1 comments/ 8779 views/ 0 favorites Gabe By: illusory_transitory Here I was again. Same situation, same problem. Exacerbated by the fact that this time, the difference was around twelve years instead of three. It wasn't that I couldn't be trusted. The problem, at least for me, is that I can. Let me explain. I hadn't had a boyfriend for a while. The last boyfriend I had was actually quite a bit older than me. He'd said he was forty, when he asked me out. Turned out he was 48. Not a bad age, exactly, except that I'm 30. A "young" 30, although I wince at the term. And to put it mildly, he couldn't keep up with me, in bed or out of it. The memory that springs to mind is the two of us climbing a set of stairs outside a mall, with me trying (a bit impatiently) to subtly slow down and him puffing along behind me. He kept asking me to marry him, actually. The funny thing is that despite his age, he really wasn't ready. That much was obvious. I'll leave out the gruesome details of our sex life, because basically they consist of him trying to convince me that I really wanted to sleep with him, which I didn't, and, the two times I reluctantly went along with his clumsy seductions, that I had enjoyed it. Mhm. No, I don't think so. So, to put it in simple terms, I don't consider myself particularly age-ist. I just want someone who isn't going to slow me down. And I don't want to think about retirement plans! I know I'm not eighteen, but I do feel like I'm just getting started on the rest of my life. Which means that if a guy is looking for a trophy wife to settle down with on a farm in the back of nowhere, he's got the wrong girl. Woman. Well, whatever. On with our tale. I'm relatively new in town. I've been living in this city for just over two years. The first year I was here, I was too caught up in recovering from the most major and most disastrous relationship of my life. Believe me when I say that I shocked myself by having absolutely no interest in men at all for quite some time. I'm not the type to sit home with my multiple cats and multiple cheesy movies every night. Well, I don't even like cats, I admit it. I'm more of a dog person, although I have been known to pet a kitty now and again. Point being, I haven't been my usual social self until recently. Now I'm getting back to normal, or as close to it as I ever do get. Rachel is one of the few people I consider a friend here. Which means seducing her baby brother is probably not a really good idea. I'm trying to avoid it, but he keeps sort of popping up, all hopeful puppy eyes and gangly legs. I can tell by the way he looks at me when he thinks I'm not paying attention that he has a little crush. It's sweet. Well, sweet and dangerous. He's at a hard age. I don't want to hurt him. It's nice to have someone a little bit in lust with you, but it's kind of tough when it'd be really wrong to encourage him. I'll be honest. I'm lonely, he's awfully cute, and I'm tempted. But I won't do anything stupid. I'd like to think I'm not that careless of a person. I was thinking, tonight, when he messaged me on Facebook, that I shouldn't even talk to him. But the evil interweb intervened, as it does. Someone sent me another tacky app, "Sexy Date" I think it was. Well, I know the girl who sent it, and she probably just thought it was funny. But I vaguely skimmed the friends that appeared on the list, wishing one of them really was a sexable date. My wifi crashed just then. So, bearing in mind the scientific repercussions of Murphy's Law, of course the app sent messages to all my friends because of the page error. Oops. He was practically burbling with excitement. "So, I'm your top Sexy Date, huh?" Uh oh. Screwed by proxy, in this case, via bad bandwidth. "Oh um well... sorry! Actually it was a page error. I wouldn't have sent that to you! You're practically jailbait, ya know!" Quickly, I put up a status message informing all and sundry that any "Sexy Date" messages they received from me were due to an error. "Damn," he typed back. "People keep telling me that!" I thought back to his parents' barbeque on Independence Day. How he'd half-heartedly tried to convince me he was twenty-two. How, for a second, I'd believed him, because with his height and shoulders, he easily could be. But then I looked at his face and saw that slight babyishness around the chin, and decidedly hollered back, "You are not!" It was all very relaxed and casual. At some point we all wound up singing old Simon and Garfunkel songs. I think I was the only one who knew most of the words. I love singing, and I'm not terrible at it. I was belting out lyrics with the group, and he was sort of staring without staring, if you know what I mean. Hey, not my fault I have a chest. I didn't invent it. I don't flaunt it... much. He ducked inside halfway through, and I felt unreasonably guilty. Le sigh. Last time I had a little mutual crush on my best friend's little brother, back in my hometown, he and I were both in our twenties. Well, he still is. I somehow thought it was important to be honest and tell my friend. She was horrified. "He's my baby BROTHER!" she hissed. "Yeah," I pointed out. "But he is twenty-one, not a child." My twenty-fifth birthday would be just before his twenty-second. It didn't seem to make much of a difference to her. I never did anything about that one, either. I remember hanging around their house all summer that year, and my friend's brother making a point of casually appearing in a tight undershirt whenever I showed up. Oh, it was kind of nice. I knew my friend, and her family, which I consider to by my extended family, were too important to me for me to mess up that relationship for a little fling with Studly Jr. over there. Her mom actually encouraged us to date, dropping heavy hints when she saw us together. But once I saw past the Ben Affleck looks (I swear, not exaggerating: probably better-looking) to his less-than-enormous brain, my crush was over. When it comes to gray matter, size does. He's married now, to a very nice if not very bright girl. He has a little pot belly. And he still casts lingering looks in my direction if I'm around, although he'd never do anything about it now. I'm really glad I never went further than some flirtation with that. His laugh is really kind of dopey. I know that sounds mean, and I'm not trying to be. Just saying that because it was the one thing that first clued me into his non-genius-type status. Augh. I'm not as snotty as that makes me sound. I'm happy for him. He's got kids and all. But back to Rachel's brother, whose name I won't mention to protect the semi-innocent. No one's that angelic in their teens! We can call him Gabe. I saw him on the bus the other day. Trust me to find a way of making catching a bus look crazed. It was late, and it was the last bus. I was a bit distracted, thinking about the movie I had just seen, and the bus nearly passed without stopping. I waved my hands and ran after it, and it skidded to a stop a bit farther down. Nice when the bus driver recognizes you. He's too grumpy to admit it, but he does, and it was really nice of him to stop. I flung myself aboard, grabbing the waistband of my cute new skirt. Damn thing was far too stretchy and almost stretched itself into a pile of fabric on the floor. "Hey, young lady." I looked around in bewilderment, catching my breath. "Oh, hi." "What are you doing out so late?" His tone was mock-stern. "Oh, uh... just coming back from seeing a movie with a friend." I could see the wheels a-turning. Date, he was thinking. Well, no. Actually, it had been an evening trying to cheer up my stressed-out friend Lara. I had treated her to dinner and a movie, and she is sort of ex-gay, except on alternate Wednesdays, but we really are just friends. So no, not a date. I'm kidding about the Wednesdays. She does get "that look" in her eyes every so often when I'm wearing