Sorority Girl
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four
Sorority Girl - Chapter Two
"I can't forget about him," I sighed.
Susan sat on a kitchen chair in her underwear, cleaning the cleats of her soccer shoes. We were pretty casual by ourselves, especially when we were drinking. She'd had a game the other day and it had been muddy, I guess. At least she put some newspaper down to catch the mud she was prying off the soles with a butter knife. My roommate could be a little messy at times, even by college standards.
"God made a lot of boys, Jen," Susan shrugged and took a swig of beer. "No sense getting hung up on one."
"Yeah, I know." I lifted a beer of my own and took a bitter swallow. My third bottle in half an hour, sitting on the kitchen counter in a pair of shorts and nothing else, and whining like a little dick. I felt kind of pathetic.
"You still got a few days. Find a different guy," she said, looking up with a grin. "Just make sure he's a virgin."
"Ahhhh…" I made a face, waving her off. "It isn't that. I shouldn't have fucked what's-his-name, the guy at the party."
"What? Why?" Susan asked, stabbing at her shoe as if she held a chisel.
"Because, I mean I should have been with William, not at that party at all. If he finds out…"
"What? He's Mormon?" Susan looked at me.
"Huh? No! Of course not."
"Well, so what if he finds out then?" She laughed and shook her head. "You're not married anyway, Jen, and the only ones I know of who get pissed about that stuff are the Mormons."
Mormons were sort of strange, believing that women shouldn't have sex with more than one man. They were big time monogamists and their beliefs started as soon as a person hit puberty, which was right about the time everyone else was saying go out and have fun. Girls were supposed to be sexually adventurous, at least until they were married, while boys were supposed to tease and play hard to get. So far as most people were concerned, it wasn't just okay for a single girl to have sex with different men; it was encouraged…unless you were Mormon.
But knowing I had right on my side didn't make me feel any better.
"I think I love him," I sighed, taking another big swallow of beer. Cold condensation dripped off the bottle, falling on my right breast. "I don't want to lose him."
"Love?" Susan shook her head. "You just got here, frosh. Don't fall in love yet."
"What happens at the initiation?" I asked.
"You'll find out." Susan shrugged.
"No. I'm serious, girl. I need to know. Cause I don't wanna find a different guy, okay? I want the one I have," I told her truthfully. "But I'm not gonna hurt William just so I can be in some club."
"It's not a club, it's a sorority," Susan sighed and dropped her shoe on the floor. "We've got 3000 members all across the country, the world even, girls who will be your sisters, helping you meet people, get the right job, find the right house, whatever…"
"Yeah, yeah…" I nodded. I'd heard it all before. From Susan, from my mom, from everybody. "They're lawyers and bankers and used car dealers, I get it. But I love him, so…" I held up my hands, "…I gotta know."
"I can't tell you." Susan looked genuinely sad, but I think she might have been a little hostile too. I wasn't exactly embracing the Phi Kappa Beta party line or anything.
"Who can?" I challenged her and Susan hesitated. "Come on, Sue. I'm serious, okay? I won't do it if I don't know."
"You gotta ask Kylie probably. If someone can tell you, it'll be her," she shrugged. "The rest of us, we'd just get in trouble if we said anything. Trouble for us and for you, Jen."
We were quiet for awhile then, Susan going back to her shoes, and me just drinking beer and rubbing cold moisture around my breasts, remembering the way William liked to kiss them.
"Or…" Susan said suddenly, like a thought had just occurred to her.
"Or what?" I stared at the girl.
"You could always ask your mom." Susan looked at me. "The initiation hasn't changed in like fifty years or something, so…"
"It's the same thing my mom went through?" I blinked at that, mostly because I just hadn't thought about it.
"Yeah. Pretty much," she nodded. "Try it."
It was Saturday night and I'd been thinking of calling William all day, or at least since I'd woken up at noon. It had been a very long, and very drunk Friday night as I'd tried to drown my sorrows. I was still paying for it and I wondered if my hangover would ever go away. Drinking more beer probably wasn't helping, but it didn't seem to hurt either.
"…leave your message after the beep…"
"William? Hey, are you there? It's me again. Um…I'm sorry, okay? Can we talk? Call me, please." I left my third message in two hours, wondering where he was. One more and I'd get a free toaster.
"Still not there?" Susan asked, she'd put on some jeans and a t-shirt.
"Nope," I shrugged.
"Well, uh…I sort of figured you'd be going out tonight…"
"Yeah, me too."
