Log in:
Username
Password
Keep me logged in (help)

Forgot username or password?

Create new login

You can change the width of the story text shown below:
Use how much percent of the screen width?

[ default ] [ 10% ] [ 20% ] [ 30% ] [ 40% ] [ 50% ] [ 60% ] [ 70% ] [ 80% ] [ 90% ] [ 100% ]

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version  |  Mark story  |  Mark author

Don't forget to vote for this story, in the yellow voting box below the story!

Chrissie Bentley has been interviewed! Click here to read interview.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

It was a warm night, an untucked sheet was all that covered the bed. I pulled it back and looked at his body, curled on one side, his pale shoulders hunched to hide his chest from my view, one leg drawn up to rest against his tummy. I'd been wrong - he wasn't wearing briefs, and I stood and walked to the end of the bed, to catch a glimpse of his bare ass and... oh, his balls. I don't know why, but I'd not been expecting them. But I knelt and looked and wondered what else I could see if I was careful about it?

Nothing ventured.... He'd invited me to sleep over, and sleeping over... if he awoke and asked what was going on... was what I intended doing. I sat on the bed; then lay down, pushing at his bony knee and elbow with my own, prompting him to - yes, steady now, just a bit more... he rolled over, onto his back.

I lay still for a moment. He was still sleeping. I sat up, then swung my legs carefully off the bed. I wondered how many other girls my age get a chance like this, to actually inspect the body of their prospective first lover. For all my experience on the bus, after all, I was still a virgin in every department bar masturbation. I decided to make the most of the opportunity.

I was not impressed. His chest was as pale as his shoulders, and his nipples might as well have been acne spots. The few hairs that sprang there were too sad to even be called straggly and, as my eyes drifted down his body.... I shook my head. What was I expecting? He was a 17 year-old boy, with - I assumed - an 17-year-old boy's body. To even try and compare what he had with a grown man twice his age... a grown man, I had to remind myself, whose own body I had only felt, never seen... was absurd.

Besides, what was that mantra that the problem pages keep repeating, when Disappointed of Duluth writes into complain that her husband's privates are too small? "It ain't what you got, it's what you do with it that counts." I looked down again at Lawrence's cock, soft and white, flat on his belly, maybe three inches long, and smiled. Well, that's what I've got. What can I do with it?

My mind was racing. It was so skinny. Was it even as thick as Bryan's finger had been on the bus? I remembered how hard it had been for him to push one inside me... of course I'd experimented on my own later, and felt quite proud when I found I could stick two of my own in there, and most of the way in as well. But that was hardly the same thing. If I was to let Lawrence try it, would he be any more successful? Maybe that's why most girls end up doing it the first time with a boy their own age... and size. Because an older man is a bigger man, and we're just not built for that....

I stared. I didn't know what to do. At night in the dark, with only my libido for company, there was no end to the notions that flooded through my mind. But confronted with the real thing... or, at least, what would probably become the real thing, as long as I did the right thing... my mind was a blank wall of - panic? No. It was shyness, nervousness... "a-ha," chimed a spiteful voice in my sub-conscious. "Not quite the Sex Queen of the East Coast Bus Ride any longer, are we?"

I wanted to touch it. But I didn't want to awaken him. Would one necessarily follow the other? The girls at school often giggled about boys... usually brothers, sometimes others... waking up with early-morning boners. It never seemed to occur to any of us to ask, did they have the boner because they'd awoken? Or did they awaken because they had the boner? Why did no-one ever tell us that?

I reached out my hand, one finger tip poised above his shaft. Just the lightest of touches... I dabbed at the soft flesh. He never moved; it never moved. I did it again, and this time let my fingertip linger. Still nothing. Maybe it was broken? Was that why he had never tried anything on? Two fingers now, then three, and I pressed down a little... oh! Was it my imagination, or was there... a faint pulse, the vague sensation of the flesh moving a little, not quite a ripple, but certainly a motion.

