Cherry Chapstick

Gareth was just hanging out at the party, minding his own business, when suddenly there was a sexy girl sitting in his lap.

Lucy had strode over, flipped her skirt as she straddled him (flashing her lacy thong at him as she did so), tossed her hair and looked him straight in the eye. "Bet you can't guess what flavour my chapstick is," she flirted.

Their eyes met - Gareth's flashed wide, like a deer caught in the headlights; Lucy's sparkling with mischief, eyebrow raised in a silent dare.

Her full, lush lips pouted at him, the corners turned up in a wry knowing smile.

Only one way to find out, Gareth thought. Carpe diem. He wrapped his arms round her lower back, pulled her to him, and captured her lips between his, running his tongue across and between them.

Cherry. Thought so.

Her lips parted, and he slid his tongue in, exploring her mouth as she sucked gently on it. One hand found its way onto her hair, caressing the back of her neck as he tasted deeper. Her legs wrapped round the back of the chair, pulling her closer, her pussy now riding his crotch. Gareth's free hand found the soft heaviness of her breast, his thumb flicking over her pierced nipple.

Lucy could feel the pulse beating in his surprisingly thick cock as it pushed against her. A pulse racing at a million miles per hour. Need flooded her as her tongue danced with his. His pulse intensified as his body twitched under her.

The outside world crashed back in. Cheers and wolf whistles called them back to reality. Abruptly they broke apart. Now it was Lucy's eyes that widened in surprise, Gareth's with an intense predatory gleam.

"What... the fuck..." she breathed.

"Cherry," he breathed.

She looked at him, stunned. "I... need a drink..." she muttered, and stood abruptly, backing away. Was that a damp patch in her knickers I saw, Gareth wondered? Then she was gone in a whirlwind of girl gossip.

///

Earlier that evening...

Lucy knocked back another vodka shot and slammed the empty glass onto the kitchen worktop, just beating her besties to it. "You're such bad influences," she giggled.

"I didn't hear you moaning earlier," Claire said.

"Maybe later though!" laughed Stella.

Lucy gave her a playful jab in the ribs. "Yeah, but with who? These guys from school are such losers."

"Brad's fit," Stella suggested.

"Brad's a grade one slimeball," Lucy countered. "I swear, if that neanderthal grabs my arse one more time, I'm gonna break his fucking hand off. Stupid twat can't get it through his thick skull that I am not his property."

Claire nodded. Brad's attentions were somewhat indiscriminate.

"Still, could be worse," Stella said nodding across the room towards the loner sitting on a dining room chair on the other side of the room.

"Oh please. Anything's better than Greaseball," Claire agreed.

"I heard he's gay, anyway," Stella noted.

Lucy followed their eyeline. Gareth sat slumped on a dining chair on the other side of the room, nursing what appeared to be a rum and coke. She'd noticed him a few times this evening, increasingly staring at her with a weird look in his eyes and an odd expression. A bit like the way the tiger looks at you through the bars of its cage. Which made no sense because Gareth was the wettest, limpest boy Lucy knew.

He hadn't always been like that though. They'd been childhood friends, grew up together as their families were close. There had even been a time, a couple of years ago, when Lucy had developed a bit of an obsession about him. But he hadn't picked up on her hints, so soon enough she directed her flirtations elsewhere.

"No," she said. "I don't think that's it..."

"What d'you think he'd do if one of us came on to him?" Claire wondered.

"Probably piss his pants."

"Dare you," Stella challenged Lucy.

"Seriously?"

Stella started to push Lucy across the room. "Come on, it'll be funny."

Lucy didn't see the humour in bullying one of their classmates, but before she knew it she was standing in front of Gareth. A small crowd had gathered to watch. Never one to back out of a dare, and frankly happy to play up to being the centre of attention, she straddled him and lowered her peachy butt onto his lap, her boobs in danger of trapping his rapidly dropping jaw. She saw absolute terror in his eyes. Inside she was sympathetic, but she couldn't show weakness in front of her friends.