"…so I hate to do this but…"
"But?" I narrowed my eyes at her.
"But Lance is coming over and I kinda wanna get him, you know…alone."
"Oh," I nodded. "Right."
"Hey! Take my motorcycle and go have some fun. Go up to the House and hang for awhile, that's what it's there for." Susan hated asking me to leave, but she wanted to get laid too.
"Nah. I'll walk." I waved off her keys as Susan held them out. "The exercise will do me good."
I dressed quickly, if not carelessly, pulling on some khaki trousers and a big Property of WSU sweatshirt in the school colors of gold and red. I combed my brown hair, which was starting to get a little long, just over the ears, and reminded myself to get a haircut one of these days. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go, but Susan would definitely need some time alone, probably a lot of time, so…
I wandered off campus, into the small area of stores and bars and coffee shops that constituted the local hangout. The place was already crowded, being a Saturday night in a college town. The nearest real city was some three hours away, so business was always good, even an hour past sunset. There were a lot of couples, women and men walking around together, smiling, holding hands, exchanging little kisses. It made me feel even more lonely, as if that was possible.
Girls weren't supposed to pine for boys, but that's what I found myself doing. Every time I heard a boy giggle I'd turn my head, half-hoping and half-dreading that it might be William, out with someone else, some other girl, but it wasn't. There were more guys than girls in the world, that's a scientific fact, and it affected society in small barely understood ways, but all it really meant to me was that I had a smaller chance of finding the perfect guy, than he did of finding me. And that seemed like a pretty deep thought for a girl shuffling past closed shops with her hands stuffed in her pockets.
I ended up in one of the nicer places, a downstairs jazz club that didn't really get started until late. I wasn't a big jazz person, but William was, he loved the old stuff and we'd come down there once in awhile, drinking coffee spiked with Irish cream, talking about how the world turned. It was dim and sexy and full of good memories, so I sat at the bar, listening to an anorexic waif of a man playing the piano, and watching eager young students solve the world's problems around me.
All I needed was a cigarette and I'd have been the picture of loneliness.
"I hope this seat's not taken," a pleasant, masculine voice surprised me and I looked to see an attractive young man sliding onto the barstool next to mine. We were the only ones at the bar, everyone else in the place sitting at tables or in booths.
"Uhhh…No, it's…" I smiled and shrugged, turning my rum and Coke on the bar, spinning the coaster beneath it.
He seemed tall, perhaps because of his heels, with a firm body that he'd dressed a lot nicer than most college boys would, but not overdoing it either. He wore a one piece mini, navy blue with spaghetti straps and a hemline that barely came mid-thigh as he crossed his long legs. I looked down, of course, because all girls are dogs, especially the lonely ones, and I could see the lump pressed upward between his tightly closed thighs. He had a beautiful face too, being very attractive like I said, with dark green eyes and golden hair in a French curl around his bare shoulders.
This guy was definitely out of my league and I envied whoever the girl might be that he was waiting for. I'd never been the most outgoing person anyway, and so this was precisely the sort of situation designed to drive me away. Sitting alone at a bar with a stunning young man, listening to some piano jazz; it wasn't normal and I decided to finish my drink and get away before I did something really stupid, like forget who I was and try to pick the guy up.
"Do you have a light?" the man asked me just about the time I started to stand up.
"Um…No. Sorry." I turned to him, smiling apologetically, and of course he was so beautiful just sitting there I felt like an idiot for not carrying a lighter for exactly this sort of situation.
"That's okay. I'm trying to quit anyway." He smiled, putting the cigarette carefully on the bar and flicking it a few inches away with one long red fingernail. I just watched it roll. "It's a dirty habit. I'm Valentine."
"Valentine?" Pretty boys made me feel particularly stupid and I was barely aware that he was holding his hand out. I took it, feeling his fingers soft and dry. "That's a pretty name. I've never met a Valentine before."
"My friends call me Val," he said with a slight nod of his chin as I let his hand go.
Val was a girl's name, short for Valerie, and he didn't look like a girl at all, so I had to smile with some disbelief. I didn't know what sort of friends he had, but I couldn't ever picture myself calling anyone who looked like that Val. Of course, I couldn't imagine having a friend like him anyway. I opened my mouth to say something to that effect, but he beat me to it.
"I know," he giggled lightly. "It's a girl's name, but I don't mind. What's yours?"
I groaned inwardly that he had to ask. "Jennifer, uh…Jen," I cleared my throat self-consciously. "I mean, you can call me Jen."