I pulled my hand away. He slept on. I reached down again, bolder this time...three fingers on one side of the shaft, my thumb on the other. I squeezed lightly. This time, there was no mistaking it. There was definitely something happening.

I lifted it... just a little. It felt heavy, suddenly warmer, suddenly fuller. I was fascinated. Bryan's had already been raging hard when I reached it, already demanding that I hold it and squeeze it and rub it and.... Lawrence's, on the other hand, needed to be coaxed to life; needed - what? I carried on rubbing it, still between fingers and thumb, felt it swelling to fill my fist.

I thought about Bryan, how he had wrapped my hand all the way around his, and shown me how to jerk him. Would Lawrence want that as well? I would need to lift it up higher if I was going to do that... not for the first time, I wished I could have pulled the jacket off Bryan's lap, and actually seen what I was doing to him. With a picture in my mind, at least I'd know if I was doing things correctly.

I curled my fingers around Lawrence's shaft. He fit snugly in my hand, and I began to work him like I'd worked Bryan, slow strokes that flowed from one end to the other. It was a shorter trip this time, of course, but maybe my wrist wouldn't get so tired. Up and down, up and down.

His flesh was clammy in my hand, not quite as bone-hard as I'd expected, but maybe that was still to come. But he was certainly kicking off as much heat as Bryan, and if I leaned closer... a smell, a faint musky odor that danced in my nostrils and... I suddenly realized how wet my pussy was.

I wondered... I'd seen photographs of couples screwing, with the girl seated on top. If I straddled him, placed the tip of his cock inside me, just as far as it would comfortably go.... But no. What if he came? I wasn't on the pill, he wasn't wearing a condom. That wouldn't work. I'd have to do it myself.

I teased myself with a fingertip, in and around my lips, across the fleshy pastures around my clitoris, pressing down... and then a practiced flick. I caught my breath as the first tremble raced through me, reminded myself that some people were still sleeping, tried to regulate my own thrills to the steady rhythm that I was beating out on Lawrence's meat.

He gave a moan, and shifted on the bed; I stopped what I was doing and, still gripping his dick in one hand, my clit in the other, I studied his face. If he had woken up, he was doing a good job of disguising it... but I couldn't imagine him doing that. Slowly I resumed my strokes with one hand, my flicks with the other; and then, as I felt myself cumming... swallowing the cry that sprang to my lips... he did awaken, sitting up with a groan, a choked, confused "what?" - and an orgasm that spat thick and white and creamy on my hand, up my arm... more than I could have imagined, more than Bryan had shot across me.

Lawrence shattered my reverie, as he took my hand in his, his own thumb running through the mess of his own cum that streaked it, and made a face. "Yuk. I'm sorry about that." And then, as he shook the sleepiness from his head... "oh fuck. Oh shit.... Chrissie. I am so sorry. Please believe me." There was genuine panic in his voice... no, scrub panic. He was terrified. And he just kept on repeating "sorry."

I looked at him quizzically. What was he apologizing for? For cumming? For cumming on my hand? For giving me one of the biggest thrills of my entire life, and filling my mind with even more dreams to pursue through the nights that lay ahead. Like... what would it have felt like if I had slipped him inside me? Or what, when I leaned down to breathe in his musk, if I had leaned closer still and run my tongue across the tip? The thoughts were making me hot again and, with that heat, there came the realization that, just maybe, I could answer some of those "what ifs" here and now.

I kissed him on the mouth; hard enough to push him back down on the mattress, hard enough that I hoped he would forget the shock of one kind of awakening, and work, instead, towards an arousal of a very different kind.

He moved away from me. "I really didn't mean to."

"Okay...." It seemed the safest thing to say.

"Please, you have to believe me. You do, don't you?"