something sexy, but she's trying out straight as a lifestyle, and I'm very supportive of that. I have to admit I was a little bit pleased to see him. There's always a shortage of available, good-looking guys. I have to keep reminding myself that he's actually NOT available. Not unless I were his age. Ha! I wouldn't go back to being a teenager for anything. Besides, most guys didn't look twice at me when I was that age. Goofy, frizzy, frumpy and braces, plus some chub. Ouch. Nope, wouldn't switch. What is it with this "older woman" thing? Shouldn't guys his age be attracted to the dazzling young twits flitting by? Things! I meant young things. They're rather sweet, really. I just don't have the patience for them anymore. I don't think I'd have the patience for myself, either, if my younger self somehow appeared on this city bus and sat down next to me. It's easier dealing with people my own age, or older. Which should mean that I'm not as pleased to see him as I actually am. Is it really so wrong that I'm thinking unprintable thoughts about my friend's little brother? Yes! YES it is. I shake an imaginary finger at myself, in my head. Bad girl! Very bad. Gabe got up and sort of hovered, shifting with the bus's motion. I patted the seat next to me, trying very hard to be virtuous and succeeding in lying only to myself. "Want to sit?" I wasn't going to do anything. Really. Not on a city bus, anyway. He looked at the scruffy bus seat regretfully. "Nope. Gotta get off next stop." I smiled. "See ya around." Gaah. Damn. I smiled anyway, thinking things that should get me at least a slap on the wrist, all the way home. Good thing my trusty plastic pal was ready and waiting, as it always is. It's hard doing the right thing. I hope he stays away from me. He should be falling in love for the first time, not being enthusiastically corrupted. Double damn. I swear I'm trying. But couldn't hurt him since he doesn't know... that I'm seeing his face, among other things, at the most inappropriate moments. Good luck, Gabe. Find yourself a girlfriend at your high school, or in your theater group. Someone who has the right to play all the naughty games she wants with you. I'm taking my piece off the board. Gabe and Nat Nathalie--called Nat by her friends--was normally a cheerful, happy-go-lucky kind of girl. One night, however, she just sat on her bed, unable to sleep. Shaking, she couldn't stop thinking about anything or anyone else but her father, Gabriel--or Gabe, as he was usually called. She wore nothing other than a pink bra and panties--ones with a pretty, elaborate lace design; actually, it was her habit to lounge around the house in various forms of undress, often completely naked. And here was the problem: nude in her bedroom earlier that day, she'd noticed her dad out in the hall, watching her from behind--indeed, ogling her behind--when she'd left her bedroom door several inches ajar. When she quickly turned around, he guiltily ran off. More shocking than that, on two occasions the week before, she'd worn nothing but a bra and thong--the first time, dark red; the second, black. Both times, she'd briefly sat on his lap on the sofa in the living room as he was watching TV; and both times, he had a pointy erection! Embarrassed, he quickly asked her to get off his lap and put some clothes on; but it was too late--she knew how he felt about her. On some level, she could understand his desires: she was a pretty 22-year-old brunette with piercing black eyes and a petite, tanned, deliciously curvy body. All the boys in her classes at Hamilton Ontario's McMaster University wanted to get their hands on her. Indeed, when she'd sat on Gabe's lap those two times, her soft, smooth buttocks must have commanded his cock to stand at attention. Still, he was her father, and in him she saw a melancholy, but sweet, ever so gentle man. She'd never seen him show any kind of passion before, including when her bitchy mother was still alive. He seemed the last man to show any kind of lechery. It was amazing that he'd ever gotten Nat's mother pregnant with her. Because of his seeming celibacy, she often went around the house undressed in front of him: she loved and trusted him completely. Yet here she was now, confronted with his having incestuous feelings for her; she could never have imagined it! More unsettling for her than even those worries was the fact that a part of her, maybe all of her, actually liked how he wanted her! She'd dated lots of men over the years, sleeping with at least half of them and experimenting with many different ways to give and get pleasure. Indeed, she was very open-minded about sex, having tried all kinds of different positions, taking pride in her skill at fellatio, receptive to anal sex; she'd even given men a golden shower or two. She slept with a woman once, and enjoyed receiving, though not giving, cunnilingus. And though the sex with the men was usually fun, all of them ultimately disappointed her: she'd never even had a steady boyfriend once in her life. She'd never fallen in love. Gabe's wife died almost two years to the day before this sleepless night of Nat's. Though her mom was generally a domineering, nasty woman to her and Gabe, he was so devastated with her dying (her bitchiness consisted in making him emotionally dependent on her) that he withdrew completely from any form of social contact, never seeking a new woman. So Nat needed a man, and Gabe needed a woman. Her half-naked body was driving him wild, and his sweetness, his kindness, and his blond-haired, blue-eyed, mature good looks--at the age of 49--made him seem the perfect mate for her...except that he was her dad. But did that really matter? The next morning, a drowsy Nat drove to McMaster U with a large Starbucks coffee. With barely any energy to move, she managed to get to her 8:30 AM philosophy class on time, practically dropping her ass on her chair. She kept sipping her coffee, thinking about her...problem...with her dad as everyone waited for the professor to enter the room. He arrived about five minutes later and began his lecture. He was discussing religion and sexuality, and the philosophy of sex. When he started advocating essentially any kind of consensual sex between human adults, even incest, practically everyone in class was politely trying to hide winces of disgust. Nat, however, found her sleepiness instantly vanishing; her head bounced up, and her eyes almost popped out of her head. He even went so far as to say that, sometimes, sexual perversity leads to great spiritual insights. He quoted a passage from Nietzsche's 'Birth of Tragedy'. "Wisdom," he quoted, "and particularly Dionysian wisdom, is an unnatural abomination." The other students continued the difficult task of trying to hide their distaste at the prof's defence of consensual incest, but Nat was fascinated. "Oedipus solved the riddle of the Sphinx, a monster, part woman, part lion with wings," he went on. "An unnatural abomination herself. Her riddle is actually ridiculously easy to solve--man is the animal that crawls on four legs in the morning of his life, his infancy; he walks on two legs during his noontime maturity; and he hobbles with a third leg, a cane, during the evening of his old age. But the notion of the riddle's being hard to solve isn't meant to be taken literally; for in the ancient world of the myth's creation, people expressed themselves in metaphor and allegory. The riddle, easy as it may be to solve actually, symbolizes the notion of deep, unsolvable mysteries; and Oedipus knows those mysteries. He also kills his father, marries his mother and gets her pregnant, having three children/siblings by her. Extreme mystical insight dissolves into its opposite, extreme abomination. Now I say to you, it can go the other way around, too." Nat, one who regularly meditated, had always wanted to be spiritual, but she hated