I offered him a sheepish smile, very much afraid I was going to blush, and so I did, naturally. Valentine was nice enough to pretend not to notice.
"Okay, Jen." He smiled back. "It's nice to meet you."
"Yeah," I nodded, being clever as a doorknob. "Do you, um, go to school?" I asked, which was only slightly better than asking what his sign was, I suppose. But not by much.
"Uh-huh, I'm a psych major," Valentine shrugged with a little self-deprecating smile. "Predictable, huh?"
"Uh, no. Not at all," I answered seriously and he giggled at that.
"How about you? Mmmm…" he looked at me closely, making me suddenly very uncomfortable, especially when his green eyes found mine, "…you look like a serious girl…Law school?"
I swallowed hard, wondering for a brief second if he knew me from somewhere. "Yeah, I'm…"
"Get you another?" the bartender interrupted me, a short woman dressed like an old time New Orleans doorman, complete with the red dinner jacket and ruffled bow tie.
"Yeah, um…and…" I looked at Valentine and he smiled, asking for a glass of wine, "…white wine, please," I echoed, just in case the bartender missed it.
"You were saying?" He touched my knee and I forgot entirely what we were talking about for a second.
"Oh, yeah…Uh, I'm pre-law," I nodded and cleared my throat a little. "First year."
"I knew it!" he laughed lightly. "I'm good at reading people," Valentine said and I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.
"Reading strange women alone in bars?" I smiled, hoping I sounded as clever as I thought I did.
"Especially them," Valentine agreed, running the tip of his pink tongue across his lower lip. He had extremely red lips.
The bartender brought our drinks and Valentine held his glass up for a bare second, tilting his head in a silent gesture of appreciation before sipping it slowly. I just watched him, appreciating the effortless grace of the simplest act you can imagine. Valentine, perhaps like all beautiful men, made the rest of us mere spectators. He possessed a dramatis personae that I would never fully understand, nor would I want to, in all honesty. I rather enjoyed the male mystique.
I rolled my eyes at myself and I looked down quickly, stirring my own drink with the little plastic straw that came with it. I had a small thought of trying to call William again, to invite him out and find a table with a candle on it so we could lean close together and whisper. I felt guilty sitting with Valentine, not so much because we were talking, or sharing a drink together, but because I found this other man so attractive. It makes little sense, I know, but right then I didn't want to find anything else beautiful, nothing but my memory of William.
"You're thinking of a boy now," Valentine's voice jerked me back and I looked at him. "But not me."
"I'm sorry," I sighed, trying to smile and having no clue as to what I was supposed to say right then.
"How do I change that, I wonder?" he asked somewhat petulantly, looking at me again, fixing my eyes with his. It wasn't very fair at all.
"I…" I shrugged helplessly, "…I have a boyfriend, sort of."
"But not right now." He licked his lips, not smiling, but still giving me impression that he was playing with me.
"No." I lifted my glass. "Not right now." I took a drink.
"We could go someplace, if you want." Valentine leaned closer, touching my leg, rubbing my thigh. "I have a place up the stairs."
"You have a place?" I had to think about that for a second, and it suddenly hit me all at once.
My eyes widened and he smiled, giving me the barest nod.
"You're a…" I didn't want to say it, for fear of getting a glass of wine in my face, as if I hadn't said too much already.
"A hundred dollars," Valentine whispered, so close that I could feel his sweet breath on my face. His hand found my crotch and his fingers seemed to stroke my clit, his fingertips pressing down just enough. "I'll help you forget him for a little while."
I knew there were prostitutes in town. I mean, I'd heard they were out there, but I always imagined them standing on the corner, dressed in leopard print pants and feather vests, dressed like peacocks with too much makeup, chewing gum, and…
"Alright," I said softly, wondering what I was doing.
Was I that desperate? And did desperation have anything to do with it really? Valentine was incredibly beautiful, stunning in fact, and I felt my stomach knot up with the realization that he wasn't really interested in me at all, but only in my money. And yet…
I had to go with him, for no other reason than I wanted to punish myself, I suppose. William loved me and now I was going upstairs, into some anonymous little room with a man whose name I might, or might not know, for no other reason than to be special for an hour or so. His eyes promised me that much at least; Valentine was a very good actor.
I paid for the drinks and we walked up the stairs to the sidewalk, and I felt a momentary flash of panic. What if everyone walking past knew I was with a prostitute? An honorable profession to be sure and perfectly legal in every state, except Utah, but still…My real worry, of course, was that William would happen along, just at the precise wrong moment in my life, and see me with this beautiful man. Would he be jealous? Probably and not unreasonably, but what if he wasn't? That thought frightened me terribly and I hoped Valentine's apartment wasn't very far.