She slid her arms over his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck. "Bet you can't guess what flavour my chapstick is," she said. It was stupid, but it was all that came to mind on the spur of the moment. Would he take the hint and kiss her? A peck on the lips, just to get a little taste. Or maybe he'd sniff her mouth - a bit weird but she wouldn't put it past him. Or perhaps he'd just push her off and run away.

He hadn't moved; just sat, like a statue. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to respond.

She'd expected him to push her off. But she hadn't paid enough attention to that look in his eyes. A slight smirk gave her a moment's warning before his arms snaked round her hips and his hands grabbed her butt, sliding her further down onto his lap. His lips captured hers, tongue flicking across them to taste her mouth. Partly through surprise, partly long-unrequited need, her lips responded and invited his tongue inside. His hand ran up her side, cupped her breast, a thumb reaching round and brushing her nipple, her barbell piercing electrified at his touch which sent urgent signals straight down to her clit. Unconsciously she started to grind herself against him, rubbing over the impressive bulge in his trousers. She could feel his heartbeat, loud and pounding, against her chest, and against her pussy. God, she'd never wanted anybody as desperately as she did in that moment. Was it the booze, or the audience? Or was it something deeper - a desire for a geeky classmate that she'd suppressed in order to fit in and be cool?

Soon enough, his movements became erratic, and he broke off the kiss. He looked into her eyes, panic flaring in his own, as he panted short shallow breaths in time with the pulsing in his trousers.

Embarrassment, first or second hand she wasn't sure, flushed through her. Did I really just make him come? From a kiss?

The cheers of the crowd were cloying. There was no air! She needed to get away, calm herself. She made some terrible excuse, got up, and ran from the room.

///

His eyes had followed her round the party, full of regret, and hunger. She'd been my friend, once, he thought. My best friend. What happened to you? They'd drifted apart. He barely even knew her, now.

Yeah, but you still would though, wouldn't you, his cock called to him.

Well duh, of course. But I've got no chance. She has the pick of the boys. And me? I'm just the nerdy guy who can't even talk to her any more.

But then she was walking over to him, so close to him... and something deep inside just took over.

Yet, as suddenly as she'd jumped on his lap, she'd gone. He was still shaking from his orgasm as his senses started to return to normal. The room was full of people pointing, laughing, whistling. He hated being the centre of attention. And his lap felt... sticky. He had to go and find somewhere to get cleaned up. Maybe somewhere in this house there was a bathroom that wasn't full of his classmates getting off with each other.

What did she mean, she needed a drink? Did I taste that repulsive, he fretted, that she had to wash the taste of him away so desperately? Did she hate him, now? Had he moved too fast? He didn't regret anything - if that was going to be the only chance he ever got to kiss her, he had to literally grab it with both hands. Everyone hated him anyway, so what difference would it make? They could never take away that memory of her soft, curvaceous body pressed against his, of her mouth taking him inside.

"Hey, maggotcock, what the fuck d'you think you're doing with my girl?"

Big, strong hands grabbed him from behind, and he found himself nose-to-chin with Brad.

"She's not..." Gareth began, but that just earned him a heavy shove on the shoulder, sending him staggering back along the hallway.

"I didn't ask your opinion, buttwipe," he raged. "I asked you a fucking question. Who gave you permission to put hands on what's mine?"

Gareth had never stood up to Brad. He'd spent his life terrified of him. But the alcohol, and the fact he'd just come in the arms of the sexiest girl in the world, lent him a false confidence. "Fuck you, Brad. Lucy doesn't need your permission to flirt with whoever she wants."

"You little shit," Brad sneered, and Gareth's nose exploded.

He didn't know what had happened at first. One moment they were shouting in each other's faces, the next he was on the ground and there was blood everywhere - on the carpet, all over his shirt. Then his mouth filled with the taste of warm wet copper... and finally the pain. Oh, the pain...