religious restrictions on sexuality. When having sex with her many men over the years, she'd tried turning the love-making into a kind of meditation, a yogic form of sex. The men were never willing to do that with her, though, hence her being disappointed with them. Now Nat wondered: was this prof showing her something she'd always wanted to find, a way to be sexual and spiritual at the same time, a kind of 'sacred sinning'? She went home that evening and thought about it. In white lace underwear that night and sitting on her bed in the lotus posture, she meditated on how Eastern mysticism often dealt with the reconciling of opposites: yin and yang, self and other, body and spirit, et cetera. Could she attain nirvana through perversion, and in the process, help her moping father out of his sorrow and loneliness by having her as a lover? She was convinced that she could. With that, her normal joie de vivre was restored, and having finished a half-hour meditation, she left her room and went downstairs after hearing her snoring dad in his bedroom. She went into the living room on the way to the kitchen for a glass of water. As she passed by their desktop computer, she accidentally tapped the mouse with her swaying hand. The monitor lit up: he'd forgotten to turn the computer off before going to bed. She noticed a large number of opened windows, all JPEG photos, along the bottom of the screen. She clicked on one of them--it was a pornographic picture of a young woman in pigtails, naked, and bent over with her ass pointed at the camera, her asshole and pussy gloriously displayed. Hey, Nat thought, Dad's into porn. Not the saint he seems to be. Now I can find out what he's into sexually, and use it to help me seduce him. She got a notepad and a pencil from her bedroom, and began taking notes as she went through all the other pictures. She quickly noticed a group of consistently recurring sexual interests. After watching POV videos of women doing oral on men and receiving facials, she said, "Oh, Dad, wait till you find out what your daughter can do with her mouth." Then she watched a POV video of a woman receiving anal. "I can do that," she whispered. "If he wants to put it in my stink-hole, no problem." There were also pictures and video of public nudity and of girls caught on the toilet. "Oh, come on, show me something difficult." After seeing lots of pictures of women showing off their assholes as often as--if not more often than--their pussies, she said, "Wow, he's really into anal: better buy lots of lube." Another thing she noticed: almost all the women in the pictures and video had their hair in pigtails, and posed or behaved in the attitude of little girls. As Nat saw more and more of these 'little girl' women, she began to get worried. Please, Dad, she thought, Don't be a sicko pedophile. She was relieved to learn, however, that all the models in the pics and video were at least 18 years old. "Whew," she sighed. She left the computer, carefully replacing the pics as Gabe had left them so as not to make him suspect she'd seen them. Then she took her notepad up with her, back into her bedroom, reviewed her notes, and began planning her seduction of her father. About ten minutes later, she went to bed. The next morning, she woke up and meditated on her bed, remembering that Yogic sex is best when one has attained a high level of spirituality. After meditating for a half hour, she took off her underwear, left her bedroom door ajar, turned the light on, and stood naked by her dresser with her back to the door. As she waited for him to come out of his bedroom (she could hear him moving around in there), she put her hair in pigtails. Gabe, fully dressed for work, came out into the hall, walked by her door, and stopped to look at her. Seeing him in her dresser mirror's reflection, but pretending not to know he was watching, she spread her legs as wide as she could get them, and bent over so her asshole and pussy were showing. She stayed in that position, never letting on that she knew he was watching, for a minute or so, so he could get a good look. His eyes were bugging out of his head in amazement at what he saw: delectable pink labia liquorice under her puckered, caramel anus lips. My sperm produced this? he thought. Figuring he'd had long enough of a look, she straightened up and quickly turned around. She stopped him from his sheepish looking away and leaving, saying in a girlie voice, "Oh, hi Daddy," as if she had no clue he'd been watching her. He turned back around, shyly avoiding looking at her body, and with an embarrassed frown, said, "G-good morning, Nathalie." Not bothering to put any clothes on, she skipped to the door without any inhibitions, and said, "I'll make us some breakfast, Daddy." She hugged him, pretending not to notice his erection, then went down the stairs cheerfully, like a little girl. "Daddy?" he said in surprise. She hasn't called me 'Daddy' since she was eight, he thought, then followed her into the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, trying to resist the temptation of looking at her body, while she prepared scrambled eggs and toast for them. At one point, she deliberately dropped an egg on the floor, then spread her legs and bent over to clean it up. Her exposed asshole and pussy were inches from his face. "Jesus!" Gabe said after seeing her display for a second and turning away in embarrassment. "Don't worry, Daddy," she said, still in the voice of a little girl, pretending she innocently had no idea how she was turning him on. "I'll clean it up." Assured she wouldn't look back at him, he guiltily turned back and enjoyed looking hat her glorious holes. Oh, what sweet candy! But it wasn't his to have. Or was it? ************** Nat didn't want to rush into her seduction, or give Gabe too many concentrated doses of her sexiness, for fear that he, in his sexual uptightness, would angrily resist and demand she always dress decently. Instead, she'd go totally nude on some days, in her bra and panties on others, or in a T-shirt and panties. This last way was how she was dressed one day when she went to the toilet to pee, leaving the bathroom door wide open. Seeing the toilet paper all used up and knowing that the other rolls were up in a cupboard above the medicine cabinet, she held in her pee for the moment as she sat on the toilet, with her pink panties pulled down to her ankles. "Daddy?" she called out to him. "Can you come over here, please?" "Sure, sweetie," he said, hurrying over from the kitchen. When he got to the doorway, he blushed to see her, with her legs wide open and the pee beginning to pour out. She, however, was always smiling, not bothering to cover her wispy brown pubic hair with her hands. "W-what do you need?" "I'm out of toilet paper," she said, grinning up at him as the golden piss continued spraying out in a line from her clearly visible urethra into the toilet bowl water. "Can you get me some from the cupboard?" "OK," he said nervously after taking furtive peeks at her peeing. She just looked up at him with the trusting innocence of a child. He clumsily got his hands on a new roll of toilet paper and, almost dropping on the floor between her legs from fumbling it, gave it to her. "H-here you are." "Thanks," she said with an ear-to-ear grin. She squirted out her last little bits of piss, giggling and squealing with each squirt, then said, "OK, I'm finished taking my pee-pee." She giggled again, then pulled off some toilet paper and wiped herself. Pee-pee? he thought. Why is she always talking like a child? Suddenly he remembered that he'd been staring at her; he quickly looked away in embarrassment. She got up and, after giving him a chance to indulge his fetish of seeing her pee in the toilet bowl, flushed the toilet. "Now I'm all stinky," she said in her still childlike voice; instead of pulling up her panties, she