Her fingers stroked me through the denim, squeezed around the length of me, and she squirmed. “Oh God… I want to see…”
“Soon,” I said. I kissed my way down her belly, pulling from her grip, and my fingers worked the buttons on her jeans. She sucked in her breath as I pulled them from under her, slipping them down her thighs and off with her ballet pumps. She was wearing white, and in the light I could see the promise of her wispy hair. She was wet. Her thighs were hot and clammy. She was shaking as I hooked my fingers inside the fabric, let out a gasp as I peeled them down. She wriggled until they were around her thighs, and her face bloomed deliciously. I breathed on her, teasing her sweet * with nothing but air.
She moaned as I pulled her panties down further, until they slipped from her feet. I pressed my hands against her thighs, kneading her flesh and coaxing her wide. Her hair was darker than on her head, but not by much, leading into dainty * lips, swollen pink for me. I spread her with my fingers, and she started then relaxed. Her clit was hard and tender, her * glistening. I ran my thumb around her, so gently, touching everywhere but her clit until her breath was ragged.
“Please…” she whispered.
“You have a beautiful *, Helen.”
“Please touch me…”
I ran my tongue along her wetness, giving her clit just the lightest stroke. She jolted like she’d been shocked, and her hands reached down and held me to her. And then I kissed her, sucked her, moved my tongue back and forth in slow, wet strokes until she was moving with me. I wet my finger and pushed one inside, but she was tight, really tight. She caught her breath.
“Relax,” I said. “It’s ok. Just nerves.” I looked up at her. “Helen, look at me.” Slowly her eyes met mine and she was beautiful. My beautiful girl.
“Just relax,” I said. “Enjoy it.”
I worked my fingers so slowly, teasing another inside, but she was so tight I couldn’t push all the way in. I used my mouth, tickling and sucking in a steady rhythm until I felt the tension leave her. She began to grind at my face, but I didn’t speed up, just kept my movements steady, enjoying the sweet taste of her, the feel of her soft skin, the tickle of her hair against my nose.
It took a long time, but every moment of it was beautiful. She crested without dramatics, a delicate gasp of breath and her muscles tensed. I could feel the tightness in her belly, her urgent fingers gripping at my scalp. She twitched and arched her back just a little, and her feet pressed against my back, but there was no breathless exclamation, no bucking and groaning and begging for more.
She caught her breath, and she was smiling, and my hands were at my belt, sliding my jeans down. Her eyes grew wide as she felt my cock against her skin.
“Are you on the pill?” I said.
She shook her head. “No… not yet…”
Shit. She must have seen the disappointment in my eyes, and her hands reached for me, snaked between us and squeezed my cock to hold me there. “But I can… I can go to the chemist… there is a pill I can take.” She looked so nervous. “Please…”
I nudged my cock to the wetness of her. “You’re sure? I can stop.”
“No, please…”
I pushed against her and she was so tight she barely opened for me. I groaned, and my cock twitched and jerked. “Relax, Helen. Let me in…”
I kissed her mouth and pushed a little harder, and her * stretched around me just enough for the tip. I pushed a little more and she tensed up, her whole body tense. “Ow…” she breathed.
I stopped moving. “It’s ok. Just relax.”
She screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip, and squeaked as I pushed in again, and something was off, something was very off.
“Helen… are you ok?”
I hovered above her, staring until she opened her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m really good.” But she squeaked again and gripped my thigh with her fingers. “Just please… go slow… go really slow…”
I was going slow. Slower than I’d ever gone. And then it dawned.
“You’ve done this before, yes?”
No answer.
“Helen, have you done this before?”
She turned her face away from me and her expression said it all.
The air left my lungs, and she was a little girl again. A little girl in a sweet white bra on the school stage about to be fucked by a teacher twenty years her senior. It made me feel sick. Sick with myself.
“I thought you said there’d been others. Boyfriends?”
She covered her face in mortification. “There were…”
“But you didn’t…?”
Her lip trembled when she answered me. “I was… I was nine… we didn’t…”
Oh sweet Christ. I pulled away. Quickly. My fingers shook as I pulled my jeans back up. “Christ, Helen. I’m so sorry.”