He was eighteen years old and already more man than a lot of men
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Note: All characters are 18+ years old
I glanced up and caught my reflection in the large window as I entered my apartment building; the image reflected was of a young, attractive, sexually inquisitive twenty-five years old woman. Physically I have a warm, olive completion, long brownish-red wavy hair, full luscious lips, wide set brown eyes, long, thick eyelashes. At 5' 4", 115 lbs., 36B breasts with large, sensitive dark nipples, small waist, womanly hips, firm ass, and a soft hairless pubic mound, accentuated by a small delicate gold labia piercing.
My name is Zoe. I'm what people think of as the girl next door type; blessed with great parents, a thoughtful and slightly overprotective big brother, good friends, a lovely apartment, and a fantastic job as a kindergarten teacher.
Though I wouldn't call myself overly extroverted, I do enjoy being with people, and it makes me happy to know that people enjoy being with me and especially that men find me attractive and desirable. Maybe it's that safe, vulnerable "girl next door thing" that attracts them sexually. For example, Mr. Masterson, the middle-aged security person at the front door, who always gives me a fatherly smile and says, "Hello, Miss Zoe," probably doesn't realize that I see the way he stares at my nipples when I walk past him and that I'm quite flattered by the rather large erection that he always seems to have when we speak each evening.
*****
Well, I guess it's that enjoyment of people and friendliness that led to my involvement with Frank Kendricks.
I had just turned twenty-five a week earlier, and a few friends threw a belated birthday gathering at Mikey's Bar and Grill, where I met Frank Kendricks, a friend of my brother Paul. Paul was twenty, and his friend Frank was eighteen. I had never met Frank; he and Paul had become friends while I was away at college. Frank seemed like a nice guy, after all, he was Paul's friend, and that was an important endorsement right there.
Because they were under twenty-one, of course, they couldn't drink legally, but as things would have it, both of them had fake ids that had gotten them into the bar, and by 11p, they were both a little toasty. Frank had been checking me out since I had gotten there, and leaving Paul at a table on the other side of the bar, Frank came over, introduced himself again and asked me to dance. It was a slow song, one of my favorites and as we danced, I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my head on his shoulder, our bodies pressed together. When the dance ended, we separated and I went back to my table to join my friends. Within a few minutes, there was a shot placed in front of me from "the guy at the bar." A half an hour later, there was another birthday shot that I managed to down even though I was already on my way to being clearly under the influence.
As I sat there, nodding and talking with my friends, I saw Frank a few tables away and smiled. Frank was a very nice looking boy. Tall, athletic, broad-shouldered, hard bodied, maybe 165 lbs., dark brown curly hair that he wore cut just above his collar. Hazel eyes, wide toothy smile, with full, sensual lips (maybe a touch of African-American in his DNA?), and a deep masculine cleft in his chin.
Another slow song began to play, and almost immediately, Frank was there, "would you like to dance, Zoe?" he asked, extending his hand.
"Oh, wow," I said, "I'm a little wobbly."
"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," he said with a broad grin.
With his hand on my waist, he guided me toward a dark corner of the dance floor. Holding me close, we began to dance, actually we began to grind against each other. As soon as he pulled me into his arms, I could tell that he had a growing erection in his pants, and as we danced, it grew longer and harder. I could feel his large, warm hand through the thin fabric of my skirt, slip down to my ass. He was pressing me closer to him, and I could feel myself becoming hotter and wetter. Lost in the music, I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his shoulder enjoying the feel of his body against mine. The alcohol, his nearness, before I realized what was happening, his hand had made its way under my skirt and inside the crotch of my panties where he was slowly rubbing my clit, almost in time with the music. I must have moaned and then gasped when he inserted his finger inside me.
I didn't pull away; instead I held him tighter.
"Oh, Frank . . . ummmmmm, you shouldn't do that . . . Frank." I mumbled against his ear.