"Get him out of here," Brad ordered his minions. Gareth felt hands under his arms as he was lifted to his feet and dragged to the front door. "Party's over, dickwad."

Gareth's jeans ripped at the knees as he hit the pavement. He turned his head to swear back at Brad and his cronies, but all he could do was watch the door slam in his face. He spat a mouthful of blood and saliva at it, clambered back to his feet, and started the long, lonely trudge back home.

///

Tempting though the vodka shots were right then, instead Lucy grabbed a pint mug and filled it with water. She downed that one, and another, seriously considering pouring the cold liquid over her face.

What the fuck just happened? Where dd that come from - his bravery, and her overwhelming lust? She'd practically dry-humped the poor guy to death, right there in front of all her classmates. Then when it reached its inevitable conclusion, she'd just left him there and run off.

Shit, she must have made him feel like scum. She had to apologise. She needed to find him, to talk to him.

To jump him, insisted her overstimulated pussy. It's time, I've waited long enough, I need to do what I was made for.

Lucy shook her head, trying to throw off the invasive thoughts. But she did need to find Gareth. She felt wretched.

God, where was he? Hiding out in the garden, perhaps? Room after room she sought him out, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A firm hand grabbed her butt. "You're welcome," Brad sneered. "Now how about a thank-you kiss?"

"Get your fucking hands off me, leech!"

"Hey, that's no way to show your appreciation for me taking out your trash. That dickwad won't be bothering you anymore," he retorted. His hand slipped round between her legs. "Well, look how wet you are for me," he growled, and started backing her towards the cupboard under the stairs. "I know just how you can thank me," he leered, putting his hands on her shoulders, pressing down to get her to kneel in front of him.

All the guys are the same. They only want one thing. They don't want me, don't care about my feelings or desires. They just want to fill my holes.

No. Not all guys. There's one guy I know who's not like that.

And I just humiliated him in front of the whole school.

"Where's Gareth?" she growled.

"In the gutter, where he belongs." Brad had a fist in her hair and dragged her head towards his crotch. With his other hand he unzipped himself and pulled out his cock. It stank of piss and smeg, and for such a big tough guy he was otherwise surprisingly average sized. Lucy gagged.

"You've teased me long enough, bitch. We both know you want it, so show me what a good little slut you are."

She tried to wriggle free, but his hand was too tight in her hair. There was only one thing she could do. She smiled up at him, opened her mouth, and took his rancid cock inside.

///

A lonely, despondent Gareth trudged the pavement towards home, trying to come to terms with what had happened that evening.

What had got into Lucy?

They'd been good enough friends back in junior school, but ever since the move up to high school she'd not wanted to talk to him any more. The more popular she got, the less she was interested in hanging out with him. The trouble was that Gareth had held a candle for her for so long that he'd got his fingers burned. He was so infatuated that no-one else would ever do. It seemed futile.

She was never mean to him, just a bit dismissive. Initially a brother vibe, later an ex vibe.

Until tonight.

Was it just a tease that got out of hand? She sure seemed to be into it while it was happening. With his eyes shut, he could still feel her legs wrapped round his waist and her perky boobs pressing against his chest. He could smell her perfume on him, feel her hair tickling his neck. And that flash of her underwear as she stood, the wet patch perhaps revealing her true feelings?

Gareth shook his head, trying to shake off the memory. It wasn't real, can't have been. Don't feed your sad obsession. More likely she'd got drunk with her friends, and they'd dared her to make a fool of him. And look how that had ended up - a broken nose, ripped jeans, blood all down his shirt. Humiliated, again. Maybe that was the goal. Maybe Lucy had caught him staring at her, had enough, and got Brad to beat him up to get rid of him.

