive breath. With his exhale, his lips returned, but to my neck instead of my mouth. Teeth and tongue joined lips as he kissed, nibbled and licked his way down my form. I closed my eyes when he reached the exposed portion of my bosom. My body shuddered, both from excitement and anxiety. Adding to my disquiet, he continued downward, kneeling and bringing his lips to the supple flesh of my tummy. I tried to withdraw my paunch, just enough to matter, but not so much that he would notice me doing so. His hands found my flank, massaging me while nibbling at my navel. Not seeing any sign of repulsion in his features, I allowed myself the slightest of smiles and began combing his hair with my fingers. "You are so sexy," he whispered a moment before his hands shifted from flesh to fabric. His lips returned to my abdomen while his fingers found the buttons of my jeans. With each kiss upon my tummy, he exposed a little more of me, until I stood before my kneeling beau wearing but bra and thong. These I expected he would remove at once, but instead of fabric, his hands found the cheeks of my ass. Before I could imagine what he had in mind, he thrust his nose into my scantily covered sex. I gasped and recoiled, but he held me firm. The sound of Donald drawing in a breath reached my ears, but his exhalation reached me through another sense. My eyes flew wide and my trembling thighs crept toward the warmth between. For a single heartbeat, I wondered if he did that to all the girls, but then I decided it didn't matter- now he was only doing it to me! Again and again, he took my scent into his lungs and returned it through the thin fabric between us. While his breathing was measured, mine soon became quite the opposite. Irregular spasms jarred my body in ways I did not intend, much less want. Putting both of my palms to his scalp, I attempted to steady myself. His hands found my form too, first my flank, where his fingers caressed my supple flesh. Somewhere while working their way about my hips to my ass, those fingers ceased caressing and started groping, almost kneading my flesh in time with his breathing. Closing my eyes, I savored every second of my first true fondling. At last his fingertips found their way to the top string of my token panties. His nose left my sex. I turned my open eyes downward in time to see him plant a kiss below my navel. With his eyes turned upward and his lips still upon my abdomen, he drew my thong downward, exposing my sex. Another tremble traversed my form, though I was anything but cold. Leaving my undergarment about my ankles, Donald rose, kissing his way back up my tummy to my breasts. His hands followed a parallel route on the opposite side of me until his fingers found the clasp of my bra and his lips suckled the tender exposed portion of my bosom. His fingers worked the hooks and I felt the strap across my back loosen. Pulling wide the separated fabric, he stepped backward, leaving me completely undressed. At once, his eyes roamed my body in much the way his fingers had. My eyes remained locked upon his face, seeking any hint of what he thought or felt. He blinked. His tongue teased lips that neither smiled nor frowned. He exhaled a huge breath and turned his eyes to mine. I waited, expecting at least a token compliment. Instead, his reached for the edge of his T-shirt and pulled the cloth over his head. Before I quite realized what he was doing, his fingers were already pulling free the belt that I had unbuckled. Intent on enjoying the show, I spun and rolled onto my bed, coming to rest on my tummy. That's when I realized what a short show it would be; Donald already had his jeans about his ankles. "Not so fast," I insisted. "Oh," he said with a sheepish grin. "Guess I was a little antsy. Every time with a new girl, it's like I'm a virgin all over again." "Yeah." I giggled. "I know what you mean. Did you ever do a striptease for the other girls?" Donald shook his head. "So," I began with a wink, "you saved your stripping virginity all for me?" "I guess so." He paused to swallow before bringing his fingertips to the elastic of his briefs. Wearing a subtle grin he began to hum, swaying his hips in time with the impromptu melody. I smiled too. "Much better." His smile widened and he spun, wiggling his ass at me while drawing the fabric down his flank. After giving me the amateur striptease rendition of plumber's butt, he twirled again. I inhaled a sharp breath through my still-curved lips as I beheld the apex of his masculinity peeking at me from behind its cloth prison. Swinging his hips in time with his humming, he slid his underwear downward, revealing inch after inch, until he stood before me twirling his briefs about his index finger. But my attention was not on Donald's undergarments. Others might just have seen an erection, but I saw nothing less than proof. It's one thing to see a man hard in a picture, or even a movie, but to see one that's hard for you, well, it's a totally different feeling. Karen was right again; lust didn't get near enough credit. I forced my eyes upward to his face. "Can I touch him?" He giggled through a grin and tossed his underwear to one side. "Sure." Two steps later, there he was, right before my face. A man. I inhaled a deliberate breath, trying to catch his scent without him knowing I was doing so. There was a hint of something familiar, but I couldn't quite place it, and it was hardly unpleasant. I turned my eyes upward and at once locked on his downward gaze. What did he see? A pudgy brunette about to fumble her way through her first sexual experience? Or an