"Welcome home," Valentine smiled as he unlocked his door, pushing it open for me, and that seemed like an odd thing to say.
His apartment consisted of a small loft, just three rooms probably, but I didn't get the grand tour or anything. The main room was small, but cozy, nicely decorated and much more tastefully so than what I might have expected. Prostitution must have paid pretty good. There was a bathroom just off to the left, the door slightly ajar, and what I assumed to be the kitchen off to the right. A large bed dominated the place, old fashioned brass and made up prettily with lavender sheets and silk pillows. There was no television, and just enough books in a large bookcase to make the place look lived in, but mainly the apartment seemed to be filled with porcelain figurines and dolls.
Valentine closed the door, locking it behind us, and picked up a remote control from a wicker end table. He used it to turn on a stereo and offered me a satisfied smiled as soft classical music began playing. It seemed simple and somehow elegant all at once and I just stood in the middle of the room wondering what it would be like to really come home to something like this every day.
"Do you like Vivaldi?" Valentine's mouth moved against my right ear. His hands encircled my waist as he pressed himself against my back.
"Sure," I replied, hoping he meant the music and not something else, but the name did seem to ring a small bell in the back of my mind.
"Me too, it's so romantic, but…" he turned me gently, looking almost level into my eyes, he was so tall, especially in heels, "…let's take care of the unromantic part first."
He wrinkled his nose, smiling at me as I nodded dumbly and reached for my wallet.
A hundred dollars didn't seem like very much for a boy who looked like Valentine, but then I'd never paid for sex before either. That was another thing that made me vaguely uncomfortable, knowing I was with a professional and hoping I knew what I was doing. I mean, everyone knows how to have sex, but I really wanted to be good at it suddenly, because standing there looking at Valentine? Yeah. There was little doubt in my mind that he'd be very good at whatever we did together.
Once Valentine had my money safely in his purse, it seemed as if we'd been together for years. Whatever I might have expected, a cold businesslike aspect, or a rush to get me off and out the door, that wasn't what Valentine was about at all.
"Let's relax a little," he said, and every movement he made was slow and deliberate. No hesitation, none of the nervousness that I felt, just an amazing calm.
We didn't sit down, we didn't even undress, he just let me take him in my arms and we danced slowly, if dancing we could call it. We moved together, and feeling him against me was wonderful. He smelled soft, so masculine and sweet, and I buried my face in Valentine's silky hair while he kissed my cheek and neck. The musk seemed to rise from his skin and I had to believe it was all him. Not soap or cologne, but a man beneath my lips.
This was foreplay like I'd never experienced in my life. Sex without being overt or aggressive. We merely touched each other and kissed lightly, and used all of our senses to explore each passing moment. My breasts ached the way they hadn't since I'd hit puberty and they'd started their slow painful development. My nipples flashed hot and cold under my sweatshirt, and the warm fleece rubbed my skin as we moved. My sex had grown tropical, hot and humid and tingling, my vagina literally trembled with anticipation, and my clit hardened noticeably, sending little shocks of electricity through my entire body.
Valentine had me flushed and breathing hard with such little effort on his part that I might have felt embarrassed, like a teenage girl on her first date. I could feel his penis, a distinct hardness trapped under his skirt, coiled in his panties, pressing against me. I wondered how he felt about doing this with me. It couldn't have been an act, not all of it. Valentine moved his hands along my back, murmuring in my ear and tickling me with his tongue and lips. His every touch felt like magic and it wasn't long before my lips found his for a real kiss.
I pushed my tongue into Valentine's mouth, trying to be gentle, to treat him like the beautiful, delicate man he was. I brought my hands down his spine, feeling the curve of his back, down to his pert round ass. I felt his narrow hips and waist moving beneath me, the contours so subtle and manly. My breasts pressed themselves against his flat chest and I hungered to see his nipples, to know if he felt as excited as I did. But first we kissed, listening to the fragile strains of violins and cellos, moving in that small room in the soft golden lamplight.
"Do you want to undress me?" Valentine asked, smiling and licking his lips. I could see his lipstick barely upset by our long kiss. He remained perfectly beautiful, or even more so perhaps, as I'd forgotten everything else completely.
"Oh yes," I nodded and he waited patiently as I gathered my strength.
