index


Message-ID: <50281asstr$1106568603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: kenn_ghannon@hotmail.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 24 Jan 2005 07:11:53 +0000 (UTC)
User-Agent: G2/0.2
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: c13g2000cwb.googlegroups.com; posting-host=69.14.191.123;
   posting-account=6eeahQwAAAD-q5FLbJx4WBrvJjW3kmCZ
Subject: {ASSM} RP: [Revised] Tricks, Part 1/2 (mf teen first rom)
Lines: 1271
Date: Mon, 24 Jan 2005 07:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

*****WARNING*****
The following is a story containing graphic depictions of sex between
under-age characters.  If you are under the age of consent in your area
or are bothered by reading about sexual acts, please don't continue
reading any further
**********

I owe a large debt of gratitude to Denny Wheeler who volunteered to
edit this for me.  If you find no errors with this story it is due to
Denny's extraordinary skill in cleaning up my mess.  If you do find
errors, they're all mine.  I can neither ask nor expect Denny to find
ALL of my errors.

I spend time writing these stories to entertain.  If you like what I
write, if you don't like what I write, or if you have some constructive
criticisms please feel free to send these comments to
kenn_ghannon@nospam.hotmail.com (removing the 'nospam' phrase as
necessary).  Thank you.



Tricks, Part 1/2 (mf teen first rom)

9th grade.  There are no other two words that will evoke such promise
before you get there and such terror after.  I guess some people really
do manage to turn it all around once they get into high school.  As
soon as I walked through the doors on my first day, I knew I wasn't
going to be one of them.

I had been - and, if I'm honest, still was - a nerd.  A perpetual
wallflower with the social skills of a hermit crab.  It had started in
second grade.  I was always small, smaller than any of the other kids,
and always chubby.  I wasn't fat or obese - Tommy Solomon was really
fat, so I had some basis for comparison - but I had more than my share
of pounds on my short frame.

Kids can be mean and 2nd graders probably meaner than most.  Tommy and
I were the outcasts of our grade.  No one would play with us. We were
picked dead last for any games, and we were taunted and teased
mercilessly.  We were even beaten up on more than one occasion by Paul
Mathews - the largest kid in our class -- and his crowd.

Tommy got it worse than me but that was because he kept coming back for
more.  He tried really hard to fit in but no one is going to give a big
fat kid anything but grief.  I have to hand it to Tommy, though.  He
kept right on trying through 5th grade when his parents moved to a
different state.  I'm not sure if that was courage or stupidity but it
was impressive.

I retreated into my shell.  I ran home every day to avoid Paul Mathews,
stopped talking in class to anyone but the teacher and took my recesses
in the library where I'd read anything I could.  I used these as
substitutes for human contact - if I wasn't around people, there'd be
no chance of getting picked on or teased.  So, I built up walls to
insulate myself from anyone and anything - and those walls were made of
6 inches of solid steel by the time I reached high school.

I guess it didn't help that I was pretty smart.  When you're in the
library almost every day for lunch and have an ounce of determination
and even a bit of brains you tend to learn a lot of different stuff.
By 4th grade I was wrecking every test curve there was and the labeling
was complete.  I was now a chubby pariah brain - a typical nerd.

Still, the summer after 8th grade I held out some hope that high school
would be different.  I'd had a really big growth spurt that summer and
went from 5'2" to 6' in a single summer.  My cousin Mac - David
McKenzie, probably my 2nd closest friend and confidant throughout my
life as well as being something of my protector - was a big time
football jock and he helped me start lifting weights in our garage.

I wasn't really dedicated to it, so I ended up with more of a lean -
the growth spurt had taken care of my chubbiness -- toned look than the
muscles Mac had, but I was happy with it.  For the first time I was
actually feeling hopeful that high school would be different than the
past 7 odd years had been.

If I thought about it at all, though, I probably would have seen the
warning signs.  My brain hadn't gone on vacation, so I was still smart
and still had my nose in a book most of the time.  Plus I had a body
that I still hadn't "grown into" mentally, both in terms of size and
muscles.  So, instead of a chubby pariah nerd I was now a gangly,
awkward pariah nerd.

Nothing demonstrated it to me more than walking through those doors
that first day.  Paul Mathews and his gang - David Mitchell, Tony Feliz
and Mark Carmen - were standing just inside the doors.  They
immediately latched onto me, Paul going so far as to put his arms
around my shoulders.  It looked like he had had a bit of a growth spurt
too.  He was now 6' 6" and wide as a door.

"Hey, Brain," my loathed nickname, a play on my first name of Brian,
"We was just saying how worried we were that we wouldn't have anyone to
'have fun' with this year when you walked through the door.  Sign of
God, man."

God may have been giving him a sign, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't
God's foot that tripped me face first to the floor.  "Ooops!" Paul and
his cronies just laughed and walked away.

Luckily, Western High was pretty big, so I didn't see that group much
during the day.  Well, that's not exactly true.  I saw them...and when
I did, I rushed in the opposite direction.

My day would have been completely destroyed if it hadn't been for my
2nd hour algebra and 5th hour world history classes.

SHE was in those classes.  I had never even seen her before but that
didn't surprise me.  A lot of different middle schools poured into
Western.

Samantha Kothari.  She was beautiful.  She stood maybe 5'3"/5'4" and
had the most stunning black hair I'd ever seen cut to her shoulders.
Bright hazel eyes, a thin nose, full red lips and the cutest dimples in
the world.  She was kind of on the thin side but she certainly had all
the right curves in all the right places.  She wore a skirt and I could
see that even her legs were perfect.

My throat went dry, my tongue swelled up, and my hands became cold and
clammy.  My breath was short...when I remembered to breathe.  I think I
forgot how at some point during the few seconds it took her to walk
into the room and sit down in the back.  I was instantly "in love".

And did nothing about it except moon over her in a calf-eyed, puppy dog
way for several weeks.

Over those weeks I noticed things, though.  She didn't talk much, but
when she did it was in a low, throaty voice.  She never walked in with
anyone and had her eyes constantly on the ground.  She usually clutched
her books to her chest as she walked.  For some insane reason it looked
almost as if she were afraid of everyone.  I got the strange idea that
she was huddling rather than just being shy.

I also noticed she wasn't doing too well in either of the classes we
shared.  My algebra teacher, Mr. Mendez, had the talk with her first in
middle October.  I wasn't trying to snoop but I heard every word.  She
wasn't failing, but she was awful close.  Mr. M was trying hard to talk
her into moving over into the pre-Algebra course but she was insistent
on staying.  Very insistent.

