Erotic Fiction by Medea

Tomorrow

	I was fifteen the first time I had sex.  I'd been dating Dan since 
Christmas, but we were friends longer than that.  We met at a summer 
Shakespeare workshop, this six-week-long thing where we spent all day learning 
and rehearsing, and then performed at the community center at the end.  We 
were doing Macbeth, so of course I wanted to be Lady Macbeth, but instead 
ended up as one of the witches.  It was a fun part, all the same.  Dan was in 
charge of the sound crew, and sometime during dress rehearsals we started 
doing stuff in the evenings, after the workshop was over for the day.
	We continued to hang out a lot after it ended, going to movies, 
talking on the phone about homework and the crazy teachers at our different 
schools, but he was just this cool guy I spent time with, nothing romantic.  
And then Christmas vacation, we were sitting on the couch in his parent's 
basement, watching TV, and all of a sudden he leaned over and kissed me.  I 
was in shock, I had no idea he liked me that way.  It all clicked, though, and 
so after that, we were dating.
	In February he turned sixteen, and his parents gave him keys to the 
old beater of a car they'd been holding onto for him.  Suddenly we had a lot 
more privacy on dates, if we wanted it.  We took advantage of this, of course, 
to drive to the woods just outside of town and make out in the back seat.  One 
Sunday night in March, we were kissing and groping and trying to make the most 
of the hour left until curfew.  A bit of early spring weather made it warm 
enough without the car's heater to take off more clothes than usual, and we 
were so into it, so turned on, that groping led to more, and we had sex for 
the first time.
	The next day, I had to get up and go to school, but I couldn't focus 
on anything other than the night before.  The experience followed me around 
all day.  When I dressed for school, I thought about the way he had touched 
me, when I looked into the mirror, I wondered if anyone could see the 
difference.  I certainly felt changed, and I kept having to repress the urge 
to dance around and sing.
	I daydreamed my way through all of the morning classes, remembering 
each moment, the thick feeling of pleasure still filling my body.  I recalled 
lying against the side wall of the car, skirt up around my waist, him with his 
hand between my legs, kissing me.  His hard cock, half-constrained by his 
shorts, pressed against my thigh.  I let him slide my underwear off, making me 
more accessible to his touch.  Then I released his cock from his clothes, and 
stroked him, looking with lust into his eyes.  "I want to be inside you," he 
said, fumbling a condom out of his pocket.  I nodded, eager to feel it, eager 
to take this last step.
	We switched around, and he sat slouching back on the seat, pulling his 
shorts off and awkwardly trying to roll the condom on.  When he was ready, I 
straddled him, and tried to lower myself down, but his cock kept slipping out 
of place.  Finally he managed to hold it at the right angle, and the tip slid 
inside me.  Biting my lip, hoping it wouldn't hurt, I pushed down, feeling him 
stretch me open.  It didn't hurt at all, though, it felt incredible, and soon 
we were fucking faster, gasping for air and steaming up the car windows, and 
oh, it was so good.
	Then the bell rang, bringing me out of my memories and back to the 
classroom.  At lunch, Marissa, who had been my best friend since third grade, 
picked up immediately that something had happened and wouldn't leave me alone 
until she knew the details.  "Out with it Jess," she said.  "What're you so 
thrilled about?"  I just kind of blushed and grinned, not sure what to say.  
"Did you and Dan...?  Oh, I bet that's it.  No wonder."  I nodded, almost 
embarrassed.  "Was it good?  How was he?"
	"It was... I don't even know what to tell you.  It was great."
	"Lucky girl.  Much better than the 'take her and leave her' act that 
Andy pulled with me, I'm sure."
	Marissa was still a little bitter about her first time.  Her now 
ex-boyfriend Andy not only ditched her a week later, but then she found out 
that he'd told a highly exaggerated version of events to his friends.  I was 
definitely glad that nothing so humiliating had happened to me.
	The rest of the day continued at the same level of distraction, and 
after school I rushed home to call Dan.  We talked and talked for hours, until 
our parents got home, and made a date for Friday, which seemed the soonest we 
could get away with staying out late again.  We met at least once a week after 
that, to repeat that first Sunday in the car.  I loved sex, I discovered, and 
while my schoolwork probably suffered, those weeks and nights were magical for 
me, making me feel alive and sexy in a way I couldn't have even imagined 
before.
	It ended eventually, of course.  In June I discovered that the reason 
he had been avoiding me lately was because he had started seeing some girl 
from his school.  I was devastated, and we had a melodramatic break-up 
involving angry phone calls where I would yell and cry, not understanding how 
he could leave me, while he tried to give me comfort I didn't want, saying it 
wasn't my fault, there was just this other person, and he hoped we could be 
friends again someday.
	Eventually I got over it, though, and moved on.  After things settled 
down, I was able to look upon our relationship more fondly, for the enjoyable 
experience that it was.  Now when I think back, I'm reminded of Macbeth's 
soliloquy about the passing of time:
	To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
      	Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
      	To the last syllable of recorded time,
      	And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
      	The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
      	Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
      	That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
      	And then is heard no more: it is a tale
      	Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
      	Signifying nothing.
And somehow, that makes me smile.