First Time For All Things

She could remember every step they took together. The first kiss, the first touches, the first time he slipped his hand under her shirt. His tentative fingers, moving haltingly at first. Then, after feeling the heat of her skin, he was emboldened. He went right for the front clasp of her bra, deftly flicking it aside. If she tried, she could still remember the slight tremble in his fingertips as he slid them over her soft nipples, there, in the dark, on her parent's couch.

She could feel the first time his hand slid into her pants. He didn't even hesitate, now an old pro, feeling her ripe wetness with his first two fingers. They laid in her basement, on the old musty sofa bed, holding on to each other. She could remember the sensations being overwhelming, but still wondering, at the end, if she had an orgasm.

His cock remained a mystery to her, until he grabbed her hand one night, in the back of his old car. He led her hand over it's hard length, but she couldn't look. Some how seeing it, made her feel shy. She just focused on pleasing him, without having to look. He didn't object to getting hand jobs. At first, her arm would tire, but she kept going until he finished, creaming warm and sticky in her hand.

Looking at him, looking at his cock, that would come later, when she would attempt her first blow job. She kept her eyes pinched closed as she opened her mouth tentatively, first tasting him, feeling his soft head against her tongue. There in her bedroom, while her parents watched television downstairs. She willed herself to open her eyes, she saw it up close, the slightly purple color, and melded that with the sensation of him in her mouth.

She slid her mouth down his shaft, feeling the skin, rippled with veins. Still not sure of what to do, she mimicked what she had seen. He moaned every time she let his cock slide all the way to the back of her throat. Trying not to gag, she kept sucking, stopping only occasionally to lick around his head, or to look up at him to see if she was doing it right. He never looked at her, just up at the ceiling, digging his head back into the pillow. She wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, like she had seen before, and jerked him slowly as she sucked him.

His cock seemed to grow, getting thicker with her movements. Her jaw hurt a little, but she kept going, seeing how much he was enjoying it. Soon, his hands grabbed her shoulders, and one slipped up to the back of her head. He pushed her head down gently, pushing the head of his dick deeper and deeper. She braced herself as she felt his cock sputter in her mouth, hot come kept trapped by her lips. Not knowing what else to do, she swallowed it, somewhat reluctantly.

When it came time for her to experience oral sex, she was nervous. Having someone that close to her, it felt so intimate. But, he was persistent by this point, and she agreed. In his drafty basement, on an old futon. The first time, she was so keyed up, she couldn't relax, and despite his continued efforts, she made him stop. He never gave up. He never wasted an opportunity to go down on her, trying to give her pleasure.

She remembered the first time he succeeded, very well. Alone in his parents house, she was stretched out half naked on his twin bed. They had been making out for hours. He kissed down her body, and when he came to her pussy, he paused. She waited, tense, until she felt his fingers graze across her. He looped his arm around her leg, and pushed one finger inside her, sweeping his tongue over her clit gently. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm wet between her legs increase. Moving her hips in a circle, she led his tongue where it felt the best. She had resisted doing this before, not wanting to seem like a slut. But, at that moment, she didn't care. She pressed forward, making him apply more pressure. Her legs spread wide, she felt the scratchy texture of his sheets rubbing against her ass.

She could hear the real world outside, and closed her eyes on it, forcing her mind elsewhere. She conjured every dirty thought she could to her mind. She pulled up scenes from the first porno movie she had seen, the one that lived in the dust under her brother's bed. Sneaking peeks while no one was home, she would sit so she could keep watch out the front window, in case her parent's came home unexpectedly. Watching those scenes, now in her mind, she felt heat flood her body, small sounds escaping her lips without her control. He increased his pace with his tongue and finger, and she felt his other hand reach for her's, squeezing it tightly.

Breathing heavily, her body started to move without her, her thighs tightening around his head, her hand crushing his, as her pleasure flooded her in waves. Heat was pulsing and tingling through her, her hips pushing into him, not wanting any ounce of sensation to escape her. Crying out into the silence of the room, her eyes flew open, and looked down at him, the picture of concentration and determination. When she finally stopped moving, he looked up at her and smiled, a man vindicated.

After that day, they would sneak chances to repeat it any way they could. They would do it inside, outside, in every stolen moment they were together. It became a ritual, pleasuring one another. She had become so comfortable with it, that she didn't mind the intimacy anymore. She craved his mouth on her, craved the loss of control. The pleasure he could give her was almost as good as what she gave herself. They knew each other well.

There was only one other first that they would share. The first time they went all the way. Made love. Fucked. That day had burned an impression on her brain, a mark that would never go away. Her first time, with anyone. With him. It was not his first time, not even his second or third. She was almost glad of that fact. It seemed to ease the pressure somehow. Let her off the hook. All her friends told her that she would never enjoy it, never have much pleasure from it. It would probably hurt. So, she never expected it to be anything more than an exercise in growing up. A rite of passage.

That day, the day they chose to do it, they met for dinner. The tension in the air, the weight of expectation hung around them. So much so, that she was sure everyone could tell where their night would lead. There was a sign above their head that read, These two are going to have sex later. Somehow, they made it through the food, and on to the movie. The movie they never watched, but instead spent almost every minute of it making out, hands roaming in the dark corner of the back row.

