"Can we talk? I want to get something off my chest."
"Sure," I said.
It was 3 a.m. and Martha and I were in my bed. Before we'd fallen asleep, we'd exchanged confidences about the results of our miscarried drinking the previous Saturday night, after a bluegrass concert she'd been part of at a local bar. I was in the audience because I'd met her two weeks before and we'd become lovers. After the performance, I'd gotten roaring drunk and didn't remember much about what happened from then on.
So for the next three hours Martha told me the story.
*
Around dawn, I woke up in my dorm room. I didn't remember how I got there. I had a real headache, but it was my mouth that was the worst. I sorta remembered throwing up on way home, but otherwise — who knew?
I needed to pee. And clean my mouth. A shower seemed like a good idea too. I didn't remember getting out of my clothes, and I had my bra and panties on, which didn't make a lot of sense. Anyway, I stripped, put on my robe, and grabbed my toiletries and a towel, and headed for the showers.
My shirt and jeans were hanging over one of the shower rods. I didn't remember putting them there.
The shower was refreshing, I brushed my teeth, and I was glad nothing worse had happened. In the shower it started coming back to me slowly, in bits and pieces.
The show had been great! The audience was into it, we were all stoked. Afterwards, the place cleared out and the waitress brought a round of beers. We sang and sang, everything we knew.
There was this guy been sitting with you, you introduced him as Paul. He had a good voice and he knew the songs. Charlie ordered tequila and we toasted the show. Later, you ordered another round of tequila, made a big-deal toast, and we chugged it down.
I must have gotten really wrecked. Somehow I got back to my room — why not your place, like I'd expected?
Anyway, I doubted I had gotten home unassisted. Who?
I was looking around the room when I noticed the second bed, where I dump my stuff, had something, or somebody, in it.
I looked closer. It was Paul. His face was so sweet, so young. He didn't look like he'd started shaving.
I stared at him for a while. Slowly, this naughty feeling came over me and I pulled my pillow over and knelt beside him. Ever-so-gently I slipped the sheet off and discovered he had these Daffy Duck boxers on. AND a morning woodie. Now I felt really naughty.
It must have taken me ten minutes, but I maneuvered the slot in his boxers so that his woodie came out.
I loved his voice. He knew every song we'd sung, and a lot more. And he was cute. I started by licking him. It got harder and I licked some more, and finally I took the head in my mouth and was rimming it when he jumped.
"Wha — who — where — oh god, omigod!" and he tried to sit up.
I popped off and pushed him back onto the bed.
"Be still, you'll enjoy this."
I'd thought I'd go slow, but once he was awake it seemed pointless, so I moved in for the kill.
He tensed up, so I knew he was close. "Watch out, I'm gonna cum, take it out, I don't want — oh god, it's close, watch out, oooooh goddddd!"
I swallowed everything, then did a victory lap around the head and snuggled up to his face. "Kiss me," I said, and he did. He seemed startled, but he kept his lips locked on mine.
When he came back to earth, I grabbed his hand and stood up. "C'mon," I said, and walked us the three steps backward to my bed.
I shrugged off my bathrobe, so now there with nothing between us but his Daffy Ducks. I sat down on the bed and pulled his ass to me. "Let's get these off."
"Uh, oh, okay."
After I'd gotten them down, I looked up and saw he had put his hand over his crotch. "Omigod," it dawned on me, "he's never done this before!"
Michael and I had laughed about how awkward our first time was. He wished he'd been more romantic, candles and soft music, so that my first time was really special. But I told him it was him, not anything else, that I wanted, and I meant it.
Now I was going to be someone's first time and I could make it special. I'd already gotten his attention, so I figured, let's do it the right way.
He clearly needed some encouragement. I stood up, took his hands, and put them on my breasts. "These are for you to play with."
He had that "deer in the headlights" look, so I moved his hands around and moaned. Slowly, he got into it. "Now kiss this," I said, cupping my left one. "Now suck it, use your tongue, a little pressure with your teeth, a little more, oh god yes that is soooo good. Now pinch the other one."
When he pulled off, to catch his breath, I decided to move him along.
"Come with me," and I hopped us onto the bed. We knelt, facing each other. I reached for his cock and started stroking.
"No! No! I can't! Stop!"
"Why? What's wrong?" Had I moved too fast?
"I don't have a condom, it's not right."
"Paul, you've never done this, therefore you can't have a disease, right?"
"Yes, but you —"
"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill." He looked panic-stricken, and he started to pull away.
"Hey, wait! I can prove it!" He looked at me blankly.
I jumped up and grabbed the STD report out of my desk. "Here, read this, check out the date." I handed him the paper and got back on the bed.
By now his cock had deflated and I figured we were done. He read it, then looked at me meekly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply —"
"No, you were right, you did the right thing."
"I've wrecked everything! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll go now." His eyes were darting around the room, looking for his clothes. He had one foot on the floor when I took the report and tossed it toward my desk.
"Stay, please. Let's finish what we started, now that we have trust." I reached for his cock and stroked down over his cockhead.
We started all over. I got his hands on my breasts again and started moaning. "Oh god that is soooo gooood," I encouraged him as he played with them. I was stroking his cock and it was getting hard again.
"They're so soft, so warm," and he kissed first one and then the other.
When I had him hard enough, I looked him in the eye. "Paul, we're going to make love. You showed me something that I admire, that you care about someone other than yourself."
He was trembling, but he kept his hands on my breasts.
"Lay with me, Paul." I said, and I slid onto my side, giving him room on the bed. When he didn't move, I smiled and nodded to the space next to me. Finally he lay down, but far enough away that he wasn't touching me.
"Closer," I whispered, and when he got there I felt his cock up against my leg. I smelled his sweat. He was virtually hairless, just the bush around his cock.
"You have a very nice cock." I reached out and ran my finger across the cockhead and felt the precum. He groaned and his eyes were saucer-sized.
"I want you, now," using my best come-hither low voice.
He turned his face away from me. 'I-I-I haven't, I mean —"
"Shhh, shhh, this will be perfect."
I opened my thighs and pressed my leg hard against his. He didn't move at first, but finally he lifted his leg over mine. "Both," I whispered, and he lifted up and got between them. Then he sat back on his heels.
