It was probably fifteen minutes later when I woke. She was still in the crook of my arm, snoring softly.
It had been her first time, a choice she'd made even as she pined for the boy-next-door back in Arkansas who had no clue how she felt about him. Now she was here, in a summer academic program more than a thousand miles away, trying to balance that yearning against an urgent sexual need for somebody she barely knew.
Me.
She stirred, looked around, then remembered where she was and why she was here.
"We did it, didn't we?" she perked.
"And did it well," I said, kissing her. Jen grinned and kissed me back.
"And now," I said, stretching, "it's on with the rest of our lives. Which means we hit the bathroom."
I stood and offered my hand. She took it and swung herself upright. As I flipped the bedroom door open, she glanced back and saw the bloody spot on the sheet.
"Me?"
"
Us
, lover,
us
. You could've done it without me, but you didn't. C'mon, let's pee." I stood at the toilet and loosed a stream, then grabbed a washcloth, ran it through the warm water, and knelt before her.
"What, wha—" she stammered as I reached to wipe her off.
"Cleanup. Didn't you feel this trickling down your leg as you walked in here?" I caught the cum that had dribbled to her knee with my middle finger and extended it to her. She looked first at it, then down, and her ears turned red.
"God I love this sight," I said as I drew a figure 8 on her belly with the cum. I swabbed each leg and into her bush. "It's the sign of a great fuck."
"That's the word you like to use?"
"Yes. Overuse's made it coarse, but there's nothing more direct. I think the others are just euphemisms. You have any preferences?"
"I've always thought about Jake and me 'making love.' Would that be okay?"
"Sure," and I stood and rinsed the cloth. "Now me." She started in on my cock.
"There's, uh, some blood on your, uh, penis," she blushed.
"Proves I participated back there, right?" She giggled, then rinsed the cloth and hung it over the shower rod.
"You need to pee?"
"Oh, well, uh, yeah, but, uh . . . ," she stammered.
"Okay, go to it, I'll go get the sheet." When I came back, the door was closed. I knocked. "Who is it?" said a high-pitched, comedic voice.
"Naked inspector."
She had actually locked the door, but opened it just enough to peek out. "Oh my, you are naked, inspector."
I laughed and she threw open the door. "And so are you, and you're beautiful." She grinned shyly, so I kissed her and she kissed me back.
I ran cold water on the bloody spot, then knuckle-scrubbed the blood and cum until I got the sheet as clean as it was going to get. It joined the washcloth.
We walked back to the bedroom hand-in-hand and re-made the bed with a fresh bottom sheet. When we were done, I led her to my desk and handed her the tall candle, which had burned halfway down.
"Our first time is done, we're moving on," I intoned. "With this candle we will light¬¬ a larger one." I led her to my dresser, where the big stubby was. "This candle represents the next stage.
"The first time leads to the second time, and all the times to follow." Jen lit the wick of the bigger candle.
"We've started on the journey, so extinguish our first candle." She held her index finger in front of the flame and blew softly. The flame instantly disappeared.
"What was that?" I asked, amazed.
"Dad doesn't like wax all over the place when you blow out a candle. He taught me how to blow out a flame without splattering the wax. Neat, eh?"
We slipped into bed.
"That was wonderful, Jen. You know that, right?"
"Oh Carl, I have so many questions. Do you mind?"
"No, I love it. Shoot."
"Okay. First of all, I didn't feel you breaking my hymen. There must have been one, I saw the blood, but I didn't feel it. What happened?"
"One of the reasons I went down on you — I mean, aside from the fact that I wanted to eat you — is that, when you're having an orgasm, you're so overwhelmed that anything additional don't register."
"Sensory overload," she said.
"Right. So when I pushed into you, you didn't feel it in anything like the way you would have if it was a separate experience. You weren't all tense and anxious, it just happened. And, I must say," I grinned, self-congratulatorially, "I got the timing pretty good."
"Oh, yeah, I didn't feel any pain, that's for sure. It's just that, all of a sudden, you were there. Wow, pretty smart," and she kissed me.
"Do you do that with all your virgin girlfriends?"
"Foreplay is important," I said. "Whether it's your first time or thousandeth time, first-time lovers are anxious about what will happen. 'Will she think I'm any good?' 'Does he think I'm easy?'
"For a girl, there's additional stress, the anticipation of pain. Doing it this way, you weren't tensed up, so it went easily. When you finished your orgasm, there I was, and you were ready for your first fuck.
"In fact," now I was in full pontificating mode, but I was sincere, "I don't like to cum until after you've cum. When we both know what we're doing with each other, we work together to make each other cum. It's heaven that way."
"But I didn't have any idea what I was doing."
"How could you? That's why everybody's first time has to be gotten out of the way. Once I was in you, then we worked together to get you a second orgasm and a first one for me. God, it was glorious," and we kissed again.
"You use the word 'cum.' That's 'ejaculate,' right?"
"Well, when either one of us has an orgasm, we 'come,' c-o-m-e. For boys, the physical stuff, sperm and semen, is 'cum.' I deposit my cum in you, 'c-u-m.' But when I get excited, it's all the same. Personally, I use 'cum' as a noun and a verb."
"Pedant."
"And proud of it," I smirked.
"And 'fuck'?"
"Well, leaving aside its overuse as an adverb or adjective, like WTF and 'fucking idiot,' I like 'fuck' — it's just plain descriptive. There are all sorts of other ways to describe it. Like you like 'making love,' which is gauzier.
"I don't like to use it all the time. If I were trying to seduce you on the dance floor, I'd more likely say 'would you like to go back to my place and make love?' than I would 'wanna go back to my place and fuck?'
"But when we're really going at it, 'FUCK ME!' kicks my motor into overdrive. You asked if 'making love' was okay, and the answer is, yeah, sure, of course. Just don't be shy about using 'fuck' at the right time. It's a real turn on."
"What do you call your penis?"
"Huh?"
"When it slid out of me, you said something like 'good by little man.' Is that what you call it? Or do you say johnson, pecker, prick, steel rod — when you think about it, what do you call it?"
"Oh, uh, I never really thought about it. It's just my cock. Yeah, cock. Is that okay?"
"Oh sure, yeah. I just want to be on the same page with you."
"Alright," I said, "and what shall we call your pussy?"