pulled her feet out of the leg holes and pulled off her tight-fitting, light green T-shirt with a carefree wiggle of her tits. Without a bra, she was now naked. "Time to get in the shower and clean my pussy." "Please, Nathalie," he said, still taking sneak peeks at her small but firm, perky breasts and well-trimmed tuft of pubic hair. "Don't talk about your body so lewdly." Ignoring his words as she stepped into the shower stall, she spread her buttocks so he could see her bronze anus; then she said, "I'm gonna clean my asshole, too." She closed the shower door and turned on the water. He left the bathroom, twitching with a mixture of temptation, shame, and desire. Why is she acting like that? he wondered. His hand covered the bulging erection in his pants as he walked away. ************** A week later, she was at it again. Prancing around the house completely nude one evening, she was sucking on a (deliberately chosen) peach-coloured popsicle and showing off her newly epilated pubic area. Her hair was in pigtails as usual, and like a child she skipped into the living room while Gabe was trying to watch the news. In her other hand, she held a small tube of honey. When she got in front of him, she deliberately dropped the tube between his open legs. "Oops," she said in a high-pitched, girlie voice, then giggled. She got down on her knees before him to pick up the tube, all the while still sucking on the popsicle, sliding her wet lips along it as it went in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him as her lips slid up and down the skin-coloured popsicle, which she held level with his crotch, pointing up. Instead of moving the popsicle back and forth, she held it still now, and moved her head up and down, as if she were blowing him. She dawdled at picking up the tube of honey, of course. Even more embarrassed than usual, but equally aroused, Gabe hoped Nat wouldn't see the bulge in his pants. "Honey, what are you doing?" he said in feigned anger to hide his nervousness. "What i-is this nonsense you're up to? I'm t-trying to watch the news." As he was saying this, she unscrewed the cap from the tube, which she hid under the popsicle, now taken out of her mouth. "Sorry, Daddy," she said with wide eyes that always looked up at him. She licked the tip of the popsicle a few times, then 'accidentally' squeezed the hidden uncapped tube, the hole of which, like the popsicle, was pointed at her face. Honey spewed on her nose, left eye, and lips. She giggled in a high pitch and licked the dripping honey off her mouth, stretching her tongue sensually as far as it would reach, to lick off as much honey as possible. Shaking, Gabe got up and hurried over to the bathroom, locking the door. Nat went over to eavesdrop. His grunting, moaning, and twitching noises confirmed what she suspected: he was masturbating. ************* A few days later, Nat was meditating nude on her bed, contemplating the oneness and wholeness of the universe, trying to imagine every pair of opposites united, as a way of taking in the divine All. She imagined Truth as everything from the most exalted to the most vulgar, thinking of Love as the acceptance of everything, even the most despised of things, like incest. Contemplations of this sort, done for a half hour every day, helped her overcome the feelings of shame that inevitably came with trying to seduce her father. When she was finished, she went downstairs, still naked, and walked into the living room where Gabe was watching TV. "Hi Daddy," she said, then sat on his lap, which quickly got pointy. "Oh, sweetie, n-not again," he said tensely, fidgeting with nervousness. "You're too old to be sitting on my l-lap." Gently sliding her soft, smooth buttocks against his erection, moving slowly in clockwise circles, she looked back at him with her wide-eyed ingenue face and asked, "Don't you like it?" "Y-no! I mean," he stammered, breathing heavily. "Please, Nathalie: don't s-sit on me." "Why can't I sit on your lap if I want to?" she asked with a sexy pout, affecting a spoiled child. "I wanna cuddle." "W-well, m-maybe if you h-had some clothes on," he groaned, guiltily enjoying her continual grinding. "What does that matter, Daddy? You've seen all my skin before; you used to bathe me when I was a little girl." She got up, turned around, and sat on his lap again, but facing him. "You know every inch of me." He averted his eyes, saying, "Yeah, but y-you've grown...in more w-ways than in height." "Why are you looking away, Daddy? Am I ugly or something?" "Of course not: the e-exact opposite." "Well, you can look at me if you want. I trust you." "But I-I don't think I t-trust myself." "You'd never hurt me: you're so sweet," she said, then leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. Though turned on, he twitched in fear. "Why are you so scared?" "W-why are you doing this?" "To show you how much I love you," she said, then wrapped her arms tightly around his torso. She continued grinding on his cock; her pussy was dripping wet. No longer able to control himself, he pressed his lips aggressively against hers, then unzipped his pants and whipped it out. Sighing and moaning in expectation, she sat back and widened her legs for him. He poked the tip of his cock against her vaginal opening while running his hands agains her smooth, tawny skin; then he looked up in her eyes as he slid it in an inch, and remembered who she was. He pushed her off him and shrank back in terror, straining to put his erection back in his pants. Her ass hit the floor with a thud, and she looked up at her now sobbing father. "Daddy!" she whined, still doing her spoiled little girl routine. "Why'd you stop?" She pouted. "Oh, baby! I'm so sorry!" he bawled. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I don't know what's wrong with me. What have I done? I tried to rape my daughter." "Oh, Daddy," she said soothingly, getting up. "No, you didn't. I made you want to." She sat on his lap and stroked his hair, admiring the silver streaks of grey that were mixed in with the blond. "You made me? That's every rapist's excuse." "This wasn't rape. I wanted it." "But...why would you want it with me?" Still crying, he looked wide-eyed at her, his face soaked with tears. Gabe and Nat "Because I love you." She pecked him on the lips again. "But, daughters aren't supposed to love their dads that way, nor should fathers lust after their daughters." He wiped the tears from his eyes. "Says who?" "Says society, and for good reason. Says the church. Says God, says everybody." "Daddy, since when do we go to church? Since when do we believe in God?" "I thought you did, with all that meditating you do." "I don't believe in a God separate from me, but one in me and in everything. Brahman: my soul is at one with it, as is yours. You just don't know it." "Nat, I'm sure even Hindus abominate incest." "I don't care what any religious system says about my love for you." She pecked him on the cheek, and licked his tear off her lips. "I'm following my own, personal spiritual path, and it's to help you heal. I want to end your pain." She put her arms around him, and started grinding on his erection again. "What would...your mother say?" "Who cares? Was she...ever kind to you?" "Well..." "Well, no. She controlled you...made you miserable...I won't." She began stroking the bulge in his pants. "Society will...never accept...us as lovers," he moaned. "Society doesn't...have to know," she said in sighs. "The ancient Egyptians accepted incest." She unzipped his pants. "The Egypt of...the Pharaohs." She put her hand inside and grabbed his cock. "The Egyptian goddess of the sky, and the god of the earth, were brother and sister...and they were lovers." She got up, led him off his chair and into the middle of the living room. She gently pushed him, telling him to lie on his back on the floor. She got on top of him, pulled