I overheard Mrs. Weathers later that month having very nearly the same
conversation with her with very nearly the same result.  Of course, in
this case, there wasn't a more remedial history class she could take.

At home that night, I was daydreaming about walking up to Samantha and
offering to tutor her...but I knew I'd never do it.  I was terrified of
even talking to her.  Heck, I was terrified of talking to most people -
male or female but especially female.

As it turned out, though, I didn't have to.

It happened the second week of November.  I was walking out of algebra,
ever alert for the 'Paul Posse' when I felt the faintest of taps on my
shoulder.  When I turned around, she was standing right behind me.

"Um."  She was looking at the ground, her eyes coming up to my face
every so often.  Her books, as usual, were clutched firmly to her
chest.  "You're Brian Katye, right?"

It was several tongue-twisting moments before I could stammer out my
"Yes."  Even as I said it, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

"Well...uh...you're really good at, you know, math and history, right?"
She still never looked directly at me but I eventually managed to
mumble out another yes. "I...um...kinda need help in those classes.  I
was...er...wondering if, you know, you might be able to help me out.  I
mean, it's okay if you don't wanna, I just kind of needed some help..."

I think I said "Yes" before she actually finished with her question.

"Okay," and she smiled.  I swear it was like the sun shining through
the clouds on a rainy day.  "We could, um, meet after school maybe?"

I walked the mile and a half to school every day, so that wouldn't be a
problem.  "Okay.  I'm kind of a long walk away, do you want to...you
know...meet at your house?"

She was truly startled by that and her face grew almost ashen.  "NO!"
she blurted, a look of fear washing across her face.  She gathered
herself pretty quickly after that.  "I mean...no...I was thinking...you
know...maybe the library."

"Okay.  I'll see you after 6th period, all right?"

"Okay," and she walked away, her eyes still on the ground.

I was a mess.  On one hand, my dream girl had finally spoken to me.  On
the other, I couldn't shake the feeling that Samantha wasn't
comfortable talking to me.  Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to
truly think about things until my fourth period - lunch.  Now, I'm
pretty smart but when it comes to reading girls I am the dumbest kid in
the world.  Even I, though, could tell that something was wrong.  The
fear on her face when I offered to tutor her at her house, the constant
way she avoided everyone.  It wasn't natural.  She was one of the
beautiful people in all but name.  She was gorgeous; there was
absolutely no reason that she shouldn't have tons of friends all over
the school.  I couldn't figure it out by myself.  I needed to talk to
Evie.

Eve Glenn was my confidant and my best friend in the whole world.  We'd
known each other almost since the day we were born.  She lived next
door and our parents were the absolute best of friends so we naturally
spent a lot of time together.

Even though she had gone to a private school until now, Evie knew
everything there was to know about me; I confided in her about
everything.  As a universal rule, I stuttered, stammered and blushed
whenever I talked to a girl, but having known her so long I was
comfortable enough that it never caused me any problems.  For instance,
sometimes late at night, when our parents were sitting around playing
cards or just hanging out, we'd lay out in my backyard and just look at
the stars, talking about anything that came to mind.  We were that
comfortable around one another.  Actually, to say she was my best
friend is like saying the Pope was a little bit Catholic.  She was more
my sister than a friend.

Interestingly, my first kiss had come the previous summer and it had
been with Evie.  We were just walking down the street, talking about
nothing in particular, when she turned to me and said, "Brian, will you
kiss me?"

"What?" was my oh-so-clever response.

"I've been thinking about it.  I want to know what it's like before we
hit high school and I'm afraid if I ask another boy, he'd expect
something more.  Kissing you, though, is safe because you're like my
big brother."  Evie had been born almost exactly two months after me,
so our age difference wasn't much but she always played the big brother
card when she was really trying to get me to do something.

A knot formed in my throat and my heart pounded in my chest.  Hey, Evie
was like my little sister but she was really hot.  She had soft red
hair that hung to the middle of her back in curling waves.  Her
flawless skin was pale but with all the requisite freckles and she had
begun developing in regions of her body that definitely would be of
interest to most boys - and I, a typical teenager with typical
hormones, was not immune.  She might have had a pound or two around her
tummy, but other than that she was one of the most beautiful girls I'd
ever seen.  Of course, I'd never in a million years thought of her in
THAT way...but her question certainly forced those thoughts into my
mind in a big hurry.

What could I say, though?  There was no way that I could turn her down
without admitting to her that I was thinking THOSE thoughts...so,
before I knew it, I had agreed to it.

Evie just smiled up at me - she was 5'8", just a bit shorter than me at
the time - snaked her arms around my neck, pulled my head down as her
body molded to mine and pressed our lips together.

Fireworks.  It was my first kiss and it was everything I could have
ever asked it to be.   As good as it was, though, it got even better
when her tongue parted my lips.  I have no concept of how long it
lasted but I never wanted it to end.  The worst part, though, was that
I had ALL of the expected reactions including a definite stirring in my
groin.  Somewhere through the haze, I was worried she might have
noticed it too.

"Thanks, Bri," she whispered when it was over.  "That was really
great."

I could only look at her, grinning foolishly, not trusting myself to
speak.  Her arms lingered momentarily around my neck and her eyes
almost looked a question at me before the moment passed and she pulled
away.  The added time it took her to disengage was probably a good
thing since I'm pretty sure she was the only thing holding me up.

As we continued walking down the street, definite thoughts of an encore
performance started pounding through my head.  Then I shook those
thoughts out of my head.  This was Evie, my best friend.  She had
trusted me NOT to want anything more because of our friendship.  There
was no way I was going to go all puppy-dog over her and destroy that
trust.

The walk home, though, was pretty quiet.

Evie ate lunch with me during 4th period every day, usually bringing
several of her girlfriends along to engage in girl talk.  Today,
though, I just asked her if we could get an out-of-the-way table and
talk alone for a bit.  She looked at me a little funny for a second but
agreed.  After telling her girlfriends, we found a little corner table
and sat down.

"What's up, Bri?" she asked immediately.

"Well, there's this girl," I started.  I wasn't sure, but it seemed
like she stiffened a little.  It was probably my imagination, though,
because in the next minute she was just smiling at me.

"When ISN'T it about a girl?" she teased.  Neither Evie nor I had any
experience with the opposite sex and we both knew it.  We had teased
each other, however, about all of the people we wouldn't mind getting
some experience with.