Well, fuck them all. School would be over soon enough, and he'd never have to see any of them again. University was an opportunity to be a new person. He wasn't going to be nice, be a doormat, anymore. Nice guys finish last. Fuck nice guys. Or rather, no-one fucks nice guys. Time to be an asshole.

He was so wrapped up in his dark, depressed and angry thoughts, that he didn't hear Lucy running after him until she got a hand on his shoulder.

"Gareth, wait! Please, I need to talk to you!" She spun him around, saw the blood over his face, down his shirt. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to you?"

"Brad didn't like the show," he spluttered.

"Everyone's a critic", she replied, taking in the full extent of what had happened. "Oh god, your shirt... your jeans... I'm sorry..."

Gareth's ears pricked up at that. "Why are you sorry. It wasn't your fault. Was it?" A slight accusatory tone crept into his voice.

Lucy felt guilty. She hadn't considered the repercussions of her actions - of how Brad would react. "He's such an arsehole."

"Nobody touches his girl."

Lucy's voice turned to steel, to cold ice. "I am not his girl." She reached into her bag, pulled out some paper tissues. "Here, let's clean you up a bit." She dabbed at his face, and he winced. "Not broken, I don't think. But you are a mess. Look, I'm just round the corner. Let's get you off the streets and cleaned up. Mum and Dad are away so there won't be any awkward questions."

Maybe he was still dazed, but Gareth didn't really clock that the hottest girl in school had just invited him back to her place, where they'd both be alone.

"Well, after tonight, hopefully Brad gets the message that I'm not his plaything."

"Oh?"

So, Lucy explained what happened - how Brad, pumped up from beating on Gareth, had sought to take advantage of her. "But what he seemed to forget is that a girl's mouth is full of sharp pointy weapons."

"You bit him on the dick?"

"Too fucking right I did. I'd've ripped the fucking thing off if I could've. That should teach the knuckleheaded shit a lesson he won't forget. Maybe he'll think twice before attacking the next girl. He couldn't get away from me fast enough after that. So I bailed and hoped I'd catch up with you."

"Why?"

Lucy took in a deep breath. "I thought I owed you an apology. Or at least an explanation."

Gareth just let the silence hang, waiting for her to fill it.

"I... you..." she spluttered. "Look, I know we lost touch. We used to be such good friends, didn't we?"

"In a different life," Gareth agreed.

"I thought I wanted to be a different person when we came to high school. I was wrong to abandon you like that. I felt like I had to choose between my old life and a new one. I was stupid."

"No, you weren't", Gareth said, quietly, realising he'd just been thinking exactly the same about moving on to university. "I understand, really." He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"Then I saw the way you were looking at me, tonight. I'd never noticed it before. Maybe I hadn't wanted to. Or maybe you were a bit drunk, like I was, and couldn't hide it as well as normal." A beat. "How long have you fancied me?"

Gareth sighed. "Forever," he admitted. For as long as he knew what the difference between boys and girls meant, anyway.

"I didn't think I felt the same. But the truth is... well, is more complicated. I didn't think of you... that way. Not until tonight." She swallowed. "But actually, that's not really true either. I guess I always had, too. Other guys... well, they don't do it for me, y'know? Sure, they all fancy the hot chick. But they just want my body. They don't want the person inside. It took me a long time to realise that."

"Well, then I guess I need to be honest too," Gareth said, with a wry smile. "I kinda want you for your body as well."

Lucy laughed, nodded down at herself. "I should fucking think so too," she smirked. "But you know me, the real me underneath. The one I hide. I'm still that little girl you used to roam over the dales with, back in the day."

Gareth didn't quite know what to say to that. The silence stretched out, awkwardly.

"Anyway, this is me. Let's get you cleaned up." She unlocked the front door, and they went inside.

///

Hot water ran over his body, washing away the blood, the pain, the shame. He let it pound into his hair, onto his back, his chest, enjoying the sensation. Enjoying a few moments of privacy while he tried to process what Lucy had told him on the way home.

She was interested in him. Her. In him.