Valentine watched my eyes as I slipped the thin straps of his dress off his pale shoulders so they fell loose down his arms. He held me steady, reassuring me with an occasional squeeze of my round hips. He didn't protest at all, but allowed me to pull his dress slowly down, revealing his body inch by inch while I held my breath. It seemed very much like opening a particularly delightful present and I wanted to make it last as long as possible.
I sighed with pleasure as Valentine's chest was exposed, the shape of his breasts defined by his muscles, and so smooth and pretty. I would have been afraid to imagine them swollen and ripe with milk. But that too held a real fascination for me, as with many women, the magic transformation that only a pregnant man could enjoy. How much better than the bland inflation of a woman's belly? And we spent our imaginations on such things, my sisters and I, all the while professing our admiration for the classic unspoiled male form.
Valentine gasped softly when I paused, unable to help myself as I placed a hand against his bare chest, moving my fingers across his left nipple. It had grown stiff, like my own, but longer and darker, erect with arousal. I bent my mouth to it and he didn't stop me, but cradled my head as I kissed and then suckled that tender nub of turgid flesh between my lips. I did the same with the other and then kissed his lips before returning to my task, pushing his dress down across his flat stomach and then his narrow hips. Valentine wriggled slightly for me, helping me undress him until I could let the material fall. Valentine let go of my own hips then, the straps slipping from his fingers with a whisper to puddle around his feet.
He wore a silvery G-string, just a silken pouch really, filled with his cock and balls, running back to taper in the soft crevice of his ass. I touched him gently, cupping the bulging material in my hand and feeling the warmth radiating from his flesh trapped inside. My heart beat with an uneven staccato and I released a ragged breath as I fondled the man's prick through the thin material that separated us.
"Go ahead…" he whispered, guiding me with his hands on my shoulders, sensing my desire and giving me more than mere permission to do whatever I wanted.
I knelt down for him, tugging at elastic encircling his waist, pulling the G-string down so that Valentine's thick penis seemed to spring free all of a sudden, as if coming to life before my very eyes. I thought it was perhaps the most beautiful penis I'd ever seen. It stood there, not quite fully erect, just in front of my face. The tip glistened faintly with precum, a small drop of fluid appearing on the pinkish head. The glans was large and smooth, with soft whitish skin just under the pronounced crown, giving way to a long, thick shaft, smooth but for the intricate pattern of veins just beneath the skin.
I kissed the tip, which was something I'd done only a few times in my life, and never with as much pleasure as I felt doing it for Valentine just then. Men loved to get oral sex, but I was one of those girls who didn't find the idea of going down on a man particularly exciting. I'd do it for William, once in awhile, but he was a virgin and hadn't wanted too much attention down there anyway. Valentine was anything but a virgin, of course, and I felt his fingers in my short hair, coaxing me to give him pleasure.
I did my best, wanting it to be good for him, despite my inexperience. I licked around the head and down the shaft, kissing his flesh and taking the man's heavy balls in my hand. I played with them carefully, enjoying the weight of them, wondering how much sperm he might have. He was a prostitute after all, and it seemed likely there would be little he could offer, but he had no problem growing hard. Valentine's penis stiffened quickly to its full majestic size, and I took that as a good sign.
"In your mouth, Jen…Please…That feels so good…" he whispered and I could do nothing but what he asked, prostitute or not.
I opened my mouth and pressed my stretched lips around the head, moving my tongue over and under the glans as I tried to take more of him. Part of me, a very small part, rebelled at this, wondering if I wasn't tasting some other woman's cunt right then, but it was a foolish thought. I could smell nothing but him; taste only the clean flavor of his skin. I tried to concentrate on taking as much of Valentine as I could, but he was large and thick, and I gagged slightly as his cockhead found the back of my mouth.
He didn't seem to mind though and my ears were filled with words of encouragement. I wasn't very good, I knew, but he proved to be the consummate lover, patient and generous to a fault. I went down on him for fifteen minutes perhaps, no more than that, but it seemed both longer and shorter. My jaw felt tired and wetness ran down my chin as I looked up at him. Valentine smiled and stroked my hair, lifting me to my feet and telling me it was his turn.
I fairly trembled with nervous excitement when Valentine undressed me. Pulling my sweatshirt over my head at first, exposing my own larger female breasts. He played with them, kissing my skin and telling me how handsome I was, how feminine and sexy he found my body, and if he patronized me that way, I wasn't aware of it. I believed every word the man uttered and I groaned as he chewed my nipples, using his teeth and giving me a subtle mix of pleasure and pain that I'd never dreamt of before. It seemed as if he knew exactly where to touch me, where to bite and nibble and suck. I could have cum I think, just from the attention he was giving my tits and I was reminded of William who loved me much the same way, but with nowhere near this result.