I just laughed at her.  "Okay, so my hormones ARE peeking their little
heads out just a bit.  This has nothing to do with them."  She just
cocked an eyebrow at me and waited, the silly grin never leaving her
face.  "Okay, well not MUCH to do with them," I sighed.

She just giggled at me and I rolled my eyes back at her.

"It isn't really like that, though.  I'm worried about someone," I
started.  Quickly, I told her everything about what had happened in the
hall.  After, I told her what I had been observing about Samantha; the
clutched books, eyes on the ground, avoidance to everyone.  Evie just
sat there, looking at me intently.

She gave a soft sigh.  "You really like this girl, don't you?"

"Yea...I've kind of got a crush on her..."

"Well, for now you need to respect her boundaries, you know?  I mean,
tutor her in the library and stuff, and just try to be her friend.
Maybe she'll open up to you.  And if that doesn't work, we'll figure
something else out."

Evie, as usual, made a lot of sense.  So, that settled, we finished
eating and started laughing with each other about school, the day,
other kids...anything.  Evie was probably the only one who laughed with
me instead of at me.  We could go for hours, just cracking each other
up.  I was truly at my most comfortable - and, therefore, at my best -
when I was around her.

I tutored Samantha every afternoon for a month...and she never opened
up to me.  I didn't press her about her home life, but I did check her
out.  I told myself I was just looking for bruises or any other sign
that she might be having trouble at home but I won't lie and say that
looking at her closely didn't have other fringe benefits.  I didn't
find any signs of physical abuse, though.  I couldn't figure out what
she was hiding.

It wasn't that she was dumb, either.  She was actually rather
smart...she just seemed to have trouble concentrating on things.  I
remember the first time, not too long after I started tutoring her, she
seemed to just start staring at the wall while I was explaining an
algebraic expression.  I didn't notice at first, but when I finished
and looked at her expectantly for the answer, she didn't move - just
kept staring at the wall.  I had to call her a few times before she
looked at me.  When she did, I had to explain the whole thing all over
to her.  She *DID* manage to get the answer right, though.

However, it kept happening with greater and greater frequency the
longer I tutored her.  I started getting really, really upset about it.
Hey...if she wasn't going to make an effort I certainly didn't want to
be there.  Well, I wanted to be there, but...

Two weeks before Christmas and right before mid-terms, my anger finally
won out.  She started the 'space' routine while I was coaching her
through a fairly important math problem.  When I realized it, I got
pretty angry and decided I'd had enough.  I just closed my books and
put all my stuff away.  She didn't even realize what I was doing until
I stood up to leave.

"What's the matter, Brian?" she asked, a tremor of fear running through
her voice.

"Look," I started, trying hard to rein in my anger.  "If you aren't
even going to try, what am I doing here??"

"Wh..what??  I'm trying!  Honest!"

"Yeah.  Most of the time," I spat out derisively.  "But every now and
then you just stare off into space!  Look...I need to know...are you on
drugs or something?"

"NO!"  She was angry and maybe deservedly so.  I was somewhat
astonished, though.   I'd never seen her show much emotion at all
beyond an occasional smile or giggle.  With some effort, she calmed
herself.  A few seconds later and she just looked at me sheepishly.

"I guess I can see where you might get that," she whispered, her face a
mask of contemplation.  "But I'm not...you have to believe me."

"What, then?" I hesitated for a moment, trying to find the courage to
ask her the question that had nagged at me so long.  "Is there
something wrong at home?  Are you being abused?"

"Wh...what??"  I saw the fear in her eyes and I knew that I had hit on
something.  "No...I've...I just....I've got to go."  She gathered her
stuff quickly, tears in her eyes and just ran out the door.  I tried
calling to her, but she made no sign she even heard me.

She avoided looking at me in algebra the next day and I was worried.
Something was going on with her at home...but what?  And who should I
tell?  And what if I were wrong??

I didn't pay much attention in class that day, my mind a whirling
dervish of points and counter-points.  Should I tell a counselor at
school what I suspected??  Go to the police???  Or should I try to
confront her one more time??

As I was leaving class, she tapped me on the shoulder again.

"Brian, I'm sorry about yesterday," she began.  Her voice wasn't much
more than a whisper and her eyes never left the ground.  "Will you meet
me in the library after 6th?  Please??"

"Samantha, look.  I'm worried about you.  If you're in trouble, you
need to go to a counselor or the principal or something..."

"Really?" Her eyes finally came up to my face and the hint of a smile
played around the edges of her lips.  "You're worried?"  I could see
some kind of struggle going on inside her.  Finally, she seemed to come
to a decision.  "Instead of at the library, could you meet me at the
front doors?"

"Sure...but why?"

"I'll explain it then."  She smiled at me--a full, beautiful smile that
lit up the hallway.  Then she turned and walked away.

I waited for her at the front doors after 6th period.  I was a little
worried the Paul Posse would see me but I guess I was lucky.  Or maybe
they'd just skipped 6th period.

Samantha smiled at me gratefully when she saw came out.  "Will
you...um...walk with me?" she asked hesitantly.

"Sure...where are we going?"

"That depends, kind of," she said hesitantly.  She looked lost in
thought as we walked, as if she were trying to work something out in
her head.  I didn't want to disturb her, so I just walked next to her
in silence.  Finally, she turned to me again.  "Look, you have to
promise me something.  You have to promise me that you'll never tell
anyone...not ANYONE...anything about what you see today.  Promise?"

"Samantha, you're putting me in a tough position," I replied, trying to
work my answer out in my head.  "I can't...no, I WON'T...promise if I
see you getting abused.  I can't."

"I know.  I told you...I'm not being abused.  Now will you promise?"

"Sure."  It would have been easy to give my word and then not keep
it...but I wasn't built that way.  My word was almost sacred to me and
if I gave it, I would keep it.

"Cool.  Okay...one other thing you have to do.  Call me Sam...please.
Everyone calls me Sam."

"No problem," I said with a little grin.  She returned it easily.

We walked up Mabor Street to Grand and then Grand to Masters.  It was a
long walk, but my parents knew I was tutoring someone after school.
Plus, I had my cell phone if need be.  When we turned onto Vernoy,
though, I began to get a bit worried.

Vernoy was the "dangerous" part of town.  The houses along this area
were nothing more than shacks and burned out apartments.  I wouldn't
say that every newscast reported stories of shootings and muggings in
this area - just most of them.

She stopped rather suddenly.  She looked at me hesitantly, her eyes
searching my face and her voice was nothing more than a whisper.  "This
is it."

