I was 24 when I lost my virginity to my BFF's boyfriend. She told me it was about time and that I was too hung up on meeting the perfect man and she was tired of being the only one with good stories to tell.
I mean she was right. I don't know why I waited. I wasn't afraid of it. I didn't think it was dirty or sinful. I just had these ideas in my head that there would be "the one" and I would know it.
I had dated boys in high school and college, and had plenty of fun, but always came up short (pun intended) when the moment arrived to finally open myself up completely.
"You're hot," Bree, would say, "You've got great tits. You're curvy but not ridiculous. You've got no end of boys who want that ass. When are you going to let them fuck you?"
"I don't know," I'd say, "I just always thought that I'd
know
, you know? No one feels magic?"
Bree would throw up her hands and say, "Magic! Ugh. Kill me. Tina the tease! That
pussy's
magic!"
"Tina the tease" stuck for a while. She'd call me that at parties hanging out together with one or another of her string of boyfriends that adored her. That was their fatal flaw. As soon as they fell in love, she'd be done with them. She just wasn't ready for the commitment.
But I was the tease?!
She was bossy like that, but I was into it. Not that I needed to 'break out of my shell' or whatever. I was quite comfortable ending up at home with a book rather than a boy. But following her lead often led to fun. I couldn't deny that. And I would follow her anywhere. I mean, the view!
We just had more fun hanging out together than with boys. One problem was, we loved each other enough that I don't think any man compared. The other problem was that we still loved dick.
Sure, we had played together. A little bi-curiosity never hurt anyone. It was Bree who taught me how to masturbate -- or at least not to be ashamed of it. We kissed a few times over the years, mostly to rile up the boys. And yes, sometimes, we'd get into a bit and end up in a cuddle back in our apartment at the end of the night. And maybe I'd be into a bit more than she was because, let's face it, she was a little hottie. Petite with perky breasts that never needed a fucking bra, and nipples that would rise up like pencil erasers under all her distressed tees. Then last year she got them pierced and would wear little bars in them. She loved a sheer 'fit, and having to do the "eyes up here" glance, even though everyone knew she liked throwing out the challenge like that. Then, when they inevitably looked down in embarrassment, she say "Don't look at my ass hanging out of these shorts, you little creeper."
I envied the ease she felt with her body. The tiniest bathing suits. The party outfits: a transparent bra outlined in a pink, fuzzy border. Sheer neon tights over the white thong that highlighted her bubble butt like a fucking billboard and the tiny triangle that just covered the lips of her pussy. And me next to her in a one piece swimsuit at the pool, or in an under-wire bra at the party because my girls would bounce right out without a little restraint.
I thought of myself as introverted, and she thought I was more repressed. But it wasn't shame. It just wasn't desire. My nightstand was my boyfriend. I could get off just fine with a vibrator. I enjoyed a thick dildo. And I might fantasize a little, as I looked down at my body taking that plastic dick, that it was attached to a flat stomach and muscular chest hovering over me, quivering not out of fatigue, but the pure strain of not wanting to come in me too soon.
One time, as I had myself squirming at the edge of orgasm, picturing myself biting my lip, rolling my eyes back, and giving him that little nod, I flashed on an image of Bree there stroking his shoulders and saying, "That's right. Cum for her, baby."
Fuck, that was it.
It was one of those little intrusive thoughts. Just picturing her next to me. In a way, it was like she was my naughty angel telling me it was OK to take it, that I could come now. In my fantasies I wasn't fully having sex with her but we were having sex
together
. We were encouraging each other. Bree was my slutty cheerleader and I was taking one for the team. (Or taking on the team.)
I didn't share that with her. I was afraid, maybe, that she might get worried that I was crushing on her, or making it weird. We were tight and I wasn't going to threaten that by confessing that I sometime imagined her with her boys, or her with mine. It was, after all, just a fantasy, and weren't they all implausible and private and just taboo enough to get you off?
And maybe I was even more afraid, that if I told her, she'd be into it. She did like to push my buttons (so to speak.) Like the time we were laying together at the end of the night and she'd curled up behind me. She started whispering in my ear, telling what to do with my hands to myself, then telling me to stop, then telling me to go. Like I said, she could be bossy.
Feeling her naked skin against my back, caressing my shoulders as she said, once again, "Stop."
I moaned,
"You want to come?"
I nodded.
"Why don't you? What's keeping you from coming?"
I shook my head. She knew but I couldn't bring myself to say it.
"You need to beg me? Is that it, my little tease?"
"Mm."
"Yes, then just beg me."
"P- please. Let me?"
"Oh, Tina, you can do better than that."
She had me on the edge for a long time. I was mumbling, "Please, please, please." My fingers were literally on my clit but I found I couldn't move them -- not until she said so. And when she finally did...
"That's it, my little tease. That's so good."
I think my scream might have woke the neighbors.
Afterward, Bree just cuddled with me and let me soak up the sensations. She didn't say anything more. The only other thing was she brought my hand up to her mouth and gently kissed and licked my fingers. It was heaven and I fell asleep that way.