alluring vixen about to make his dreams come true? For the first time I dared believe I could be both! My gaze fell and my palm rose. My fingers encircled his member in hesitant motion, as if his flesh might burn mine. He didn't burn me, but there was an unexpected heat to him. I smiled again, knowing the heat, and the hardness, were all for me. I squeezed him. Before my wide eyes, his head swelled, then leaked. I thought he might shoot right then and there, but the bead clung to the apex of his crown. "Looks like he's ready," I said, turning my gaze again upward. "Think so?" "Yes," I agreed with a nod. "Let's see if you are." My eyebrow shot upward. "What?" "Roll over." With a gulp, I relaxed my grip and let him slide from my fingers. I allowed myself a single deep breath before I rolled again, revealing all of myself to him in what I imagined to be the most awkward of poses. I felt like a beached whale and was sure I looked like one too. I looked upward again, intent on seeing his reaction, but he had already reacted, leaping on the bed to kneel next to me. Before I could even think, much less respond, his palms had cupped the sides of my breasts and pressed them against one another. I tensed at once. "Did I hurt you?" he asked. "No," I said, shaking my head. "Just a little surprised." "Good. I love your tits." "Oh," I said, trying to digest what seemed the bluntest complement in the course of human history. "Yeah," he said in a near whisper- the kind you use in church. His fingertips pressed into the supple flesh of my bosom. "I know I'm kind of shallow that way, but I can't help it. Forgive me if I take a moment?" "Uh, sure," I replied, wondering what he meant. For several dozen heartbeats, his eyes raked my breasts. "Your nipples are so brown." Extending a forefinger, he traced a single circle about an already swollen nub before sighing and turning his eyes back to my face. "It's just not fair." Even prone, I shrugged. "What? Brown nipples?" "No," he said, shaking his head. "Not being able to really see you for a while." He looked about my room, then lifted his hand and grasped his glasses by their bridge. Reaching, he placed them on my nightstand, before returning his attention to me. "Can I get yours too?" I shook my head. "I'd rather be able to see." "Yeah," he said with a nod. "I know what you mean. Tried contacts once, but they were even worse." Without waiting for my response, he grabbed my breasts and pressed them together, then began rubbing his face over my flesh, much in the way a cat rubs about one's ankles. I half expected he might even purr. I've heard felines do that to claim territory and wondered if Donald might be doing something similar. In the back of my mind, a small part of me felt like I should resent being claimed thus, but it was a very small part- the rest of me thought it was terribly sexy. With his eyes closed, he traced a series of ever-tightening circles across my bosom until his nose ran circles about one of my areolae. He paused to blow a jet a cool air across my nipple before slapping it once with his tongue. I pushed my chest upward, an invitation he accepted at once. The feel of lips upon my hardened nub sent a shiver from my shoulders to my clenching loins. I closed my eyes and savored the sensations of his suckling. Soon my fingers found their way to his scalp, combing his locks while pulling him to me, not that he could be any closer. His fingers moved too, running fully splayed along my sides as if he meant to touch all of me with a single hand. Back and forth he went from one breast to another, first licking, then suckling, then nibbling, before finally drawing in nipple, areola, and as much of my flesh as could fit between his lips. Inside the warmth of his mouth, he ran his tongue over me. A warmth of my own bounced upward and, finding one of his thighs, began to return his caress in time with the motion of his tongue. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I haven't forgotten there's more of you," My eyes flew wide and for a moment I thought to use his hair to rein his mouth back to my bosom, but then those two splayed hands pinned my hips and he planted a kiss right over my heart. Instead of pulling, I unwrapped my fingers and urged him the other direction. Not that he needed any direction. Sliding his body down mine, he planted a series of kisses down the center of my tummy until he reached my navel. This he teased with the tip of his nose before slipping off of my bed. My trembling fingers left his hair and coiled instead in my sheets. His lips found my thighs, kissing first one, then the other, in a hopscotch pattern on the way to where I really wanted him. By the time I felt his breath upon me, my body was like a coiled spring. He blew. I whimpered. And then he slapped me with his tongue. My hips bounded upward, propelling my sex to his mouth. His tongue borrowed, laving all about my entry. Warm on warm. Wet on wet. Soft on soft. The shiver that had gone from my shoulders to my hips found its way back again. Closing my eyes, I attempted to savor the unfamiliar sensations. I felt another warm wetness, this time sliding down the sides of my face, and I realized I had shed a pair of tears. "Did I hurt you?" I snapped my eyes open and my head up. The instant our gazes met, I shook my head. "No." "You whimpered." "I did?" "It's okay to let me know what you like." My eyelids flapped while I tried to avoid admitting I did not yet know what I liked a man to do. "I'm not sure," I finally admitted. "It was like too much and not enough at the same time." He giggled