It wasn't much of a house.  Two stories, but very small.  There was a
run down chain link fence surrounding the house and dilapidated wooden
steps rising up to the door.  The outside looked like it had been
painted white once...but that had to have been 50 or more years ago.
The paint, which looked almost gray now, was peeling badly.  The
windows had years of grime over them.  As I looked at it, I could
barely believe anyone lived there.

Then it hit me.  This must be why she didn't want anyone to meet at her
house.  This must be why she avoided people...she didn't want them to
know where she lived.  As it turns out, I was both right and wrong.

"Well," I smiled at her putting my best face forward.  I wanted to put
her at ease and hopefully break her out of her self-conscious shell.
"Are we going in or are we going to study out here?"

She smiled a small, forced smile at me.  "Just remember your promise."

We walked in the door and the inside was in sharp contrast to the
outside in that it was clean.  It was still run down, nothing could
change that, but it was orderly.  The dirt from the outside had been
banished from in here.  There was a rickety staircase in front of us
and the glow of kitchen beyond it.  The living room with its dingy
coating of light gray paint and lattice work of cracks and holes in the
plaster was off to the left.  Everywhere I turned was mis-matched and
apparently second-hand furniture.

"Sammie?" the voice was slurred and pitiful.  I turned towards the
voice and almost gasped.

She was in the living room but she almost seemed to blend in.  I hadn't
noticed her.  She probably was pretty once but years - if not decades -
of decay had erased most of that.  Her eyes were glassy and sunken and
her hair was matted and gray.  Her skin had that sallow tone that is
often seen after years of drugs or liquor took their effect.  She came
to rest with her hand on the doorjamb next to us and it was everything
I could do not to recoil in horror.

"Momma, this is a friend from school.  He's going to help me with my
homework."  Sam spoke quickly.  She pulled at me, dragging me towards
the steps.

"Nice...uh...nice to meet you, Mrs. Kothari."  But Sam's mom just
looked right past me.

At the top of the stairs were four doors around a small hall, two doors
on the right, one at the end of the hall and one on the left.  Sam
opened the first door on the right and called in.

"Marky, Mathew.  I'm home.  I'll fix you dinner in a little bit, okay?"

Two boys appeared at the door.  They were young, maybe 10 and 8.  They
had the same black hair as Sam but there were very few other
similarities.  The older one was clearly mulatto, his dark locks were
in tight curls close to his scalp.  The other looked almost Asian, with
almond eyes.  His hair was short and straight.

"Sammie, watch out for Mom.  She's...uh...who's that?" The older boy
spoke quickly, his voice deep and husky.

"A friend from school.  He's going to help me with some homework," Sam
replied.  "Go back in your rooms and stay there until dinner, okay?
Stay away from...you know..."

"But you never bring friends home," the younger boy blurted.  His voice
was higher than his brother's, but very clear.

"I did today.  Now get!"  The two boys disappeared and the door closed.

She opened the other door on the left and called in.  "Betsy, Mary.
I'm home.  I'll fix dinner a little later.  Just stay in your rooms for
now, okay?"

I heard muffled acceptances beyond the door and Sam closed it quietly.
She opened the door on the left and pulled me inside.

The room was small, but clean.  The walls had large cracks in the
plaster and some pieces were missing completely.  It had been painted a
light blue at one time, but the blue had long since faded into an
almost dingy gray.  Some curtains hung on a window on the far wall, but
you could barely see anything out that window.

Likewise, the furniture was poor but well kept.  There was no proper
bed, just two mattresses lying on the floor in the corner.  It was made
with two pillows and some threadbare blankets covering it.  She had a
folding chair sitting at a table made of what looked like a door on
some milk crates.  There were knickknacks and other things in the milk
crates and a small lamp sitting on the makeshift table.

"So now you know," Sam said quietly.  I turned and looked at her and
could not believe the terror that was etched on her face.  She suddenly
looked old, far older than the 14 or 15 years she had lived.  She
waited on me to say something, but I didn't know what to say.

"Your father?" I questioned quietly, trying to think of something to
calm her.

"Gone.  Ran off.  I've never known him, though I've known the fathers
of some of the other kids."

"And your mom is..." I started, but she interrupted me.

"Drunk or high most of the day," she said matter of factly.  The look
of terror still did not leave her face.  "Out at night...sometimes all
night, sometimes only a while.  Partying or...hooking...mostly."

I was quiet then.  I didn't know what to say and worried that anything
I did say would be the wrong thing.  My parents had money; my dad owned
his own construction business and my mom was a public accountant for a
law firm.  I'd heard of people living like this, but I'd never actually
seen it.  It had always been an "other people" thing as in it only
happened to other people, not people I knew.

Her face fell.  "I'll walk you out," she said in a quiet voice.  "I'm
sorry..."

Damn.  In being silent for so long she took it as some kind of
rejection.  I may have lived in the well-off section of town, but I
wasn't a snob...much.  And I certainly would never reject someone just
because of what they had...or didn't have, in this case.

"Aren't we going to study?" I asked quickly as she opened the door.

"Well...I...uh...didn't think...you know...that you'd want to be here
after..."

"Sam," I started, unsure of what I was going to say but knowing I
needed to say something.  "This house isn't who you are.  It's where
you live.  I don't care where you live.  I would like to know who you
are, though."  I was being sincere.  Sam and I weren't friends - she
had never let me close enough to be friends - but I could never treat
anyone badly just because their parents didn't have much money.

Her face lit up in a smile.  "Really?"

"Really."

"Um," she started, a happy little twinkle evident in her voice.  "I
only have the one chair, but we could...well...sit on the bed."  She
looked up at me, her face still facing the floor.  I'm not sure she
realized how attractively coy that look was or how it affected me.  All
I knew was that I needed to sit down quickly or else she was going to
see the tent in my pants.

"Sure."  I took off my coat and seated myself on the bed.  Pulling my
book bag open, I reached in for my algebra book.  "We should start on
page 58 and do those problems.  Then we can do some History, okay?"

"Okay," she grabbed her book from her book bag and sat timidly just as
far away from me as she could.  She started flipping through the pages,
when she turned to me.  "Brian?"

"Yeah?" I replied, already beginning to work on the problem in my head.

"Thanks."  Her voice was a soft whisper.

"For what?"

"For not...running away or something...for tutoring me and stuff."  Her
voice was still in a whisper but I could tell that this was very
important for her.

I just smiled at her.  "Nothing to thank me for, Sam."

As time passed, she began to open up to me.  In class, in the halls,
she was still the terror-filled girl she had always been but when we
were working in the library, at her house, or during one of the few
times she came to my house - she couldn't come to my house very often
because she had to be home for her brothers and sisters - she was open
and at ease.  It was a good change.