When Valentine lifted his mouth I had to fight the urge to pull him back, but I wanted so much more as well. It was his turn to kneel, and he did so easily, kissing my body as he moved, until his hands were removing my shoes and then my socks, caressing my feet for several minutes, like a tease that felt too good to resist. I'd never had a man touch my feet like that and I wished I'd been sitting or lying down, wondering what this man could do with me then. He'd probably have me swimming in girl goo, I thought with a little smile.
My humor was short lived however as Valentine made me groan, pressing a hand against my sex through my trousers, bringing my clit to throbbing life with the momentary flash of pressure. He smiled up at me, asking me if I wanted him to take off my pants yet, and that seemed such a foolish question it made me giggle like a little boy.
"Oh God…" I moaned, watching as Valentine undid my trousers, his nimble fingers making short work of my belt and buttons.
Valentine unzipped me carefully, letting my pants come down slowly so that I could feel the cool air on my bare thighs. He helped me step out of the legs one at a time, my hands on his shoulders. I could see his penis between his legs, still hard, bobbing up and down playfully as he moved. I thought I'd never seen anything so sexy in my life as that beautiful man on his knees right then.
He massaged my sex through the tightness of my briefs, teasing me, kissing my thighs and blowing hot, moist air across my skin. Valentine moved his arms between my legs, using them to force my feet apart, spreading myself for him as he reached up to feel my taut ass in his hands. He squeezed me like that, his hands reaching from below and pressed his mouth to the faint contours of my pussy, kissing and licking at the soft cotton of my underwear. I was practically begging him to release me, to give me direct contact with his mouth. My stomach churned wildly and my sex clasped around the unwelcome emptiness inside like a starving mouth dying to be filled.
"I don't want to make you cum yet," he told me with a smile, watching my eyes and knowing I was on edge already and I'd only just gotten my pants off.
"Yeah," I breathed, not knowing what else to say.
"Don't cum until I'm inside you, Jen." His voice was husky with lust, or something so close to it that I wouldn't know the difference in a thousand years.
"Okay," I nodded and laughed, rolling my eyes because my orgasm wasn't up to me. The man owned me completely at that point.
He kissed my sex once more, gave my ass one last squeeze, and then he rose to his feet, bringing me to the bed. I sat down on it, feeling the mattress give only a little beneath the slinky satin sheets. Valentine was opening the drawer of the closest nightstand and I watched him, regaining my breath, willing my heart to slow down. I wasn't sure what he was doing until I saw that he held a small package, a condom, tearing the foil with his fingers.
"Do you have to wear that?" I asked him.
"I'm not on the pill," he said, looking at me. "Are you ovulating?"
I thought about lying to him, I confess, but that would have been impossible at that point. "I don't know." I licked my lips, looking into his green eyes. "Do you have to?"
"I don't want us to get pregnant," valentine replied in a soft, reasonable voice and I knew it wasn't my decision. "Bareback…" he smiled apologetically, perhaps wishing for a new language just then, "…it costs extra if you really want it."
I nodded quickly, whatever he wanted would be worth it. "How much?" I asked, feeling no embarrassment at all, and I wondered what had changed so much in the last half hour or so.
"Two hundred more," he said, holding the condom in his hand so I could see it. The foil had been torn, just a little. "It'll still be good, Jen. I promise." He kissed my thigh. "You won't even know the difference."
I didn't have two hundred dollars on me. I barely had that much back in my room, my weekly allowance from my parents wasn't but a hundred dollars. I was blowing an entire week just one this. I wanted to feel him though, Valentine's naked skin against mine, I wanted to feel his sperm swimming inside me, mixing with my own fertile juices, and then the great unknown, the small chance that maybe I'd climax. That we'd get pregnant, this beautiful man and myself, this Valentine that I was helplessly falling in love with.
I nodded weakly, surrendering to his decision because I had no other choice and taking comfort in knowing that my regret would be a small one at least. I believed Valentine when he told me it would still feel good, and besides, I told myself, condoms break all the time. They're the least reliable method of birth control known to womankind and if I really worked him hard…I watched as he pulled the thin latex sheath free of the package, holding it out for me.
"Do you want to put it on me?" he asked, and I nodded dumbly.