I must have shivered a little when he pulled his finger out and then quickly pushed two inside me and began stroking them in and out while continuing to rub my clit with the heel of his hand. Just as the song ended, I remember clinging to him and whorishly cumming in his hand. A new song started, and we stood together with him, holding me around my waist supporting me. When I had pulled myself together, he kissed me hard on the mouth and said, "Happy Birthday" before he walked me back to my table.
*****
Because I had to get up and catch a flight early the next morning, I must have said my goodbyes and headed back to my parent's house around 12:30a. I didn't see Frank again, but now and then, when I would talk to my brother Paul, he would tell me that Frank had said to tell me Hello or that Frank had asked about me. Though I knew I had been a little intoxicated on my birthday and had perhaps acted a little slutty, I thought Frank was a nice guy, and I was flattered that I had aroused the interest of a "younger man" enough that he would ask about me.
As time went on, the memory of that birthday and meeting Frank faded until I returned home after graduating from University with a degree in early education almost six months later. After being at home for a few weeks, I found the perfect job as a kindergarten teacher at the elementary school in the neighborhood where I had been looking for an apartment. As luck would have it, I eventually found a lovely apartment within walking distance of the school.
Since returning home, I had spent most of my free time getting used to living alone for the first time, setting up my apartment, and re-establishing friendships. One afternoon my phone began to ring, and when I answered, I was surprised when the caller identified showed Frank Kendricks (Paul's Friend).
We went to dinner and afterward went back to my apartment for a drink. I hadn't talked and laughed with anyone so much in a very long time, and after a couple of drinks and a lot of flirting, Frank leaned over and kissed me. I looked up at him and thought how handsome he was and wondered what it would feel like to have sex with him. We kissed again and began exploring each other's bodies. I loved the way his hands felt on me, the way my clit would throb when he unbuttoned my blouse and covered the white mounds of my breast, sucked my nipples, and licking the darkened areolas sending waves of electric heat to my clit. I ran my fingers through his hair as he sucked and kissed my tits, my legs spreading wide apart as his hand went downward and played with my pussy.
I was sopping wet and had been sitting next to him on the sofa, rubbing my thigh against his engorged cock. I moaned and looked up at him with glassy, needy eyes. It had been a while since I had had sex, having broken up with my ex months earlier. God, I needed to feel a hard cock inside me and so when Frank whispered, "let's go to your bedroom," I nodded and taking his hand led him to my room. He made love to me that night.
I slept with Frank three or four times after that. All I can say is that even though I was five years his senior, in my limited experience, I had never been with a man who could fuck the way Frank could. After being with him, for days afterward, I'd think about him, daydream, and have wet dreams about him until the next time we were together.
I swear, unless you're a woman, you have no idea what it's like to wake in the morning, with an ultra-sensitive clit, swollen pussy lips and that tell-tell stickiness between your legs . . . feeling like you've had sex. But as you lie there, you realize that you've been dreaming and masturbating during the night. This is what I experienced several times after meeting and sleeping with Frank. This kid was that good and that memorable in bed.
*****
I quickly learned, however, that though he was an excellent lover, Frank could be jealousy and controlling. I saw what we had as a friendship, even a casual sexual relationship but not as a serious romantic one. Frank saw it entirely differently. His continually calling and texting, coming by the apartment unannounced, becoming upset and angry if he thought I had been out with someone, was a bit more than I wanted to deal with. In just the few weeks that we had seen each other, I had begun to feel as though Frank was suffocating me. I tried to explain how I felt and that I didn't think this was going to work before I finally stopped taking his calls and texts and asked my brother Paul to talk to him and tell him to leave me alone and to stay away from me. After that, the unwanted attention stopped and I foolishly assumed he had met some else and gone his separate way.
Time passed quickly, and before I realized it, it was time for school to let out for the summer. Toward the end of June, my friend Pammie invited me to come and stay with her at her parent's home for the 4th of July holiday weekend. Of course, I said yes, and I looked forward to a fun weekend of partying, sun and lounging by their pool. Pammie's folks had planned for an afternoon pool party with about fifty guests, and though I didn't know most of the people, there were a few people that both Pammie and I knew from college and growing up here in the area.