"Of course I do," I answered... totally unaware of what, precisely, I was meant to be believing. He stammered on. "I mean, I didn't know... I was asleep... I must have been dreaming...." And suddenly it clicked. He thought he'd been jerking himself off in his sleep, that I was simply an innocent bystander, caught in the line of fire. I opened my mouth to tell him "no," to explain what really happened. And then I thought better of it. Instead, I put on my best look of innocence. "Well, I was a little surprised."

He turned away from me. "You probably think I'm disgusting."

I placed my hand on his shoulder, pulled him back towards me. "Of course I don't. In fact..." - an idea was forming in my mind. "In fact, the only regret I have is..." and now I did raise my hand to my face, inhaled the murky scent that still clung to my skin, and felt an answering pulse of desire in my pussy. "That I slept through almost the whole thing; that it was you doing it to yourself, and not me."

His eyes widened. "You mean you don't mind... that you want to...." I kissed him again. "Of course I do, Lawrence. I wouldn't be here otherwise. We are spending the night together, after all."

"Yes, but when you wanted to stay downstairs, I just thought... well, we're friends, and maybe you wanted to keep it at that."

I could have punched him. Are girls really that hard to understand? Instead, I placed my hand on his thigh, carefully avoiding actual contact with his cock, but close enough that there could be little doubting my ultimate intentions. I saw him swallow hard, and I smiled. "Just show me what to do."

"I don't know..." his voice was tiny, and his eyes were looking everywhere but at me. "It's just something that I do."

I reached out now, and touched him, surprised that he was so hard again... somehow, I thought it took a guy a while to "recover." He inhaled noisily.

"Is this right?" I asked.

Lawrence nodded vigorously, and I began to move my fingers a little, drumming them against his firm flesh. Again he nodded, and I began to understand that I could do virtually anything I wanted, and he'd be happy. In fact, it suddenly struc me that, as far as he was concerned, this was the first time he'd ever been touched by a girl.

I squeezed and felt a thrill as his cock not only twitched, but also raised itself up off his belly. I slipped my fingers beneath it, curling my fist around him, and squeezed again; then shifted so I was sitting up, looking down at him.

"What happens," I asked, "when I do this?" I tugged the skin back firmly, until the edge of my hand brushed the edge of his scrotum.

"It's great," he whispered.

"And this?" I drew my hand forward, noticing how my thumb rolled over the ridge of his helmet. "Yes," he gasped.

I held him motionless, pointing straight up, and placed my other hand, palm down, on the very tip of his cock. It felt different to the shaft - not softer, exactly, but springier. I rubbed, and his eyes were sparkling now, so I dragged my palm gently across, until a single finger was touching the head, pressing down into the hole at the end. He gave a little groan, and I rewarded him with another rub of his shaft.

"Oh shit, I'm going to cum again," he murmured.

"Why ‘shit'? Isn't that what you're meant to do?"

"Yes, but I wanted to last longer, so you could... so I could...." I began jerking him, gripping tight and moving faster, watching as his hips began to buck and then, with a powerful groan....

There wasn't anywhere near so much juice this time, and it leaked, rather than spurted from the tip, only slowly and, it seemed, reluctantly dribbling down his helmet. I placed a finger in it, smeared the glob around, fascinated by its thickness, its creaminess. I looked at Lawrence. His eyes were closed, so I raised the finger towards my lips, held it for a moment, daring myself to touch it to my tongue.

I couldn't do it. I wanted to, and I knew I would be regretting my reluctance tomorrow. But for now, no. Later in life, I'd find out that tasting cum is something that few girls do naturally, and some never do at all, no matter what else they get up to with their men. And, at that particular moment in time, I understood exactly how they felt. The idea was exciting, the fantasy was fabulous. But the reality was just a little too... real?

I wiped the finger clean on the sheets, as Lawrence reached out to hug me, pressing himself against me and cradling one of my breasts in his hand. He was rough, but it felt good anyway, as his palm brushed my nipple and his fingers clenched the flesh on the underside. "Thank you," he breathed. "That was wonderful."