Her life at home, though, didn't get any better.  In some ways, it got
worse.

Sam always rushed me up to her room before her mother could say more
than a few words.  For a long time, her mother refrained from climbing
the stairs.  I guess, because it never happened, I just assumed that
for some reason her mother couldn't follow us.  It wasn't long before I
was proved very wrong.

It was a Monday night in late January and Sam and I were sitting on her
bed studying.  She had only recently gotten comfortable enough around
me to sit next to me.  She sat close, our arms often touching, and she
seemed so happy.

I found, at moments like these, that she was both funny and endearing.
She had a dry wit that often had me on the verge of tears from
laughing.  She seemed so alive, so full of life, I wondered how bad her
life must have been to force her to become the scared lamb that I had
first met.

Without warning, her bedroom door slammed open and her mother stood
there in a blind fury.  "WHAT'S GOIN' ON UP HERE?!?"

Sam nearly dove off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud.  I was
just too startled to even move.

"You given it up for free, you slut?" her mother screamed at her.  She
walked towards Sam's cowering form threateningly.  "You can help pay
the fucking bills, bitch!"

I didn't know what to do but I couldn't let anything happen to Sam.
She was, I was startled to realize, my friend.  I had to do something
to help.

I stood up and moved to get between her and her mother.  "Just calm
down, Mrs. Kothari.  We're just stud..."

"Get the fuck out of my way, you little pissant!"  She screamed at me,
but I wasn't moving.  She swung at me but the drugs and alcohol had
rotted away whatever muscles she had once possessed.  I easily blocked
her punches and slaps.

When she realized I wasn't going to let her get to Sam, she backed up.
Her breath was coming in wheezes and gulps as she eyed me with barely
contained fury.  Slowly, her rage was replaced with a vicious,
calculating look.

"So.  How much you got?" she sneered at me.

"What?"  I wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"Money.  How much you got?"  I just stared at her, unable to believe
she was asking me this.  Behind me, I heard Sam's startled gasp.
"Well, if you're going to make time with my little girl, you got to pay
for the privilege, big shot.  Now, time is money...so how much you
got?"

I was in a bad dream and had no idea how to get myself out.  I reached
for my wallet in a daze, not quite able to believe what was happening
here.  I pulled it out of my back pocket, but a hand grabbed my wrist
before I could bring it in front of me.

"No...god no..." Sam whispered at me, tears dripping with every word.
I turned to her and my heart broke.  She was sobbing uncontrollably,
tears streaming down her face.  "Just go, Brian.  Please...don't do
this.  Just go."

"I can't leave you," I whispered, tears began to fill my eyes as well.
It was true; I was worried what would happen if I were to leave.

"Shut the fuck up and give me that wallet!"  Her mother grabbed at my
arm, but I just pulled away from her.  She didn't expect it and fell
onto Sam's bed.

"YOU LITTLE FUCKING BASTARD!" she screamed at me in a high wailing
voice, struggling to get up.

"Just go, Brian.  Please!  I can handle this.  Just go!"  Sam picked up
my bag and pushed me out the bedroom door, closing it behind me.

I stood outside the door for a minute, listening to the screaming and
wondering if I shouldn't get in there to help Sam.  In the end, though,
this was her mother and she'd been protecting herself all her life.  As
I turned to walk down the stairs and leave, I watched as both of the
doors across the hall quickly closed themselves.

I waited for Sam at the front doors the following morning, but she
didn't show.  The Paul Posse did, though, but even their taunts and
pushing didn't bother me so much.  I was too worried.

I half expected her to come walking through the door at the beginning
of algebra, but she didn't.  I don't think I heard a single word Mr. M
said during that class.  All I could think of was Sam.  Whether she was
okay or not, whether I should tell a counselor or the police.  I
couldn't think of what to say or do...and I was terribly worried.

I almost decided to skip my 3rd hour chemistry class and walk to her
house but I didn't.  I kept thinking about how stupid I'd feel if she
just were sick or something.  I admit it, I was a mess.  I wasn't
thinking straight and I knew it.

I felt like the whole day was crushing me under it.  I didn't realize
how much worse things could get.

At fourth hour, I caught Evie as she walked through the door of the
lunchroom.  "Hey.  You think we could get a table alone today?"

For the first time that I can remember, Evie didn't look particularly
happy to see me.  She looked at me for a moment, then sighed.  "Yeah.
I think we'd better."

I caught the sign right away.  It was not good news.  The only thing I
could think of was that she had heard about something happening to Sam.

As we walked through the lunch line together, I was desperate to ask
what she knew but there were too many people around.  Actually, I was
surprised Evie knew anything at all.  She had gone out with her folks
the night before, so I hadn't had a chance to even talk to her about
what had happened with Sam's mother.

Maybe if I had been less worried about Sam, I would have realized that
Evie wasn't saying anything either.

We sat at down in one corner of the long lunch room.  For a few
moments, neither of us said a word though we weren't eating either.  It
was just an uncomfortable silence that wouldn't go away.

Finally, the uncomfortable silence grew to be too much for me.  "So?
What's up?"

Evie looked at her tray for a few moments.  I think I knew then that
what was coming was going to be real bad.  Evie and I had never had
problems talking to one another.

"I'm...uh...dating," Evie started, but she wouldn't look at me.

This wasn't what I was expecting and I was stunned for a moment.  Then
I realized that I had been so caught up in my life I hadn't even
thought that Evie might want to talk to me about hers.

"That's great, Eve!" I said with a forced smile, but I wasn't sure I
really meant it.  For some reason, something inside of me wasn't too
happy about the news so I wasn't as enthusiastic as I should have been.
Still, I tried to look encouraging.

"Thanks," she grinned at me but the grin never touched her eyes.

"Is it someone I know?"

"Um...yeah," she started, but she stopped for a few minutes.
"You...uh...know Paul Mathews, right?"

Time stopped.  I flat-out KNEW that at any moment she was going to jump
up and laugh at me.  She was going to quit looking so serious, she was
going to tell me it was all a big joke.  But she didn't and it wasn't.

"You...and Paul Mathews?"  I looked at her like she was some alien
thing I had never seen before.  Maybe she was talking about a different
Paul Mathews.  "You mean THE Paul Mathews?"

"Look, he asked me out last Friday.  I was going to tell him no...I
actually did tell him no at first...but he was so funny.  I was
laughing and the next thing I know, I said yes."