I'd never touched a condom before in my life, except once in my old Sex Ed class. We'd all taken a turn putting a condom on a male dummy's penis, laughing and teasing each other. But Valentine was no dummy, and there were no handy instructions written on the blackboard. Still, it wasn't all that hard to do, except for my nervousness.
"Some girls like to put it on with their mouths," Valentine said. "Pinch the tip, leave some room," he instructed gently and without laughing at me at all. Just telling me how to do it, smiling and rubbing my shoulder.
"How do I do it with my mouth?" I asked him, deciding if I was going to have safe-sex I might as well get my money's worth, so to speak.
"Just get it started, not too far…" he watched as I rolled the condom down a little, just to the widest part of the head, around the ridge-like crown, "…now just put your lips around it and push."
Valentine smiled and I kept my eyes up, looking at him as I did it, but of course my lips slipped right off. But that was okay, a couple tries later and I found it wasn't so hard after all. I managed to get the condom halfway down his cock, straining the back of my mouth against his cockhead as I did so. Shoot! He had a long cock, much like that boy we'd pulled a train on the other night, but Valentine was thicker, I thought. Much prettier too.
"Mmmm…Now you know," he said and I used my fingers the rest of the way, smoothing the latex down his shaft as far as it would go, leaving a couple inches, or maybe three of exposed skin between the base of his cock and the rubber.
"You have the most beautiful cock I've ever seen," I told him seriously. "I just want you to know that."
"Thank you," he giggled and stood there, sexy as hell and ready for sex. "How do you want to do it?"
Valentine was enjoying himself, I could tell, and he might even have thought I was a virgin for all I knew. I doubted he asked many other girls what position they wanted though, more likely they knew already and pushed and pulled him into the place they wanted him. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do with a prostitute? I had no idea and it was hard for me to remember that he really had been bought and paid for.
"Just, um…Just missionary?" I said, but it sounded like a question.
That was the only way I'd ever done it, the man on his back, me straddling his legs, fucking him in the oldest position in the book. Or maybe the oldest was…
"Uh…Doggy style," I changed my mind and I even blushed a little, but Valentine didn't seem to notice.
"Ohhh…That's my favorite," he nodded, smiling and reaching for my underwear. I lifted my ass, letting him pull my briefs down my thighs and legs. "Mmmm…Jen…You have a big clit," he said in his husky voice, reaching with his hands to spread my thighs a little. "Nice and hard too."
I knew my clit wasn't that big, but he sounded sincere and it made me feel good. It was the size of his pinky finger, just the tip really, all of half an inch long, but hard and pink and throbbing. He touched it, just barely, stroking me and I shivered against the sensation. I was close, very close and I think Valentine wanted to kiss it for me, suck it and make me feel really good, but we both knew that if he did, I'd cum. Once I came he wouldn't get that beautiful cock inside me for fifteen minutes at least. My hymen would close, ignorant of the empty void inside me, and we didn't want that. When I came I wanted to be riding his cock all the way to heaven.
Soon enough I took a position on the bed, on my hands and knees and looking over my shoulder at Valentine as he knelt behind me. I groaned as I felt the head of his cock rubbing along my slit. He teased me with it deliberately, I think, making me quiver with anticipation. I moved my hips and rolled my ass, pressing myself back against him, begging with my body for his sweet penetration.
"Put it in, Val…Please…I'm so close, baby…"I finally had to urge him and he smiled, giving his head a shake to get a lock of golden hair out of his gorgeous eyes.
I was almost ready to speak again, to beg him, when I felt it, that unique sexual sensation of my labia being split around something blunt and hard. I nodded and closed my eyes, concentrating and wanting to memorize the moment of penetration as if I was fifteen again. My pussy surrendered easily, the mouth of my sex yielding around the bulbous head of Valentine's cock. The inner lips and the taut flesh beneath protested only weakly, and the stretching of my vaginal walls was immediately welcome.
Valentine pushed with slow deliberation, holding my wide hips, keeping me still against all of my instincts. He was pushing inward, deeper and deeper and I could feel my tight muscles resisting and then surrendering, one by one. It was like a fire had been lit between my legs, or a fuse burning slowly towards my womb. I clenched my teeth against the pleasure which had quickly overwhelmed the slight discomfort of being stretched. Valentine's cock was fat and long and it seemed never ending. I wondered if he'd reach all the way to my cervix. He didn't, but it had to be close, so very close.