through a grin. "Okay. Let's try this. Grab my wrists when I push." My lips parted, but "Push what?" never left my tongue. Donald shoved his forearms along the back of my thighs until they lodged behind my knee. Continuing his thrust, he compelled my legs upward, exposing me in ways that brought back memories of trips to my gynecologist. So not sexy. "Grab," Donald prompted, snapping me from my trance. I wrapped my fingers about his wrists. With his position secure he turned his gaze downward and just stared. And stared. And stared. Silence and insecurity got the better of me. "Is my pussy ugly?" His head fell to one side. "Why would you think that?" "Just the way you were staring." He smiled. "No part of you is ugly." He leaned and kissed just below my navel. "None of you," he said, kissing a little lower. "Not one inch." His lips found my bare mons. "Nary a molecule." That last one was such a nerdy compliment, I just knew it had to be sincere, but I giggled anyway. Whether he heard or not, I'll never know, but either way he found a way to end my brief amusement. His mouth returned to me, but it was his tongue rather than the lips I had expected. And it wasn't a lick, but something akin to an invasion. Warm in warm. Wet in wet. Soft in soft. My hips tried to bounce upward, but our position didn't allow them to do so. Mashing his face against my sex, Donald burrowed with his tongue, rolling it about my entry. Karen was so right, you could tell he liked us. Loved us? I confess, at that moment, I didn't much care. With every twirl of his tongue he took me one step closer to that blessed hedonistic zone. A budding orgasm wasn't anything new for me, I'd done myself countless times. I knew what I needed and, in his position, I knew he couldn't do it. "I need to hold my own legs," I announced. Donald's head popped up between my thighs. "Really?" "Yes, you need at least one free hand." I released his wrists and moved my fingers to the outer edge of my knees. "Okay," he said, withdrawing his forearms. "Now what?" "Finger inside and up, tongue outside and up." I thought he might need a little additional instruction, but I was wrong. His finger found my G-spot at once and a heartbeat later he slapped my clitoris with his tongue, sending a little tremor through my loins. Mashing his splayed appendage against my tender button, he wiggled his face back and forth. Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back. I knew well the waypoints on my orgasmic journey. Beneath his laboring tongue a tickling sensation developed that became an itching, one he scratched well. The itching turned into a smoldering warmth that spread beyond my sex. My breathing became sharper, more pronounced, matching the rhythm of my hips and of his tongue. Then he did it, the same thing he had done with my nipple- he drew all of me that he could into his mouth and licked while he suckled. Inside, his finger turned circles in time with his tongue and I soon reached that moment when my bladder felt as if it would explode. And that's when my hedonistic zone collapsed. Within my mind the reality of what was about to happen collided with the fact that I wasn't in the sanctuary of the bath. But it was too late. My butt cheeks tightened. My fingers gnarled themselves into my sheets. My toes curled too. My spine followed, arching my back from the bed. My entire form trembled twice before a third seizure gripped me. That delicate, yet unmistakable hiss reached my ears and I felt the warm wetness about my loins. Donald withdrew and issued a pair of coughs. I popped my head upward to see a glistening face turned my way. "Are you okay?" He nodded. "Yeah, I just wasn't expecting, well...." He paused and turned his attention downward. "You made quite a mess. Should I get a towel or something?" "Gawd no!" I breathed. "Let's make a bigger mess." He smiled and blew away the droplet that had collected at the tip of his nose. "Yes. Let's." Accepting the sheets were already soaked, I let Donald take me again to that zone. I'd never been there with anyone else, of course. And I was right. Sharing it with someone else was ever so personal. And ever so special. Though we emitted many sounds over the next dozen or so minutes, many of them vocal, neither of us said another word until I at last breathed, "That's enough." I lifted my head and looked down my length to see Donald peering back. T.F.W.B.C. "Are you sure?" I nodded. "Very." "Okay." He turned and reached for his glasses. Yeah. His glasses. First thing. To see me! At that moment, I swear I wanted to have ten of his children. With his eyewear in place, he climbed onto my bed, and then on top of me, straddling my tummy. In his position, his masculinity was completely exposed and I couldn't help but notice he was still pointed skyward, as hard if not harder than when I had first laid eyes on him. "You are so hot," he said. I smiled and shifted my gaze upward to meet his. "I know. But tell me again." "You are so hot that I just have to fuck your tits." My eyebrow bounced upward and my lips formed a purse. That had not been one of the penetration possibilities I had considered. "Oh," I said with a swallow. "That hot?" He nodded. "The hottest." "Okay. What do we do?" "It's best if you hold them together. Sometimes I can get a little rough when excited, you know?" Cupping each of my breasts with my palms, I pressed them upward before turning my attention the same direction. "Now what?" He smiled. "Just keep 'em together." Inching forward, he steered his erection downward and rubbed himself into the cavity formed by my compressed