Brad must have punched me harder than I realised. Into another reality. Or at least giving me these weird dreams.

He soaped his hair, washed his face, his body. His hand lingered on his hardening manhood. Maybe a bit presumptuous, he thought, but if I'm gonna get lucky tonight then I suppose I'd better clean myself up. He made sure to do a really, really thorough job. Lost in the moment, in a daydream, it took him a while to realise he probably shouldn't just stand in her shower masturbating.

He turned off the water, towelled himself dry as best he could, and put on the fluffy towelling robe she'd left him. His clothes, such as they were, had been taken away and put in the washing machine, to try and rinse out the worst of the blood and grime before it stained them permanently. And the cum, he realised. Should I feel embarrassed about that? Too late now.

He made his way back downstairs to find Lucy sitting on the sofa, politely waiting for him, with a couple of glasses of wine on the coffee table.

"Thanks," he muttered, sitting at the other end of the sofa, partially facing her. He picked up the wine, gulped nervously, wondering quite what to say next. He'd prepared a whole speech in the shower, but now he was here, looking at her, he couldn't bring himself to say it. "I guess I'm sorry, too," he began.

"What on earth for?"

"It takes two to break up a friendship. I could have tried harder. I shouldn't have let you just slip away from me."

"I don't think I was in the mood to listen," she said, regret evident in her voice.

He just shook his head. "I guess, deep down, I didn't think I deserved you, so it was easier to let you go."

"Oh, Gareth. All those years we wasted, too stupid to talk to each other."

The atmosphere turned electric. He couldn't look away. That same instinct that took control earlier that night came over him again. He put the glass down, slid across the sofa, and reached for her cheek. "No more wasted time," he breathed, and captured her lips in his.

///

Lucy had shown Gareth to the bathroom, gave him some privacy while he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the warm enveloping mist. Then she'd taken his clothes back to the utility room and threw them into the wash. All the time trying not to admit to herself it was mostly just an excuse to get him naked. Now this need had woken in her, it wouldn't be tamed. She'd never felt desire this strong. Maybe it's the trust, she thought. Gareth would never hurt her, so she was ready and more than willing to put herself in his hands. Just hope he knows how to use them. Guess we'll find out together.

She'd snuck back upstairs, hoping to grab a peek at him in the shower. She nudged the door open a tiny fraction, not so much that he'd notice. There he was - lanky but filled out more than she remembered him all those years ago. Cute butt, too. Nice and tight.

Then she'd noticed what he was doing - wanking himself off, right there in her shower! The brief flicker of outrage quickly switched into lust. Watching him stroke himself, her hand slipped under her skirt and into her thong, rubbing over her nub and dancing over dripping wet lips. What a magnificent cock, she thought. Nothing like the boy she used to go skinny dipping with when they were children. Guess the locker room rumours were well short of the mark, so to speak. She couldn't stop thinking about how that cock had throbbed, pressed against her pussy, as he came with her in his lap. She hadn't been sure at the time, but she checked his clothes when she took them to wash, and the mess he'd left in his boxers confirmed it.

Tempting though it was to just strip off and jump in there with him, she resisted the urge. After all it was only a phone booth sized cubicle, barely big enough for one person to fit. That's not how she wanted their first time to go - bashing elbows on the walls and cracking their heads on the soap tray.

Abruptly he stopped stroking himself. Has he seen me, she wondered? She ducked back round the corner and rushed downstairs to the sofa, brushed her clothes back down, pretending as if nothing had happened.

Soon enough he appeared, hair damp and dishevelled, legs hairy and barefoot. She was all too aware he was totally naked underneath the dressing gown. It was all she could manage not to tear the bathrobe off him and jump him right there on the living room carpet. But somehow she kept her cool, even as he sat next to her on the sofa, and managed to hold a civil conversation.