"Friday?  FRIDAY??  And you're just telling me this today?  What about
all those times we talked over the weekend?"

"I didn't know how to tell you over the weekend.  I tried a couple of
times, but I didn't know what to say - and you were so caught up in
Samantha Kothari.  Believe me, I wanted to tell you!"

"You couldn't tell me?  What's so hard about it??  'Gee, Brian.  I
wanted to tell you that I'm dating the guy who has single-handedly made
your life miserable for the last 7 years.  Sorry!'"

"Stop it!" Evie snapped at me, tears in her eyes.  "He's not that bad!"

"Not that bad?!  NOT THAT BAD?!?" My voice was rising and people around
us were starting to look.  I didn't care.  Of all the people in my
life, Evie was the one person I would never have expected to betray me.
"Are you the same person who sat on my porch with me as I nursed the
black eye he gave me in 3rd grade?  Are you the same person who
consoled me all of 5th grade because he started a rumor that I was gay?
I STILL haven't lived that down!"

"That was years ago, Brian..." she started, but I was on a roll and
wouldn't let her finish.

"YEARS AGO?  He fucking tripped me on the first day of school THIS
YEAR!"

"I'm sure that was an accident!"

"Oh yeah...and this morning he *accidentally* pushed me into the side
of the school.  You can't do this to me!  You can't go out with HIM,
Evie!"

She looked as if I'd slapped her as she drew herself up to her full
height.  "You don't get to make those decisions for me, Brian!  At
least he has the balls to ask a girl out!"

I stood, my fury towering within me.  "Fine," I hissed through clenched
teeth.  "I can't be friends with anyone who'd date him so if you're
dating him, we can't be friends any more!  Which is it going to be??"

Her eyes opened wide and for a moment she couldn't speak.  "You've
changed, Bri," she said with a deathly calm and quiet.  "If you were
really my friend, you wouldn't even ask me to choose like that."  She
gathered her tray and walked away.  I just sat down and stared at my
food angrily, my hunger completely forgotten.

As I made my way out of the lunch room, though, the other problem I had
came back to mind.  I still didn't know what to do about Sam and
without Evie as a sounding board, I'd have to get through this one on
my own.  I guess I would just have to pray she was okay.  If she didn't
show up tomorrow, I'd go talk to one of the counselors.

I walked home by myself, Evie behind me most of the way.  Usually, we'd
have walked together and then sat talking on one of our porches.  Not
any more, though.  Those days were over.  She'd made her bed and now
she could lie in it.

My parents could tell I was in a mood as soon as I walked through the
door so they just let me be.  My parents were actually very cool.  They
expected me to do my chores and my homework but as long as they knew
where I was and what I was doing, they pretty much let me live my life.
They weren't aloof, though.  They made sure I knew that if I needed I
could talk to them.  If I stewed too long about something, they'd
eventually have a talk with me anyway to help clear things up.

So, it was with some surprise that my mom interrupted my homework about
7pm.

"Hey, Bri.  You have a visitor."

When I looked up, Sam was walking in the room looking more than a
little scared.

"SAM!"  I was out of my chair in moments, but I stopped short of
hugging her in relief when I remembered my mom was in the room.

"Hi, Bri," she just whispered.  There was a misery in her voice that
caused me to begin worrying all over again.  "Can we talk??"

"Bri, your dad and I are going next door for some cards," my mom said
with a smile.  "Why don't you join us after you get done tutoring?"

I turned to my mom.  "I...uh...don't think that's a good idea, mom.
I've got a lot of homework to do."

"Are you sure?" Mom looked pretty surprised.  I couldn't blame her; I
don't think I've ever turned down going over to visit Evie before.  Of
course, with Evie and me arguing I really couldn't go over but I didn't
want my mom to know that.

"Yeah.  I'll be fine."

"Okay.  Be careful, Okay?  And don't keep Sam out too late."

"'k"  I turned to Sam as my mom closed the door.

"Are you all right?" I asked her, looking her over to make sure there
were no bruises.

"Yeah.  No.  I don't know."  She crossed the room and sat on my bed.
Then she broke down in tears.

I didn't know what to do so I sat next to her and put my arms around
her.  She turned into me, burying her face in my chest, and just kept
crying.

I tried to comfort her, stroking her hair and holding her against me.
I'd dreamed of holding her in my arms, of course, but this wasn't quite
what I'd hoped for.

"She...kept me home from school today," Sam whispered through the sobs.
She didn't mention her name, but I knew she was talking about her
mother.  "She grilled me about us...about you and I.  Kept asking if
we'd had sex or not.  I kept telling her no, but she kept asking over
and over, like she didn't believe me.  I've never seen her like that
before."

"Then, she left for a while.  I was going to come right over here
because I knew that you'd be worried but I didn't know how long she'd
be gone.  So I stayed.  It was a good thing, because she wasn't long."

For a few minutes, Sam couldn't talk.  She just sat there, clutching
me, crying.

"She wasn't alone.  She came home with this man...I'd never seen him
before.  She said...she said...." Sam couldn't go on.  She was crying
hard into my chest now.

"It's okay, Sam," I whispered to her.  "We'll figure something out."

"No," she spoke between sobs.  "You don't understand.  She...my
mom...that bitch...she...so...sold...sold...she sold him my virginity!"

I was stunned.  Her words weren't registering in my brain any longer.
How could any parent be so cruel?

"She told me," she began, her words starting and stopping
uncontrollably.  "She said...if I was going to act like a slut...I had
to start paying my own way...the man had given her two hundred dollars
to...to....to take...to sleep with me..."

A sick thought crossed my mind.  "You...uh...you didn't..." but I
couldn't finish.  It really didn't matter and I really didn't want to
know.  She answered anyway.

"God no," she pulled herself away from my chest and looked into my
eyes.  I couldn't believe how red and puffy her eyes were.  "I pushed
him and ran out the door.  I ran as fast as I could.  I didn't really
know where I was going...until I got to your door..."

I hugged her to me, trying to figure out what I was going to say or do.
"We'll figure something out."

I just sat and held her for a while.  Irrationally, the only thing I
could think of was that Evie would know what to do.  But Evie was gone;
out of my life by her own choice.  So I was stuck trying to decide
about the best course of action and scared into immobility with the
fear I'd make the wrong decision.

Eventually, Sam's crying slowed and stopped.  Once again she pulled
back and looked up at me, a crazy mixture of fear and determination on
her face.

"Brian," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.  "I...uh...I
want...I mean, why don't we...you and I...well...will you sleep, you
know, with me?"