"I know," I laughed gently. "I love doing that to you... and I love what you're doing now." He squeezed, hard, and I bit back an admonishment. Instead, I thought about another of my favorite fantasies, and wondered.... "But don't just use your hands," I told him. "Kiss me there as well."

Dutifully, his head sank to my chest, and he planted a wet kiss there, closer to my armpit than my nipple. I let out a little gasp, more for his benefit than my own; then, laying my hand against the side of his face, guided him in the direction I wanted him to travel.

He was a quick learner. Three more kisses, two exploratory licks, and suddenly his lips came in contact with my nipple... paused for a moment as though uncertain what to do...and then closed tightly over the bud and started sucking. I embraced the back of his head with one arm, then threw the other one over him too, holding him in place, glorying in the exquisite pleasure of having my tit sucked for the very first time... and wondering whether anybody had ever cum from that sensation alone? Anybody else, that is, because I knew that I was about to....

"Wow." Lawrence waited till it was over, until my grip on his head had relaxed sufficiently for him to unclamp his mouth from my breast. "Did you...?"

I nodded. "Yeah...."

He was gazing at me with what I can only describe as undisguised astonishment and, just as I had pondered earlier on the untold secrets of the male erection, I wondered precisely what boys were taught about the female orgasm. I cuddled up to him. "I'd love for you to do it again."

"Really? Already?" He lowered his head again towards my breast... the same one... but I stopped him. "No, not like that..." I took his hand and placed it on my pussy. "Like this."

I remembered the last time I did this with him, how he had leaped so panic-stricken away from me. I hoped that this time, he might be a little less squeamish - and I was pretty sure he would be. His touch was uncertain but firm; I kept my grip on his hand, traced his fingers across my lips; took the middle one, and pushed it in a little, then a little more. I let go, and he rewarded me with a tentative thrust; I kissed him, and received another. "That's it, babe," I breathed. "Keep doing it like that..."

I was still very tight, it was still a squeeze. But it was easier than before, and I had a feeling that, with a little practice and patience.... I closed my eyes and lay back, relaxing as his finger found a not-too-slow rhythm and stuck with it. I let my mind drift... the feel of his cock, the touch of his sperm, the smell of his body, the pull of his lips, the rough scratch of his tongue as it ran over my nipple. How would it feel in other places? I tried to imagine that... to replace, in my mind, his finger with his tongue, but the motion was wrong; a tongue couldn't thrust like that (how little I knew back then!). A tongue lolled and flicked and rolled... mmmm.

I reached down for his hand, pulled it the tiny distance from my hole to my clitoris, rolled the tip of his finger around and across it, flinching a little at the unexpected shock of his unwitting clumsiness, but thrilling, too, at the delicious sharpness of that shock. "Do you feel that... just there?" I whispered.

"I think so," he replied.

"Now, very gently, very slowly..." gripping his finger, I started to swirl it over the spot, seeking out my own speed and pressure... "like this, just like this...." I released his finger and, though he faltered for a second, he quickly picked it up again; seemed to sense, too, as my own needs started to shift... a little faster, a little harder, a little more...

He shifted his weight on the bed; I paid no attention, my eyes were closed tight, my arms stretched out above me, one hand on the headboard, the other crushing a pillow between my fingers... and suddenly - "uuuhhhh!" With his free hand, he had jabbed a finger inside me; hard inside me, jack-hammering in and out as his other continued stroking my clit - did he come up with that idea by himself? And, oh my God, could he even guess how fabulous it felt?

Every thrust was paradise - with every one, my voice rang out "oh-oh-oh-oh!" I reached for him, for some flesh to hold, to bite, to cling to as my third orgasm of the night began to build around his magical fingers. My eyes opened, I turned my head; and, for a moment, I couldn't work out what had happened. Where his head had been, there was a semi-hard cock; the lips I was about to kiss was a tight little ball-bag.... Which meant... I raised my head, saw his face poised just inches from my cunt, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open, his tongue a tiny tip of pink on the lips.