When it was finally over, it was back to his house, deserted by his parents for an evening out. He led her upstairs, with much more solemnity than usual, almost like a walk to the guillotine. He lit a few candles, and then sat next to her on the bed. They picked up their kissing, nimble tongues going over the same, well-worn paths. Months of kissing had forged the pattern. His shirt came off first, tossed aside into the constant pile of dirty laundry on his floor.

He laid her down, reaching under her shirt in that familiar, innocent way. It took her back to pleasant memories of their early days, his soft hands feeling her chest rise and fall. Their clothes shed slowly, taking their time like they usually did. Nothing seemed different, except the end result of their evening. All the other details hit her brain the same way. Felt the same. Even the room smelled the same as it had all those times before, a mix between pine and Downy.

His tongue found her pussy the same as always, her thighs giving a slight tremble, showing her nerves. She let her hand run through his hair, encouraging him, staying in touch with him. Her body responded, her hips rotated in their slow dizzy circle. She could feel this feeling forever. That tension, her body like a warm coiled spring. His warm lips and breath on her pussy. It was the closest she had ever felt to him. Her body was getting anxious, moving closer, riding against his face harder.

He pulled away, wiping her wetness off of his face with a nearby towel. He climbed up her body, reaching past her head to the night table for the condom he had waiting there. He had trouble with it, trying to get it to roll down. Once he had, he looked at her one last time before there was no turning back, asking if she was sure. It was the first time in a long time she saw him timid, almost scared. Suddenly, his position over her was awkward.

Her quiet reply of yes hung in the air, as his cock rested between her legs, waiting, nudging. His first attempts to enter her didn't quite work, despite his efforts to guide himself inside. He took a long deep breath in and out. He kissed her hard on the lips, and she felt him push into her, slowly at first.

It was then she felt the first twinge of pain. The stretching sensation caused her to shift under him, trying to hide the discomfort on her face. For a brief moment, she just wanted him to hurry up, get it over with. But, he waited. She felt her discomfort subside and he looked at her expectantly before he continued. After nodding her approval, he moved further inside her, letting her get used to him being there before he moved on. Before long, he was to the hilt. She felt the width, length, every bit of him.

Before she even had the chance to notice, he was moving over her, pushing inside of her with small strokes. At first, she felt the tug, and the pain with each tiny thrust. But, after a few minutes, her mind was registering the full feeling of him inside her body. The rubbing of his pelvis against her sensitive clit. He pulled her legs around his back, and she clamped them tight around him. He slid slightly deeper, causing a gasp to escape her mouth. She didn't know if she had made another sound, her body so focused on the new thing it was doing. It started to feel good.

He was patient. He moved slowly, despite his obvious urge to plow into her faster to satisfy himself. He seemed a man on a mission. Her mind couldn't focus on any thoughts, couldn't give herself an image to titillate or arouse. All she could do was feel. Her hips started to push up against his, her body moving like it always did. But, somehow, it felt different. Like a part of her pleasure was trapped inside, and she had to get it out. His mouth found her neck, nibbling slightly as she heard his quiet grunts in her ear.

It was at that moment she wished for music, or some other noise to fill the room, as it was soon occupied only by their guttural moans, and their bodies, skin moving together and pulling apart. He swirled his hips around, moving his pelvis over her clit like his tongue would have. She bit into his shoulder, reveling in the new sensation, the ease of his motion. Every time he moved to pull their bodies apart, she tried to keep him inside her just a few seconds more. After teasing a little more, he started moving more quickly. She found herself getting caught up in his rhythm, allowing herself to be truly fucked by him, losing herself in his power.

She was close. She could tell by now, how her body felt right before. Like her skin was on fire, each inch covered in electrical sparks. Her muscles tight, like she was a snake ready to pounce. His hips were hitting her faster, his body rigid above her. She felt the sweat that covered both of them, a warm mixture sealing them together. He looked down at her, right into her eyes. She held his gaze for a beat, before it all became too much. It overwhelmed her. Her mind and body had enough. She couldn't hold on anymore.

Her eyes shut tight, as her body uncoiled, her thighs grabbing his body and keeping him close. She dug into his neck with her fingers, gasping and shuddering, as her body was throwing pleasure out in every direction. It had taken her by surprise, the fury with which she came, the power their bodies had together. Her friends had been wrong, her pleasure found her as it always had.

As she was finishing, she felt his forehead pressed into hers. He moaned above her, his cock twitching violently inside her, as he came. His muscles went slack. His body laid heavy over her, gasping breath muffled by the pillow under her head. Her eyes scanned the room, to see if anything had changed. Somehow it felt like everything should be different. Not just her, not just them. But, everything stood as it did before. He slowly rolled off her, disposing of the condom, before coming to lay beside her. By the time his parents returned, they were watching television as they always had before.

It wasn't long after, that they went their separate ways. She would go on to have firsts with other people, but no other time would be the same. He was her first. Her first of all things.