out his cock and lowered herself on it, sighing higher and louder as it slowly went in her wet pussy. She leaned forward as she went up and down on his phallus, squinting her eyes and squealing with pleasure. She focused all her attention on the moment, meditating on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her soaking vagina. He, far apart from meditating, simply couldn't believe what he was doing. "How...can we...do this...without feeling...ashamed of...ourselves?" he asked in moans and grunts, loving the tight, moist feeling of her vagina. "We're not...just fucking, Daddy. This is...a union...of our...souls. Ah!" "You mean, incest...can be...mystical? Oh!" "If we...focus on...our love, and our...oneness. Yes!" she squealed. "Like the...love-making gods...in Hindu..art? Uh!" "Yeah! Oh! Only stupid and...shallow people...go for...only physical...sexual pleasure. Ah! Better people...look for...a deeper meaning." "How are...we one, then?" he asked, fondling her breasts. "Think: I am you...and you are me," she sighed. "I am yin, and you...are yang. Oh!" "We are...each other." He looked out the living room window as he felt her bouncing on him, and saw the starry night sky. Then he looked back up at her, and saw her identity with the outside starlit darkness. She was heaven. She looked down at him on the floor, and saw the pain and loneliness on his face. He was the desert earth of Egypt: all emotional barrenness. She felt that pain of his merge with her being, and in her meditation she tried to transfer her joyful energy down into him, to heal him. Soon his hitherto permanent frown slowly turned into a smile, slightly curving upward to both cheeks. She now had his frown on her face; not a frown of displeasure, though, for this was the best lay she'd had yet! Hers was a frown of compassion for him. Let me get you off as Mom never could, Nat thought. Then she screamed and orgasmed. She got off him, but he wasn't finished yet. She took out a tube of anal lube she'd stowed in the nearby coffee table and pointed her ass at Gabe, displaying her asshole. Though turned on, he blushed. "Since when did we suddenly have a bottle of anal lube in the house?" he asked, ogling her asshole. "I bought it," she said. "There's a tube in every room of our house now; check the drawers everywhere." "Why?" "In case you want anal with me; this way we're prepared. I'll always be nude for you, in case you want sex. Then you can just grab me and have me. I'll never say no." "You're very thoughtful, sweetie," he said, putting his finger on her pretty brown asshole and tickling it. "Daddy," she said in her squeaky little girl's voice. "That's where I go poo-poo." She giggled in a high pitch and looked back at him, smiling lasciviously. "Why do you always talk like a child?" he asked. "Cause you like it." "How do you know that?" "A while back, I saw some of the porn you like to look at on the computer: naked women acting like girly-girls." Looking away in embarrassment, he said, "That explains your pigtails; you never used to wear them." He frowned. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, Daddy. I understand your desires. You're lonely." She handed him the lube. "Wanna put it in my bum?" With widened eyes, she looked back at him and pursed her lips. "Oh, uh, OK, but if I hurt you, tell me, and we'll stop." "OK," she said. He got some of the lube on his fingers and smeared it on her anus and all over her rectal walls. Then he smeared some on his erection, put the tip of his dick against her anal lips, and gently, slowly, began pushing it in. She moaned softly as it went in the first inch, looking back at her dad with accepting eyes. Afraid to see any evidence of pain in her eyes, but still wanting to fuck her ass, he kept looking at her widening asshole. The feeling of those tight anal lips hugging, squeezing his cock was delicious. Both father and daughter moaned and sighed as he carefully slid it in deeper. When it went in all the way, they both groaned loudly, about an octave apart from each other in pitch. As he moved it in and out of her rectum, loving the sensation, he nonetheless looked anxiously at her face, fearing he was hurting her. Instead of seeing pained expressions, however, he saw what seemed a peaceful receptivity: with closed eyes and a mouth as agape as her ass, she simply breathed heavily as she felt his cock filling up her rectum and stretching her tightly squeezing anus. His first anal sex ever, and with his pretty daughter, of all people! He couldn't believe she was actually allowing him to sodomize her. Fingering her hard clitoris, she focused her thoughts on his long, thick phallus as it slid in all the way out out by an inch or two. Treating the sex like a meditation, she thought only about every second of the physical sensation of her rectal walls being stimulated by his cock, blocking out all other distracting thoughts, such as shame, or any fear that somebody might find out what she and her dad were doing. Her vagina was getting wet not just from her tickling of her clitoris, but also from how the stimulation of her rectal walls vibrated over to her vaginal walls. "Oh!" she squealed. "Am I...hurting you?" he grunted. "No," she sighed. "I like it." In her contemplation, she thought also about her oneness with her father--not just physical, but spiritual. Just as he empathized with any physical pain he may have been giving her (which, luckily, wasn't any), she empathized with all the emotional pain he'd suffered through all the years of his marriage and subsequent widowing (which, unfortunately, was a lot). She wanted to absorb his pain, and thus relieve him of it, and also to give him some of her carefree joie de vivre. This way, the two of them would be one in body and soul. She visualized them sharing and exchanging their good and bad energies. He reached forward and cupped her little breasts in his hands, squeezing them gently. She squealed in delight, getting wetter and wetter. He kissed her on her back. "Do you...like it, Daddy? Ah!" "Yeah, unh! But maybe...we should stop." "Why?" "I don't wanna...come inside you." "How about...in my mouth?" "OK." He slowly pulled it out, then looked guiltily at her gaping asshole. "Oh, that looks painful." "No, it's OK. I've done anal before. I'm used to it." She turned around and sat on her knees while he got up and sat on his chair. She knelt between his legs and wiped his cock clean with a wet-nap from her purse. Then she put the tip of his dick to her lips, looked up lovingly at him, and purred, "This is for you, Daddy." "Thank you, sweetheart," he moaned, looking down at her as she, always looking up in his eyes, began licking and kissing the knob of his cock. Then she slowly put it in her mouth, sliding her wet, red lipstick-painted lips along the shaft, her eyes locked on his. He looked down at her naked young body, with only heavy, brightly coloured makeup covering any of her tawny skin. She looked up at his clothed, pale-skinned, older body. Smirking lewdly as she sucked, she had a twinkle in her eyes, showing her eager willingness to please him with her mouth. Sighing in disbelief as he felt his stony cock come closer to ejaculation, he had dreamily half-closed eyes, feeling thankful to heaven for having so kind and giving a daughter. Moving her head back and forth on his phallus faster and faster, she put her hand in his unzipped pants and pulled his balls out, caressing the scrotum and gently shaking the testicles. He groaned out loud, ready to come. Anticipating his orgasm, she pulled his cock out with a popping sound as her lips left his knob. Keeping his dick-hole pointed straight at her face, she wrapped her fingers tightly around his saliva-coated shaft and slid them back and forth along it. Within seconds, he sprayed his accumulated pleasure all over her eyes, nose, cheeks, and lips. Her whole face