I was breathing hard and the butterflies were swarming in my stomach, the fireflies blinking behind my tightly shut eyes. Oh! How I wished he was unsheathed inside me. I was so close to cumming, the slightest movement could set me off now.
And we did move. I felt his skin against my ass, his cock as deep as possible, his heavy balls brushing my erect little clit, or so I imagined. Valentine backed out slowly, not all the way, but very nearly, and then pushed deep once more, faster and harder, pulling me against him. I felt one of his hands reaching down, underneath me, looking for my clit, and he was all the way inside when I felt his fingers. Just a slight pressure, the little circular motion that I knew was coming, that I needed so badly. Valentine's touch set off an explosion of pleasure.
I couldn't breathe suddenly and my heart stopped as my whole body just seemed to collapse in on my cunt, surrounding Valentine's cock, squeezing him. I was cumming hard, like I'd cum only rarely before. My senses were lost and I was only aware of his cock sliding back and forth, tugging at my hymen occasionally as if he might withdraw completely and couldn't. And my muscles were rippling around him, trying to contain the man, to hold his cock deep inside me, coaxing him to join me and spill his seed into my womb.
He fucked me for five minutes I think, or maybe even ten, I had no ability to tell. All I knew was that unlike every other boy I'd been with, Valentine wasn't cumming, at least not immediately. He had some self-control, some iron discipline perhaps, that made him able to ignore the sensations of my cunt squeezing his penis, stroking him with a rhythm as much like swallowing as anything else. I pushed myself back against him, grinding and groaning with delight at the feeling of his cock moving inside me. And when he did finally cum, I felt Valentine slamming his cock as deeply inside me as possible, even deeper than he'd been before. The head of his prick did find the entrance to my womb finally, touching my cervix and making me gasp with the unexpected kiss. The strength failed in my shoulders and arms so that all I could do was collapse onto the bed, leaving my ass high in the air.
Valentine moaned softly, his sweet voice joining mine as his penis jerked and spasmed uselessly inside me. He pressed himself down on top of me, pushing me flat until my legs were straight, my body pinned to the bed beneath his own. His mouth was on my ear, kissing me and urging me to turn my head. We kissed hard, our tongues fighting for passionate supremacy between open, gasping mouths. My body burned and his weight seemed as a heavy blanket, comforting without suffocating. We stayed like that, kissing and moving our hips, working ourselves together while my cunt spasmed uncontrollably, prolonging his orgasm for five, ten and then fifteen minutes at least.
When it was over, when my body had decided I'd bathed in his non-existent sperm long enough, my muscles relaxed. My hymen loosened around him, releasing his penis and he slipped out of me quickly, knowing all too well that I was desperately anxious to cum once more. I was primed for it, for another orgasm, to lock Valentine's beautiful cock inside me for another long round of fucking. But he denied me that pleasure, as he had to, I suppose.
"Like this…" he whispered, unwilling to leave me completely wanting.
He brought his mouth to my sex, which was soaked with fluid, all of it mine. It had spilled out of me with his penis and he turned me, pushing me so he could lick my clitoris, taking it into his mouth like a tiny cock. I thrust against Valentine awkwardly with my hips, my fingers digging into his hair, damp with sweat from his efforts to please me. I held him tightly, my thighs closing against his flushed cheeks and I came again, this time with nothing inside me but the man's tongue.
I sprayed my juices into his hungry mouth, feeling his lips move as he swallowed. I was flooding him, my second orgasm being nearly as good as the first, and he continued to lick and kiss and swallow for many long minutes while my cunt spasmed as before, but with nothing for the muscles to work themselves against. It still felt good, like an endless series of mini-orgasms, but it wasn't the same either. I felt empty inside, and all my juices poured through me, into Valentine's tender mouth.
Valentine was without a doubt the best lover I'd had in my life. Even without feeling his sperm inside me, it had been intense and wonderful. He kept his mouth on my sex for so long that my clit had begun to scream in protest, becoming all of a sudden too tender for any more of his attention, and that was when I pulled him up, heedless of my juices, just needing him right then to hold and kiss. I tasted myself on him and any other time I would have resisted that possibility as disgusting, but right then I was beyond caring about such trivial things. I kissed him and let him rest against me until my body finally began to calm.
"I love you," I whispered, not caring if it sounded stupid or naïve. I truly imagined that was how I felt and he didn't laugh at me.
"No you don't…" Valentine kissed me, snuggling his body to mine, pressing his cheek to my right breast. "You love that other boy, the one we left in the bar," he sighed softly. "But it's a nice thought anyway. Thank you, Jen."