It was so obvious to her now why she'd never wanted to go all the way with all the other guys she'd dated. They just wanted to sate their own lusts, and she was just a vessel to them. A recipient. But Gareth had been a true friend, when they were younger. She knew him, knew how he thought, from days before sex had meant anything. She'd trusted him back then - her confidante, her co-conspirator - and she trusted him now. It was such a turn-on. She had to know how they'd be together, before she embarked on the new phase of her life, university and beyond.

Those hungry eyes bore into her as they spoke. She'd never got wet just from a look from anyone else, but her reaction to his presence was primal. As he leant over and brought his lips to bear, her legs parted in invitation. His hands roamed over the curves and valleys of her body, dancing over her breasts, toying with the piercings on her nipples, dallying at the nape of her neck, and yes, God yes, sliding up her thighs and under her short flappy skirt. She let out a moan as fingertips brushed over the soaked fabric taut across her pussy.

She wanted, needed, to feel his skin on hers. Her hands slid under his robe, arms pushing it open, letting it fall so she could see his chest. Her nails raked across exposed skin, causing his breath to catch. He broke off the kiss, tucked his hands under her halter top and pulled it up over her head, exposing her breasts in the little lacy push-up bra she'd wore for the party. She watched his eyes, pupils dilating, fixated on her cleavage. She took her hands off him, reached behind her back to unclasp the bra - nothing would have killed the mood faster than him fumbling at it - while he pulled the straps down her arms and threw it aside.

"Fucking hell," he breathed, his face lit up like all his Christmases had come at once. He leant forwards, kissing over the soft flesh of her breasts, tasting her skin where they met, burying his face in her. Electricity shot from her nipples to her core as his tongue danced over them, as he licked and sucked on them, all the time his fingers dancing over the thin fabric barrier of her thong.

Then he slid to the floor, still kissing her body, but now working his way down over her breasts onto her tummy, down and down, until he was kneeling between her legs, his hands sliding down her hips then up her thighs, under the skirt.

"What...?" she breathed.

"You made me come already, remember?" he said, tucking his fingers into the waistband of her thong. "I'm just returning the favour." She lifted her butt off the sofa as he pulled the underwear down, revealing her most private area to his awaiting hungry gaze.

The thong joined her bra in an unknown far corner of the room as he kissed his way up her thighs, her breath short and catching, his eyes locked on hers. She could feel his breath over her damp lips. "Please," she moaned, as he teased near her lips, as her hands laced into his hair to pull him into her. Then as his tongue slipped over her slick entrance, her eyes rolled back, and she could no longer think or speak, only feel.

///

He was still semi-hard as he walked into the lounge and found her sprawled on the sofa. All his eyes could see were long, long legs running up and under that tiny skirt, and her full soft breasts bursting out of the crop top. Eventually, his brain admitted she had a face and eyes - eyes that were looking at him, amused, as if to say: yes, I know I'm fucking hot, and wondering what he was going to do about it?

He sat, trying to hide the tent in his lap, although for why he had no idea - that ship had surely sailed. Nevertheless, he tried to talk to her, tried to be civilized. Yet all he could think was: there's a tiny thong under that skirt, how easy it would be to slide a hand up there and past it, and explore her. The feeling grew, demanded more, until he couldn't stop himself leaning towards her and taking those cherry lips back between his one more time.

He felt her nails drag over his chest, under the robe, bringing his skin to life, setting fire to every nerve in his body. His own hands explored her body, taking the weight of her impressive tits, teasing over the piercings, dragging at the crop top until it disappeared into the darkness and he could see her magnificent chest barely controlled by delicate black lace. He knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help it. This was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. All the porn in the world could never have prepared him for seeing Lucy's boobs in real life. She unclipped the bra behind her back, and he pulled it down her arms and away, those lush globes now free to the air, dumbbell-pierced nipples at full attention. "Fucking hell," he breathed, taking one boob in his hand and licking across the other, moaning and trembling, nose full of her scent, mind overwhelmed by the closeness of her, of that soft flesh brushing his cheeks as he dived between them.

