This story is not intended for anyone under the age of 18. Part of this story is based on true events in my life. I have not mentioned any names to protect those involved. The rest is fictitious. The whole story is the property of and copyrighted by the author.
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I remember my first kiss well....
It was a steamy spring afternoon and the auditorium was muggy, despite all of the doors being opened. Rehearsals for the spring play had just ended and I was sitting on the stage on the couch that was part of the set, waiting for a ride home. You had offered to drive me home in your truck, but my mother was already on her way and there was no way to tell her not to come.
You sat next to me, having decided to wait with me so I wouldn't be alone. We sit and talk about the play, about our classes and the teachers we had. We became friends in the ninth grade, when your family had moved into the area. You were the first boy who was truly my friend. You never teased me to hurt me, but rather as a friend to make me blush or laugh.
I was laughing at your jokes when you suddenly stopped and looked at me in a way you hadn't before. I stopped laughing as you leaned over and kissed me. It was a soft brushing of skin to skin. I didn't resist and you kissed me again, your tongue flicking out over your lips then mine. I sighed and you put your arms around me and we kissed some more.
Soon my mouth parted and your tongue snaked in and ran along mine. I could feel my body reacting, slightly afraid - I'd never kissed anyone before. I reached up a hand and ran it through your sandy blonde hair. We shifted and the kiss deepened.
I could feel myself grow wet as your hand reached down and rubbed along my breast, teasing the nipple through my blouse and bra. I was no stranger to my body - I'd been masturbating since I was thirteen. I knew I was getting turned on by your hands and mouth, the same feelings that would run through my body during a sexy scene in an R rated movie or one of the many 'bodice ripper' novels I had read over the years, were running intensely through me now.
You pulled back and looked at me intently before carefully removing my glasses and setting them on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Your hands traced my face before you touched my mouth with your fingers. I licked at them and you stuck one in. I suckled your finger and the look on your face made me realized I'd done the right thing.
Your other hand reached out for mine and brought it to your thigh. I rubbed the denim of your jeans for a few moments, still sucking away. Your hand moved my hand up your thigh, leading it closer to your body. I boldly reached out and cupped your cock through the jeans. The material was hot, as if you had a fever. Your penis was throbbing under my hand and you groaned.
The finger was gone and you kissed me again, your tongue replacing your finger. I happily sucked on it as I rubbed you. Your hands pulled my blouse out from my skirt and ran along my skin to my bra. I moaned into your mouth and you reached under the bra and began to pinch and play with my nipples.
The honking horn from outside tore us apart faster than if someone had walked into the auditorium and caught us fondling each other. I grabbed my glasses and put them on before tucking my blouse into my skirt. You were already off the sofa and holding your gym bag in front of your hips. I grabbed my bookbag and stood.
Our eyes locked. It was the beginning of something new for both of us. Your free hand took mine and we walked off the stage and up the aisle to the doors. My mother's dark green VW Beetle was parked out front. You squeezed my hand before letting go. Waving at my mother, you quickly walked off somehow managing to keep your erection from my mother's view.
That was my first kiss.
Years later I still remember that moment. And the few moments we had over the next two years - never going beyond kissing and fondling. We were better as friends, despite how hot we felt with each other.
You went on to work in the video game industry, and I work in customer service for a small communications company. I only know of what you are doing because of the class reunion newsletter. I hadn't gone to our ten-year reunion - the only person I wanted to see was you, but I was married at the time. It didn't seem right. I wanted to know if the chemistry we had was still there.
Now I'm divorced and living alone. Sometimes I think about you and my body tightens with the memory. My hand drifts along my body as I lay naked in my bed, late at night, as I fantasize about what it would have been like if I'd given into you completely, rather than saving myself for marriage.
As my hands caress my breasts slowly, I imagine you coming to the bed and standing next to it, watching me. You're wearing a pair of faded button fly denims with the first two buttons undone. I can tell that you're not wearing underwear and my breath catches in my throat.
"Pinch your nipples," you softly command and I do, gasping at the feel.
My hands rub and pinch them until they are hard pebbles. You watch as my hips flex in tiny circles. You reach over and cup my mound with your hand, the heel brushing against my engorged clit and I moan as my hips jerk. You chuckle and rub against it for a brief moment as your finger rims my soaking entrance. My legs spread open for you as you dip your finger inside me, teasing me as my hands work my breasts and nipples until they are bright red.