"What?" I was stunned.  We'd never kissed, never even held hands -
hell, we barely even touched each other before and now she was asking
me to have sex with her?

"I've, you know, seen how you look at me," she started.  "I know...I've
always known, that you wanted more than just friendship.  I wanted
more, too.  Why do you think I asked you to tutor me instead of
requesting a regular tutor?"  Our school had a tutoring program set up
where qualified juniors and seniors were given credit for tutoring
struggling freshmen and sophomores.  In the back of my mind, I'd always
wondered why she'd picked me and not the tutoring program.  Since I
wanted to be with her, I'd never really examined the thought too
closely.

"This isn't right, Sam," I began, still holding her.  "I don't want you
to do something you'll regret just because..."

"I won't regret it," she interrupted me.  "How could I regret it??
I've wanted you almost from the time you started tutoring me.  I
just...I couldn't, you know.  I didn't want to become like my mom..."

"But what's changed?  I don't want you to do something because you're
afraid that your mom..."

"I'm not," she interrupted.  "When I ran today I finally realized that
I was nothing like her...because I was able to run away and she
wouldn't have been.  I don't know what to do, Brian, but I know this.
I want YOU to be my first.  No one else and certainly not some
horrible...stranger.  I've thought of nothing else for the past couple
of months.  There have been so many times when we were studying at my
house or over here when I just wanted to tackle you to the bed and rip
off your clothes.  I would be so sick because I was afraid I was
becoming my mother, unable to control my desires.  But I have
controlled them.  I don't want to any more."

She took my head in her hands and pulled me closer.  "I want this.  I
need this.  Please don't turn me away."

In the next moment our lips met and I lost my ability to argue.
Instead, I pulled her closer, holding her as near to me as I could get
her.  I slowly kissed all around her face, trying to kiss the tears
away.  Then I returned my lips to hers.

She pushed against me and I let her, our bodies falling to lie on the
bed.  Our mouths opened and our tongues dueled against each other.

I ran my hand over her back, lightly touching her, and she shivered in
my grasp.  My hand stroked lower, over her lower back and finally over
her butt, and she moaned into my mouth.  Slowly, I drew my hand back up
her side, wondering at the feel of her, the weight of her lying on top
of me.  After all this time imagining being with her, though, it just
wasn't enough.

I broke the kiss and bent my head to her neck, my lips grazing at her
flesh.  I had never actually been with a girl before but, in typical
nerd fashion, I had read about it in anatomy books and porn magazines.
I knew basically what parts were where and what to do with them but
there's a big difference between reading and practical application.
So, I did what I read and used her reactions to guide me to what was
right.

As I nuzzled her neck, she shivered again.  Every time my hand traced
down her back to her ass and back up her sides, she moaned in pleasure.
Finally, though, I knew that I had to move farther.

I rolled us over until I was on top.  I pulled back from her neck,
softly grinding my hard cock into her in the process, and looked at her
face for a moment.  Her eyes were closed but there was the hint of a
smile teasing the edges of her mouth.  Time to take the next step.

I rolled onto my side and her eyes fluttered open in a question.  I
answered by lightly running my hand down to her hip and then up her
front, crossing over her breast.  I didn't linger but I had an effect.

"Oh, God..." she moaned, her eyes closing again.  I just smiled to
myself.  I ran my hands back down and then up, crossing her breast
again, and received a warm moan for my trouble.

She sat up, her hands going to the hem of her t-shirt.  With a slow,
seductive twist she pulled it over her head with a smile.  She turned
to look at me coyly, reached back and undid her bra.  "No stopping now,
I guess," she whispered.  She stopped for a moment, gathering her
courage.  Then she removed the bra.

Her breasts were beautiful, flushed and taut.  Larger than a grapefruit
with small, pert nipples; I felt my mouth water.  Slowly, her eyes
holding my own, she lay back down.

To my credit, I didn't go straight for her breast.  As I was doing
earlier, I ran my hand down the side of her to her hip and then ran it
back up the front, my hand crossing over her hard, elongated nipple.

"Yes!" she moaned, but I didn't linger.  I ran my hand down between her
two breasts, straight down to her belly button, and then very slowly
back up to her other breast, again crossing over her nipple.  "Uh!" she
gasped.

I continued like that, alternating between her two supple mounds, and
each time I was rewarded with a moaning gasp.  After I was sure she was
aware of and comfortable with my rhythm, I took it a step further.  On
my upward stroke of her far breast I bent my head down and took her
nipple gently between my lips.

"AIEEE!" she cried, her arm going to the back of my head and pressing
my lips into her breast.  "Yes.  God.  Like that!"

I suckled on her nipple, stopping my other hand at her other breast,
and slowly traced my middle finger around that nipple.  The taste of
her skin was salty and warm.  The smell of her filled me and I was in
heaven.  There was more, though.

I heard a zipper and looked down.  Her jeans were unbuttoned and she
was slowly unzipping herself.  I watched, fascinated, as she finished,
but my mouth never left her breast.  As the zipper reached its final
destination, I flicked my tongue over her nipple.  "AAAaaaa" she cried.

Her hand left my head and went to the waistband of her jeans.  As she
slowly wriggled to pull them down, I moved my hand slowly over her
stomach.  As her jeans succumbed to their slow journey over her hips,
my hand reached her navel.  As she scissored her legs to push her jeans
past her knees, my fingertips reached the soft curls of her pubic hair.
As her jeans fell off her feet, my fingers lightly traced down her
nether lips.

"Fuck yeah!" she whispered.  "God, more..."

I was in no hurry, though.  I wanted to relish my first time.  I wanted
to remember it and not rush through.  Though my cock ached in my jeans,
I remembered all of the stories and articles I had ever read.  The
likelihood of my lasting more than seconds when the time came was
miniscule...and I really wanted her to go off at least one time before
then.

Her pussy was very wet as I kept rubbing up and down her lips.  I made
sure to continue licking softly across the hardness of her nipple as I
slowly entered her with my digit.

"AAAAAAA!" she screamed as my thumb came in contact with the hard nub
of her clit.  I continued slowly moving my finger in and out of her.
Every now and then I'd lightly flip my thumb against her clit.  I made
sure not to get into a rhythm, to keep her constantly guessing about
what I was doing and that worked to a point but it didn't send her over
the edge.

I slowly sped up, trying to bring her off, but she just wouldn't go
over.  I felt her hand on the back of my head, holding me against her
breast.  Her breathing was coming in gasps, ragged and uneven.  I
concentrated my thumb more on her clit and her moans told me I was
going in the right direction but it still wasn't enough.