He needed to consume her, totally. He slid to his knees, tasting his way down her body, feeling her legs on his arms. His hands followed him, caressing her curves, riding over the skirt and back underneath, gliding over supple thighs and full hips, finding the band of the thong and giving it a tug. A bead of her moisture pulled into a gossamer thread as the fabric peeled away from her sopping entrance, revealing her core to his hungry gaze. An intense pink rose, begging for him to inhale her scent, to consume its life-giving nectar. Some primal knowledge leant him forwards, guided his lips to hers, and bid him taste. He heard her moans as he explored her entrance with his tongue, felt the heat from her core, tasted her cream. He felt her hands lace into his hair as he explored her with his tongue, with his lips, letting her soft pleading and insistent pressure guide him. Her hands pulled him into her, her hips rocking as he drank from her. He found the nub of her clit, sucked on it, at first gently but then more insistently as she purred and spurred him on. His fingers joined his lips, slipped inside her as his mouth worked her clit. His eyes looked up, over her abs, through the valley of her breasts, up to a face lit up like an angel. A naughty angel having her first taste of the alternate heaven. An angel whose eyes were closed and mouth hanging open. Her ankles crossed behind his shoulders, legs wider spread, letting him push his face right into her. He could feel the dampness of her on his cheeks, his chin... it would never be enough. His fingers beckoned inside her, encouraging her. The texture changed, at first damp and tight but now looser and much wetter.

"Oh god, oh god," she was pleading. "Fuck, you're gonna make me come... no, don't change, just like that..."

Gareth had to resist changing his rhythm. Every fibre of his being urged him to suck harder, stroke longer and deeper, nibble at her most sensitive parts. He wanted to bite her, make her scream. The need to attack was almost overwhelming. But he didn't want to ruin this for her. If she needed this to stay just as it was, then he was not going to spoil it when they were so close to the finish.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck.... FUUUUCKKK!!!!!" she screamed, grabbing his head and forcing it against her pulsating cunt as the orgasm tore through her. Fucking his face, covering him in her juices, trembling against his tongue and lips. Her back curled from the sofa, as if she were doing sit-ups, and an awestruck look covered her face. You did that to her, he told himself, and an overwhelming sense of pride consumed him.

"Fuck me," she panted, as the power of speech returned to her.

"Yeah, pretty overwhelming, wasn't it" he said, lapping at the cream that flowed from her core.

"No," she begged. "I need you to fuck me. Get inside me. NOW."

Gareth didn't need telling twice. He knelt up, aligning the end of his cock to her slick entrance. Here we go, he thought; time to cash in that V card. He took a deep breath, and pushed forwards.

Her lips wrapped round his tip, so incredibly warm, so unbelievably soft, so unbearably tight yet yielding so gracefully. He could hear her whimper as he pressed into her, and it was all he could manage not to growl in reply. But who am I staying silent from, exactly, he wondered. Why the shyness, given there were now no secrets left? "Oh god you feel so incredible," he panted, as he slid back and then a little deeper in, working himself into her pliant pussy.

"Uh-huh," she managed, breath shallow, still clenching from her last orgasm, feeling the next one starting to build.

He looked down at her body, rocking with him as he fed more of himself inside of her. Each thrust forward sent a shockwave through her torso, causing her tits to rock and ripple on her chest. Gareth grabbed her hips and started thrusting in earnest, eager to watch those tits bounce, as he bottomed out into her, pubic bone slapping her clit as their bodies met. The slickness of his cock as it withdrew, covered in her juices, mixing with his precum.

"So... good... not gonna last...." he apologised.

"Do it," she begged. "Cum for me!"

"Where... d'you want me... to finish..."

"In me... need to feel... together..."

And that was all the permission and encouragement his balls needed. "Aaaarhhhhh!!!" He exploded inside her, back arching, hips thrusting forward, pushing as deep into her as he could, pumping thick load after load into her eager waiting cunt.