What now? Was he as fascinated by what he saw, as I was when I looked at him? Was he as uncertain? I wished we were older, more experienced, more confident, that we could speak about what we were thinking, that we could find the words to express the urges, the desire and the fears that bombarded our minds. Did everything have to be a matter of trial and error, of discovery and danger?

I moistened a finger tip on my tongue, touched it to his scrotum, and replaced it in my mouth. Was it my imagination, or did I taste the slightest trace of tart sweetness on my skin?

I did it again, drew my finger up the shaft this time, felt his cock jolt at my touch. Again, that salty taste, elusive and beguiling, like a perfume faint on a passing breeze... I gripped him, gently angling his shaft towards me, staring into its one eye as his own movements grew faster, harder, more urgent. The eye was wide open; if I moved in really close, I could look straight down inside him.... If I moved in even closer, I could....

I was so close to cumming. I could feel it deep inside me, a vivid rush of indescribable feelings biding their time, gathering their forces, building their strength.... One kiss; I would give him one kiss. I would press my lips to the fat purple head of his prick, a quick peck, the teensiest of tastes. I would... I wanted... I was... I screamed, as my soul shattered into a thousand exquisite needles, each one blasting out of me and through me and across me, and my entire body was levitating off the bed, to float in a sea of unbelievable physical ecstasy.

Everything else forgotten, every other desire lost as every inch of flesh concentrated only on the moment, drawing it out, dragging it on, squirming against Lawrence's fingers as if their very presence was sufficient to keep this beauty boiling forever....

It subsided. Finally it subsided, and I lay there exhausted. Outside, I could see dawn breaking over suburbia, but that was nothing to the light that had broken over Lawrence's face, as he held me tight, stroking my hair down my back, his hardness a warm, but undemanding pressure against my thigh. "I have to do something about that," I promised myself, "but not right now... not yet... right now, I just want to lie in his arms, feel him close..." I could feel myself slipping into sleep, and I curled my arm tighter against his back, holding him to me as I drifted.

The last thing I heard... that I think I heard... before I lost consciousness, was a whisper in my ear. "When you came... right when you came... you said something... I think you said ‘lick me'.... I wasn't sure. But if you want me to, next time... I will.... I want to...."

I felt an answer drift into my mind, I know what that answer was. But I simply couldn't form the words in my mouth... and had he even said anything for me to reply to? Or was I dreaming already? I didn't know. But I guessed we'd soon find out.

For anybody who's keeping track of such things, this story follows on from the events described in HOW FAR ARE YOU GOING?; and immediately precedes those referred to in LOVE BITES. But, of course, you should read them in whichever order you like. Just don't forget to write and tell what you thought. Thanks!

Do you like this story? If you do, you may be interested to know that the author also has several other stories on the site that are available to the members of the EroticStories.com FanClub!
Click here to read more about the FanClub.

Request from webmaster Art:
Don't forget to vote for this story in the yellow voting box below!
Authors really appreciate the votes and it only takes a few seconds!

Options: Plain text or PDF (fanclub only!) version for easy saving or printing

ESmail: Click here to send a private message to Chrissie Bentley (with ESmail, the site's internal message system)

Authors appreciate feedback! Please vote, and write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!

Profile for Chrissie Bentley, incl. 70 stories Email: chrissiebentley@yahoo.com Add this author to your favorite author list Add this story to your favorite story list Send this story to me through email Recommend stories for further reading

Give your opinion about this part: (You can vote for each part separately) select here 1 (terrible) 2 .. 3 .. 4 .. 5 (reasonable) 6 .. 7 .. 8 .. 9 .. 10 (excellent)

Send feedback to this author: Your name: Your message to Chrissie Bentley:     (You are not logged in, so you can't send private messages) Public: post this message in the public feedback below