I'd read of a way that was supposed to be easier to bring a girl off
but I was more than a bit scared.  Still, I wasn't sure of what else to
do.  So, I swallowed my fear and moved myself down Sam's torso.

I licked lightly down her stomach.  Slowly, I lowered myself down her
body.  My tongue led the way, slowly traveling down over her hips.  Her
legs were bent over the edge of my bed so as I moved even lower, I had
to get down on the floor next to the bed.

"Brian?  What are you..."  But I answered her as I pushed her legs
slightly further apart.  I took a moment to savor my first close-up
look between a girl's legs.

I was mesmerized.  The sight of it, the gentle smell of her arousal,
held me spellbound.  She had a soft, sparse growth of dark curls
surrounding her sex, but I could see the engorged lips of her treasure
peeking out.  I hesitated only a moment before her soft scent lured me
to her.

The first touch of my tongue to her nether lips was electric for both
of us.  "OHMYGOD!  Yes!  OHGODOHGODOHGOD!!"  She moaned, and her hips
came up off the bed.

I didn't expect that move, so I was doubly surprised when my tongue
entered her.  The taste, though, was heavenly.  It was a soft sweet
cream that gathered on my tongue like drops of dew.  A sudden
compulsion came over me and I devoured her.

My tongue flicked up and down her lips, trying desperately to capture
her every drop.  I alternated these up and down licks with a quick
thrust into her.  I was grateful when her hips started rocking back and
forth in time to my tongue's ministrations.

I received my biggest reward, however, when I flicked my tongue further
up and came in contact with her clit.

"OHMYFUCKINGGOD!  OHMYFUCKINGGODOHMYFUCKINGGOD," she screamed, her
hands moving to the back of my head and pulling me into her pussy.  I
caught on and wrapped my lips around her clit.  I barely had time to
flick my tongue against it when she finished her journey.

Her hips bucked up at my face and she shuddered against me.  Her hands
were claws trying to pull me further and further into the junction of
her legs.  The best part, though, was the steady flow of juice coming
out of her pussy.  The second best was her moaning screams.

"GODGODGODGODGOD!!  SoGood! It's so fucking good!  Your tongue!  Your
fucking tongue.  EAT IT!  EAT IT!  GOD Please don't stop eating my
pussy!"

She shook and shimmied.  She flopped and thrust.  Through it all,
though, I made sure my lips never left her lower ones.  After all of
that, I was not going to allow a drop of her tangy juice to escape me.

Finally, though, she began to come down.  So I started licking her
again slowly.  I reached up and pushed a finger into her as my tongue
licked up and down her lips.

"What, Brian...no...come up here babeeeeeeEEEE!"  Her words said one
thing, but her hands pulling me down into her wonderful pussy told me
something else.  As I felt the unmistakable signs of her arousal
increasing again, I moved my lips to the engorged nub of her clit.  I
took it between my lips lightly, and then used my tongue to flick at
it.  With each flick, I pushed my finger into her and then back out.  I
started slowly, and then gradually increased my tempo until she was
cumming once again.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAA"

As she was coming back down, I quickly undressed and moved myself over
her.  I knew that the first time was going to be painful and I wanted
to begin before she came back fully from her last orgasm.

I moved above her, using one hand to rub the head of my cock in her
juices.  When the crown was sufficiently lubricated I slowly pushed at
the juncture of her legs.

For several minutes I pushed into her, but it wouldn't fit; I was too
large to fit inside of her.  I kept up the pressure as I watched her
return.  I still hadn't entered her when her breathing had become more
regular and her eyelids started fluttering.

I was just about to stop, to give up, when she gave way and the head of
my member entered her.

Her eyelids opened in surprise and I could see some fear in her look.

"We can stop," I heard myself saying, though I was silently screaming
to go on.  "We don't have to do this..."

"Yes.  Yes you do," she whispered with a smile.  "Because if you don't
put that big thing all the way up inside of me I don't think I'll ever
forgive you."

"It's going to hurt," I warned, but she just placed her hands on either
side of my face.

"You're right, but it's going to hurt if you do it now or you do it
later.  I vote for now."

Her argument made sense to me, so slowly pushed myself forward.  I
hadn't gone more than an inch when I encountered the barrier of her
hymen.  I looked a question into her eyes and they told me to continue.

I went as slowly as I could, pressing hard.  I wanted to minimize the
pain; I knew I couldn't completely eliminate it.  Still, I was
unprepared for her cry of pain when her hymen broke.

I stopped, waiting.  Her face was clenched and a lone tear rolled down
her cheek.

"Are you okay?"  I asked softly.  She just looked at me and gave me a
courageous little smile.

"Yes.  Just...go slow, okay?"

I pushed slowly, inch by inch of my cock entering her.  She was so
tight the pleasure was almost painful.  I wasn't extremely large, but I
was a bit larger than average.  About 8 1/2" (what guy HASN'T measured
his organ), but I was pretty thick.  I had no live basis of comparison,
only what I'd read, but I knew that I wasn't small.

Finally, my pubic bone came to rest against hers and I was all the way
in.

"God, Brian.  You're...you're all the way inside of me.  I feel so
full.  Give me a second...I need to get used to this..."

"No pain?" I asked, a little part of me worried.

"No.  It's...god....it's glorious...  You can start now, just go slow,
okay?"

So I did.  I pulled myself out of her, still marveling at how tight and
wet she felt.  When only the head was in, I pushed myself back in.
When I bottomed out, I started sliding back out.  I was getting close,
though.  I knew I wouldn't last long.  I needed something to distract
me.

"This is...kinda like...shampooing, isn't it?" I grunted, my face
turned up into a grin.

"What...oh god....do you mean?"

"Well, like the instructions on the shampoo bottle.  Insert, extract,
repeat."  I chuckled.

Her laugh, though, filled her entire body doing incredible things with
her cunt muscles.  Instead of distracting me, the ripples of her
laughter put me over the edge.

"Oh god!" My mouth joined with hers and I moaned into her mouth.
"Cummmming" I called, muffled.

I collapsed on top of her and she just cooed in my ear.  I don't know
how long I lay like that, but it couldn't have been more than a few
minutes.  Then, realizing I was probably crushing her, I rolled back
onto my side, my semi-hard cock pulling out of her with a squish.

We lay like that for a few minutes, gathering our breath.  I wrapped
her in my embrace and pulled her to me.  She sighed contentedly and
cuddled into me.  Everything felt so right, so perfect.  I couldn't
have better scripted my first time if I'd tried.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+