"Oh god... you did it... you came in me.. Jesus that is so fucking hot... oh god yeeesssss...." she squealed, her own orgasm triggered by the feel of him pulsing inside of her.

They came together, bodies shaking, breath a distant memory. He collapsed forwards, tried to hold his body up by grabbing the back of the sofa, but they refused to hold him up. He fell onto her, their naked bodies pressing against each other as they rode the sensations the long winding way back down. Their lips met, tongues entwined, as the passion flared.

///

Lucy lay curled around Gareth's naked body, herself just in the now soggy remains of her microskirt clinched around her narrow waist. She teased her nails over his chest, and he reached round and grabbed her tight butt.

"That was... amazing," he said. "Everything I ever thought it might be, and more." He looked down at her. "I wish I'd made up with you earlier. Years ago."

"Me too."

"God, I'm still jumping. Is it always like this?"

"How should I know?"

He looked down at her, surprised.

"What?" she asked. "You think just 'cos I'm hot, that I must be a slut?" She pretended to be offended, but couldn't stop smiling. "No, you're the lucky guy who gets the prize."

"I..." he stammered. Surely not. Lucy was the sexiest, most confident, most attractive girl in the whole school. She'd dated loads of the boys. Or so the rumours insisted. There was no chance she was a virgin before tonight. Was there? "But you're..."

"You of all people should know not to believe all the rumours and gossip," she said, reaching down into his lap. "Microdick indeed," she said, stroking his long length and trying to wrap her fingers around the base.

"I'm a grower, not a shower," he said. "Besides, that was years ago; I was just a little boy, in more ways than one." A beat. "God, I hated PE. It sucks being the youngest in the year. There they all were, massive schlongs out with a nest of thick black hair, hung like my dad, and I hadn't even reached puberty yet. I took so much shit for that."

"Kids can be so cruel," she agreed. Not just kids, she thought, remembering how her girlfriends had been about him earlier that night.

Gareth didn't notice the regret flash over her face. "There was a reason I took Latin instead," he said, "and it wasn't because I was passionate about the legend of the Shield of Aeneas."

She laughed.

"And besides," he continued, "I'm not the only one who's grown a lot since we last saw each other naked." He cupped her full, heavy breast, stroking over the flesh with his thumb.

"Ah, those summers when we were little kids. Splashing in our underwear in that little paddling pool your mum dug out, playing with the dogs, ice lollies from the freezer." They say for a moment, lost in memories. "Mum said we'd always end up together. What does she know, eh?"

They were the happiest times of his life, Gareth knew. Until today, that is. He pulled her close. "I have a secret," he whispered. "I think... I know... I'm in love with you." He looked into her eyes. "I've loved you since those days. There's never been anyone else for me."

Silence hung. Lucy let out a long, slow breath. "I..."

"You don't need to say anything," Gareth replied.

She sat up. "No, I do. I'm just... God, words... I didn't know what I wanted. Fuck, I didn't even know who I was, let alone who I wanted to be with." She reached for his face, stroked his cheek. "I do now."

He leant down to her, the kiss developing. Time ceased to have any meaning.

Presently, he shivered. "D'you think my clothes are ready yet?"

"What? Have you got somewhere better to be?" she laughed. "You can't just say you love somebody then fuck off, you know."

Gareth at least had the decency to be embarrassed. "Sorry, I..."

But Lucy wasn't finished. "My parents are away, remember?" She slid to the floor in front of him. "And we still have plenty of other 'firsts' to explore with each other, don't you think?"

Gareth tried to formulate a reply, but before he could articulate it, Lucy's lips wrapped around the end of his cock and slid down over his shaft, rendering him incapable of rational thought, let alone speech. His eyes, and head, rolled backwards as he surrendered to the pleasure. It was going to be quite the weekend.

///

THE END...?