bosom. So soft his crown felt, totally the opposite of how hard he looked. His weight shifted the slightest amount and he pushed into me, then withdrew again, back and forth maybe an inch or two at a time until I felt the slickness against my flesh. Against my tummy, I felt the cheeks of his ass flex and he emitted something akin to a growl. Donald fell forward, planting a hand on each side of my head. His hips began to move in earnest, propelling his manhood between my breasts. I can't say the sensation itself was anything special, but watching his reaction sure was. He groaned. He bared his teeth. He wrinkled his nose. His lips alternated between purses, grimaces, and smiles. His breathing became ragged, almost labored. Each time he pushed more of himself into my bosom, his body shuddered. His complexion grew flushed. And he never stopped looking at me. It wasn't long before his seepage was such that he could push his manhood all the way through my breasts, literally fucking them, just like he had said. My attention began to shift back and forth, from his face to the glistening, mushroom-like apex of his manhood. Soon the latter, popping in and out of its mammary cocoon, garnered the majority of my attention. Recalling the manner in which Donald had slapped my nipples and clit with his tongue, I took a swipe with my own, but my timing left much to be desired. I withdrew my appendage and readied myself to try again, but my preparation was for naught. On his next foray, he stopped at the extent of his thrust, leaving a stationary target within easy reach. I turned my attention upward to find Donald's eyes locked on my face. At the same moment, we both smiled. With our gazes locked I shot my tongue out gave him the briefest of licks. He shuddered at once, then leaned and pushed himself closer. I leaned also and sent my tongue to the underside of his helmet. Emitting a half-gasp, half-whimper, he pushed again, easing his manhood along my tongue, allowing my lips to close about him. In much the same manner he had earlier laved me, I suckled while running my tongue over his velvety surface and textured ridges. So supple was he at the tip and especially underneath, yet so defined and firm along his engorged perimeter. "Oh," he moaned. "That's good." Selfishly savoring his almost helpless tone, I continued licking. Soon a decadent mixture of viscous salinity joined his softness on my tongue. "Oh, Gawd," he gasped between breaths. "You need to, oh, you need to..." He issued a sharp jerk then pulled away. "It's just not fair!" "What?" I asked, imagining I'd done something wrong. "The sexier the girl, the shorter I last." A smile spread across my face. "Sorry about that." Donald returned my smile and shook his head. "You're awful. In a good way." He put his palms on the backs of my hands, urging my bosom even tighter about his still-ensconced cock. With his eyes again locked on mine, he began fucking my breasts again. Both his rhythm and breathing soon became erratic. He was right about being a little rough when excited, but with my hands as a shield, his pressure was anything but painful. Even had there been a little discomfort, I could easily have borne it, because he didn't last long. With no warning his palms left mine. He rose on his knees. I felt a warmth land upon my bosom and turned my attention downward just in time to see an ivory geyser leap from him onto me. Again and again he shot his little white streams, trying to aim from one breast to the other. It all happened so fast that I didn't appreciate it much at the time, but I've come to understand since just how special it is that I got to see my first lover's orgasm in the most up close and personal way. When he was done, my bosom looked like someone had gone wild with a cake decorator and watery frosting. Turning my eyes upward again, I found Donald looking down, his chest heaving in and out with each labored breath. Unsure what to do next, I just watched until he had recovered enough to speak. Except he didn't say a word. Settling back, he moved his palms from my hands to my breasts, rubbing my flesh as if his semen was some kind of skin lotion. At once, I decided to join him and four palms roamed the surface of my bosom until his emission had been reduced to a satiny residue. A subtle scent wafted its way to my nostrils and I brought my still-moist hands to my face. Cupped my nose, I inhaled a deep breath. His aroma was so unique, it's hard to describe, sublime, yet subtle- kind of like the fragrance of the ocean. I smiled and looked up. "What an interesting smell." He smiled back. "You like it?" "Yeah," I said with a nod. Fearing I might be giving too much away, I added a quick, "Always have." The wickedest smile graced his features. "What about how it tastes?" My eyes widened and I tried to remember. "That's, uh, okay too." I felt him squirm on my tummy. "Maybe we can try that next time?" My eyes fell to his shiny, softening manhood. While I gazed, he twitched twice, as if beckoning me. Suddenly Friday seemed a long way off. I turned my eyes back to Donald's. "Any reason next time can't be now?" THE END T.F.W.B.C. Copyright 2009 by Penelope Street Posted with permission at Literotica.com All other rights reserved. Special thanks to Jess and Rob for their editing expertise. This is a work of fiction. To the best of the author's knowledge, none of the events depicted ever occurred. All of the persons portrayed are fictional characters. Their views, opinions, and experiences are invented as well and are not meant to promote anyone's personal beliefs or agenda.