was soaking in his foam. She looked up at him with half-closed eyes (for his come had them practically sealed) and giggled like a little girl. Looking down at her in amazement, he sighed, "How did you...learn to...do that?" "Lots of practice," she said, the come running down her face and dripping off her lips to the point where articulate speech was difficult. "And lots of love for you." She visualized his come seeping into her pores, giving her his energy, energy of sadness transformed into joy. He put his spent member back in his pants and zipped them up; she got up and sat on his lap. They held each other, careful not to let his come get on his clothes. "Don't you want to wipe your face?" he asked. "No," she said. "I want to absorb your passion, as you've been absorbing mine." "I have?" "Of course. As we screwed, I visualized us sharing and exchanging energy: your pain, my joy; your age, my youth; your inhibition, my lack of it; your blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, with my black hair, black eyes, and darker skin; your being clothed, and my nakedness. All opposites joined--we're one, Daddy. Peace." Gabe's First Everything "So, here's the thing. Gabe's never so much as kissed anyone before. He's kind of embarrassed about it. And he asked me if I thought you might be interested in maybe going out with him and, you know, helping him out with that." Anya giggled. "And I thought, well, you've mentioned that you think he's cute, and sweet, and... well, I figured I'd ask you, and if you think it could work, I'll ask if he wants to." She put her hands over her face. "This is ridiculous, isn't it? Arranging someone's first kiss?" I tried to stifle a laugh, but my cheeks were burning. "He is sweet," I allowed. "But, wow, to be someone's first kiss - no, to PLAN to be someone's first kiss. That's kind of awkward. It's not like I have sooo much experience, you know." "But would you at least maybe come to our suite party tomorrow and see where things take you? He said he wanted to come." "Sure, I mean, I'll come to the party. Just...don't tell him I've agreed to kiss him. That would just make everything weird. Tell him I'll be there, I guess?" Anya grinned. "Will do. Sorry if this was a completely ridiculous thing to ask you." To be honest, I was kind of flattered, but it did seem like an odd thing to be doing, especially for a junior in college. Why couldn't he just ask me out? What was with the go-between? "No, that's okay." I lowered my voice. "He's really never kissed someone?" "He's pretty shy," she said. I nodded. "I'll be there," I said. *** Gabe's arms around me are warm and comfortable. He kisses my mouth and down the side of my neck. I pull his face to my chest, and he reaches behind me to unhook my bra, then lifts my shirt off. I let my bra slide off my arms. "Is this really your first time?" I ask, breathless. "I've been dreaming of this for a long time," he says. He kisses one breast and then the other, then continues his string of kisses down to the waistband of my jeans. He massages my breasts and rolls my nipples between his fingers. He returns to my lips and kisses me passionately while working the button and zipper of my jeans. I slip them off, then help him out of his shirt and pants. He lays me down reverently on his bed, studies my body, then lays down beside me, propped up on one elbow. He starts at the top again and works his way down, kissing my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, then my inner thighs. He sucks on each big toe, then pushes my legs apart and touches my clit with one finger. I moan. He plays with my clit while sucking on my nipple. "Please," I whisper. He kisses me on the mouth again. I reach down to push at the waistband of his boxers, and he helps me take them off. I sit up and wrap my hand around his cock. It's big, much bigger than I expected, thick and hard and so ready. I curl around and take it into my mouth. He groans and grabs my hair in two fists. I move up and down, sucking and teasing with my tongue until he pushes me back. "I'm ready," he says. I lie back and open my legs. He guides himself into me slowly, savoring the moment. I feel him deep inside me. With a shudder and a cry, he pulls out, then plunges in again, faster. I rise to meet him. Just a few more strokes and I'll cum. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him in, hugging him close. I need to feel his body against mine. "Please," I say again, louder, and he pinches my nipple with one hand and kisses me again. "Yes, there!" I cry, and I cum hard, toes curling, my clit and pussy pulsing with release. "Oh God!" he exclaims. With a strangled groan, he cums inside me and collapses atop me. *** I awoke with a start, breathing hard. That was the most vivid sex dream I'd ever had. I'd really only had sex with one guy, and he hadn't been nearly as skilled as the Gabe of my dream. Our first time had been awkward and uncomfortable and it hadn't gotten much better the few more times we'd tried. I wondered if Gabe really just wanted a first kiss or if had something else in mind. I had to get that dream out of my head before I saw him at the party or I wouldn't be able to face him! The next evening, I showed up at Anya's suite with a slight case of the jitters. It felt like a huge responsibility, being someone's first - knowingly, purposely being someone's first. I had changed my outfit four times, put makeup on and washed most of it off, put my hair up and then brushed it out so it flowed gently around my shoulders. I'd finally ended up with what I hoped was a balance between "fuck me now" and "I'm your sweet girl next door" with a loose, red tank over tight jeans, my cute leather jacket, and boots with a low heel. My lips had a hint of color and my blue eyes were just a bit enhanced. "You look so cute!" Anya exclaimed. Her three suitemates were scattered around their common room, each with a glass of wine. Anya's parties were no red-Solo-cup affairs. "Who else is coming?" I asked, accepting a glass of white wine from her. "Well, Gabe, obviously." She leaned in and whispered, "He's so nervous. But he was happy you said you'd come." "Thanks, I think." "No, he likes you. I think he thinks you're, you know, safe. Non-threatening." "Ah." I was still not sure if that was a compliment or not. "Anyway. He's bringing his roommate. What's his name? Jonah?" I nodded. "And I invited Kate and asked her to bring her suitemates, but I don't know exactly who'll be here." "Cool." It sounded like a nice, sedate crowd. We'd sit around drinking wine and eating cheese, talk and laugh, and then? Was I supposed to take Gabe into Anya's bedroom and pounce on him? Was I supposed to invite him back to my room? Was I supposed to go up to his? How exactly did this work? I sat in Anya's desk chair and crossed my ankles, trying to seem casual. I drank my first glass of wine pretty fast, though. Gabe and Jonah came in a few minutes later. Gabe smiled nervously at me, then proceeded to sit across the room from me on the window seat with Jonah. He was wearing dress pants with a belt and a button-down, blue shirt. It was very...Gabe. He liked to look neat and professional. He refused a drink. Great. I wouldn't even have him a little loosened up. I really had no idea how to approach this. Anya went over to Gabe and Jonah and engaged them in conversation. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but soon Jonah got up and joined Anya on the rug. Anya caught my eye and tilted her head toward Gabe. Wasn't this a silly little game we were playing! I got up and went over to the window seat. "Mind if I sit here?" I asked. I swallowed hard against a mad case of the giggles. "Uh. Sure." He was not laughing. Or even smiling. Now what? Make small talk? "Aren't you in Dr. Scherr's stats class?" He nodded. "I took that last semester. He's a pretty cool prof." He nodded. Oh my God, say something! "Um, you're a Soc major, right?" He nodded. I sighed. "Look, um, I know this is kind of awkward what Anya did. I want you to know that there's really no pressure. This is a party. We can just talk." "I -" He cleared his throat. "I know." He scooted toward me an inch. "Can we go up to my room and talk? I feel conspicuous here. I'm not much of a party-goer." I actually did kind of want to stay and join the party for a bit, but he looked so earnest and a little scared. He was cute. "Sure. Let me just say hi to a couple of people and tell Anya I'm leaving." "Okay." I saw Kate coming in with a few friends of hers I knew vaguely. Anya was sitting in a circle on the rug with Jonah and her suitemates, all laughing and talking around a spread of cheese and crackers. Anya looked up at me. "Go," she said, grinning widely. I laughed. "You're crazy, you know that," I said. "Setting this up." She just smirked at me. I beckoned to Gabe. "Ready?" I asked. "Uh." He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Sure." His room was just upstairs from Anya's suite. We went inside and he offered me his desk chair. He sat in the other chair - Jonah's, I assumed - and scooted close enough to talk comfortably, but not close enough to touch easily. "So, um," he started. "So," he said again. "What would you like to do, Gabe?" I asked. I decided a direct approach was easiest. He looked down at his hands, fiddled with a button on his shirt. "I like you," he said after a moment. It seemed like that was very hard for him to say. "And I'd like to spend some time with you." He didn't look at me. "Sure, we can do that," I said. I rolled my chair a few inches closer to him, so our knees were almost touching, and leaned forward. I laid my hand on his knee. His eyes widened. He cleared his throat. "Do you want a drink or something to help you relax?" I asked. He shook his head. "I don't drink." Great, I thought. I had no idea where to start. "Tell me something about yourself," I said. "I want to," he said. "I want to explain." "Explain what?" "Explain...what I want." He finally met my eyes. "I don't know...I don't know what to do with a girl," he said in a rush. He focused on my hand, resting gently on his knee. "I was raised in a very conservative, religious family. We didn't talk about... You know... Boys and girls." He pushed his chair away from me, out of my reach, and turned slightly so his side was toward me. His cheeks were red. "I didn't know that." No wonder he seemed so nervous. "No one does. I'm so embarrassed about it. People make jokes and I don't know what they mean, or I don't get the joke, or I don't even realize they're making a joke. People talk about...you know...and I can't even... I can't even pretend. So I just leave." He sighed. And suddenly Gabe made sense to me. He'd always seemed respectful and kind, reserved, but naive and timid and incredibly, unexplainably shy. "What would you like to do tonight, Gabe?" I asked again, very quietly. He turned so his back was to me. I got up and went to sit on his bed instead of his chair. From there, I could see the side of his face. He didn't turn away, but he didn't look at me. "Will you... I... How can I say this?" "Do you want me to touch you? Kiss you?" I felt almost protective of him. His innocence made him so endearing. I was incredibly attracted to him, more than I had been before, and I was emboldened. One of us had to be...not nervous. "Would you?" he said. I smiled. "Come sit next to me. I can't reach you over there." I held out my hand to him. "Are you sure you don't want a drink? Something to help you relax a little?" With what seemed to be a great triumph of will, he came to sit next to me on the bed, very close but not touching. "I really don't drink," he said. "Okay. How about this?" I put a hand on his shoulder, and when he didn't flinch away, I moved behind him and started rubbing his neck and shoulders lightly. He was so tense. After a few minutes, some of the tension in his shoulders released. I leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. He smelled good, like shaving gel and laundry detergent. He swallowed. "That feels nice," he said. He twisted sideways so he could face me. With a shaking hand, he reached up and cupped my cheek. I smiled at him. I took his hand from my cheek and guided it up to stroke my hair. When he continued touching me without my assistance, I put my hands behind his head and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Oh," he said when I pulled away. He licked his lips. I waited, and after another moment, he put his hands on either side of my face and returned my kiss, holding it a bit longer before letting go. "Okay?" I asked. He smiled for the first time that evening. "Do you want to stop?" I asked. "No," he whispered. "Mind if I take off my jacket? It's warm in here." He shook his head and I let my jacket fall to the floor, leaving my shoulders and arms bare. I kicked off my boots, too. Then I kissed him again. He put his arms around me and kissed me back. I opened my lips and poked my tongue out. He backed off, clearly startled. "Sorry," I said. "No. No, it's okay. I just...wasn't expecting that." He gave a nervous chuckle. He pressed his lips against mine tentatively. I put his hands on my hips and put mine behind his neck. I tried the tongue again, and this time he opened his mouth. I opened my mouth wider and he met my tongue with his. He was catching on quickly. His lips were soft, his touch gentle but willing. The kiss went on for a long time. When he finally backed off, he was breathing hard. I was more than a little turned on, myself. "What now?" he asked. I took his hands in mine. "Whatever you want," I whispered. "Do you want to keep going?" I was ready to take him all the way, but I wasn't sure how he felt about it. "I don't know." My instinct was to back off. I didn't know anyone who'd gone from never-been-kissed to losing-his-virginity in one night. "Maybe we can go for a walk or something another time, and then see where that leads us." I no longer had any illusions that this night would be anything like the dream I'd had! He looked down. He seemed disappointed and relieved at the same time. He hesitated, started to say something, then kissed me again. I put his hands on my shoulders and he ran them down my back and then back up. His confidence was growing. I stroked his chest, the back of his neck, up and down his back. Suddenly, he stopped and stood up. "Wait," he said. He was sweating, panting. He looked terrified. "What is it?" I asked. "What's going to happen? What are we doing?" I shook my head. "I don't know. Whatever you want. If you want to stop, we can stop." "I don't know what I want," he said. He sank back down onto the bed beside me. "Okay. That's fair," I said. "Are you uncomfortable?" He nodded. I wondered just how little he knew about sex. I mean, surely he'd watched movies and TV shows where they talk about it, or even do it, right? He had to have some idea. He had to have masturbated before. Don't all teenage boys do that? I had the incredulous thought that maybe he had never actually orgasmed, and that's why he was so out of sorts. "Gabe, um, were you thinking we might have sex tonight?" He put his hands over his face and nodded. "There's no pressure, you know." "I know," he said. Then words started pouring out of him. "I really like you. I've liked you for so long, ever since we lived on the same floor freshman year. I used to watch you bring that guy into your room and wish it was me. And when he dumped you, I wanted to be the one to comfort you, and I was so angry at him for making you sad, but so happy that you were available. But I couldn't find the courage to talk to you or ask you out or even sit next to you in the dining hall. And I don't want to be that guy anymore, the one who watches from a distance and pines away and misses my chance. So I asked Anya to set up this party and keep Jonah away and - well, now here we are and I'm so mixed up and overwhelmed because you're here. You're really here in my room and I just want to touch you and hold you and be with you. And I'm afraid of what comes next because I don't want to disappoint you." The barrage of words ended. I didn't know what to say. I'd had no idea he felt that strongly. "I like you, too," I said. "And I don't want you to feel pressured to do anything just because you think I expect it." I held out my hand and he took it. I stood up and pulled him to his feet. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my head against his shoulder. He hugged me tightly and kissed the top of my head. When he loosened his grip, I lifted my head to look up at him. He met my eyes, then hesitantly bent his face toward me and kissed me. I held him in a slow, sweet kiss and let the tension build, then ran my fingers through his hair and down his back. When I reached his waist, I untucked his shirt and slipped my hands up underneath it. He gasped, but didn't pull away. I caressed his back and then around and up his chest. He froze. I waited, looking up at him. I rested my hands on his stomach under his shirt. "What is it?" I asked. My voice was husky. "I want this more than anything I've wanted in my life," he said. I smiled. "Kiss my neck," I said. "Right here." I pointed to a spot just under my ear. He put his hands on my shoulders and did so. A shiver ran through me at the light touch. "Does that feel good?" he asked. "Yes," I said. I returned the gesture, then kissed down the side of his neck to his collar. As I did so, I unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt and continued the line of kisses to his collarbone. "Should I take my shirt off?" he asked. "If you want." He pulled his shirt up over his head, then kissed that spot on my neck again. He copied my string of kisses down to my collarbone. His touch was so gentle, but he was less hesitant. He touched my shoulders and trailed his fingers down my arms. I guided his hands to my waist and up under my shirt. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands inched upward. He stopped when he brushed against my bra. "It's okay," I said. "Go ahead." "Are you sure?" I laughed. "If we're going to have sex, you're going to touch a whole lot more than that," I said. His cheeks reddened. I reached around behind me and unhooked my bra, then shed my shirt and bra quickly. "There," I said. "Now we're even." He stared at me. It was like it hadn't occurred to him that we would have to get naked to do this. His eyes flitted to my exposed breasts, then back to my face, then back to my breasts. "Oh my gosh," he said. "I'll take that as a compliment." I smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed. It was a nervous laugh, but it was a laugh. "Can I...touch them?" He reached out toward me. I took his hands and put one on each breast. I moved in close to kiss him on the mouth again. After a moment, I backed away. "If you think something might feel nice, go ahead and try it," I said. "I'll let you know if I don't like it. And you let me know if you don't like something I do." He nodded but didn't move. "Do we need, you know, a condom?" he asked, concern heavy in his voice. I assumed he didn't have one. My thoughts raced. He's a virgin. He must be clean. He's never even seen boobs before. I was on birth control and had been tested. It was okay, wasn't it? It had been drilled into me that you don't fuck someone new without a condom until you're both sure it's safe, but...who could be safer than Gabe? I couldn't bear to break the mood and go all the way to my room to get a condom. "I think we're okay without one," I said. "If you're okay with it. I'm on birth control." He nodded. "I trust you," he said. He took a step toward me and stroked the sides of my breasts with his fingertips, then leaned down to kiss my nipples. "They're soft," he breathed. I entwined my fingers in his hair and held his mouth to my nipple. After a confused moment, he opened his mouth and sucked experimentally. I moaned at the sensation. With that encouragement, he sucked harder, then switched to the other side. It was almost like he was trying out things he'd read about or seen on TV but hadn't believed people actually did to each other. I hoped he'd read the right kind of books. He was good at this. With each suck, he flicked his tongue across my nipple. I wanted more, and he seemed willing. Quickly, I unbuckled his belt. He didn't seem to notice. All his attention was on my breasts, touching one and sucking on the other, then switching. I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. He grunted but didn't protest. I slipped a hand down the front of his boxers and touched his cock. His breath exploded out of him. "Ooohhh," he moaned. Clearly no one had ever done that to him before! I grinned and pushed his pants and underwear down. His cock was hard. He stood up straight and let his pants fall to the floor. Gabe's First Everything "May I?" I asked. He opened his mouth to answer, but only managed a squeak. He nodded instead. I knelt down in front of him and helped him step out of his pants and boxers. I kissed his stomach and touched his cock lightly with my thumb and forefinger. "Are you going to..." He trailed off when I put the head of his cock in my mouth and teased with my tongue. I wasn't sure how long he'd be able to hold back, or even if he knew he could or should. I remembered my first time with my ex being kind of short. I moved my mouth up and down a few times until he trembled, then stood up again. He kissed me hard, full of passion, like he didn't know where to direct all the energy inside him. I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and pushed them off quickly. "Let's lie down," I said. His bed was made neatly- of course - so I yanked the blankets off and pulled him down on top of me. He supported his weight on his arms and looked into my eyes. Without breaking eye contact, I lifted my hips so I could slide my panties off. "Touch me," I whispered. He put his hand between my legs. When he found the warm wetness of my pussy, he smiled and tentatively pushed one finger into me. We both moaned. "I can't..." he gasped. "I can't wait any longer." I spread my legs and reached down to help guide him in. A long, low groan came from deep in his throat as his cock slid slowly in. He waited for a moment, then some instinct overtook him and he drew out, then plunged back in. I moved my hips to meet him, threw my head back, closed my eyes, wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his shoulders and hugged him close. He buried his face in my hair, lost in his own frenzy of sensations. I felt an orgasm building as the speed of his fucking increased. With a cry, he came, then lay on top of me, panting. I was so close. I ground my clit against his pelvis, trying to get release. Finally, I shoved my hand between us and rubbed my clit fast and hard. My thighs clenched around him and I came with a silent scream. He propped himself up on his elbows as my pussy pulsed around his softening cock. After a minute, I opened my eyes to see him staring down at me. "You can roll over if you want," I said. "I don't ever want to move." He kissed me gently on the lips, as if he was in awe that he was actually allowed to do that. He shifted his weight so he was lying on his side next to me. He was quiet for a while, and I thought he'd fallen asleep. I was floating in a half-asleep haze when he whispered, "Can we do that again?" I laughed, fully awake. "Now?" He rolled back on top of me and pushed up on his hands. "Show me how to make you feel as good as you made me feel," he said. With a grin, I put my hands on either side of his head and guided his mouth to my nipple. "Start here," I said.