“You got the all clear?” Amy asked, referring to my final hospital visit earlier that day.
I nodded. We were sitting on the bank overlooking the millpond, eating an early lunch together. “Yes, absolutely: I can drive and do everything else as well,” I replied with a twinkle in my eye.
“So you’re going to be able to perform on Saturday?” she asked, a slutty smile flickering across her innocent face.
“Er, yeah,” I said nervously. “Look, are you sure about this?”
Amy looked up at me, with her big saucer eyes. “Yes, Jake,” she said, sincerely. “I love you, I’m ready, I want this.” She took my hand in hers. “Are you ready?”
“Er yeah,” I replied. “I dunno, I just think we should talk about it.”
“Yes, OK,” she said gently. “What are you worried about?”
“I’m just worried about hurting you,” I admitted. “And I want you to really enjoy your first time, but I haven’t done it before either, and, and I’m just afraid of screwing up.”
I’d been trying to rationalise my worries ever since Amy had announced, two days previously, that she wanted to have sex with me. Firstly there was the pressure to perform, not just to avoid ejaculating prematurely, but also to fulfil the masculine, leadership role, to be responsible somehow for guiding us both through the process. Secondly, and more importantly, I was genuinely concerned at the pain that I’d cause her. My girlfriend’s experience of the first time would, at the very least, be dominated by extreme discomfort whereas for me it would be solely pleasurable. Somehow it felt very exploitative and certainly not something to triumph in.
Amy thought for a couple of seconds. “Jake, I know it’s going to hurt the first time, and probably the next few times after that, but that doesn’t matter – it really doesn’t. And I know, that because you’re the guy you are, if I ask you just to pause, or not to push or to go slow, then you’ll do that. And I’ll let you know if it’s hurting and what feels better or worse. And because we love each other and trust each other, we’ll be able to say what’s working or not.” She paused. “And Jake, if something goes wrong like you cum too quickly, or I’m too tight, it’s alright, we’ll just try again later.”
She reached upwards and kissed my cheek.
“I just want it to be perfect for you,” I stammered, a little embarrassed.
“Jake,” she said quietly, “I wanted the Prom to be perfect. I spent years dreaming about it, imagining it, long before I met you. And it was perfect, it was the best evening of my life.” She paused. “Then you got hurt Jake. You got hurt, and I realised that it wasn’t my dress or my hair or my makeup or anything like that that had made it perfect, it was you – what we have together, what we’ve built together. A single event doesn’t define our relationship, it’s our love. So if we don’t get it right first time, we’ll try again on Sunday morning – it’s alright – I’ll still love you as much as I do now.”
I put my arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
“I’m going to be with you Jake, nothing else matters, it really doesn’t.” She reached up to kiss my cheek.
“And what do you want to do beforehand?” I asked. “Should we go out for a meal, or should we cook together?”
“Let’s cook,” Amy replied. “I’ll go to the supermarket and buy the food – I’ll sort that.”
“And should I pick you up from the Stables when you finish work?” I asked, “or do you want me to come to yours later on?”
Amy thought for a bit. “Could you pick me up please?” she asked. “It’ll be easier that way.”
“Should I buy some condoms and some lube?” I asked. If Amy was on the pill, she’d never mentioned it.
My girlfriend looked a little embarrassed for the first time in the conversation. “I think we should both get some,” she responded, “and then we both know that we’re protected.”
“OK,” I said, preparing to ask the most delicate question. “And how do you want to do it, I mean, um, should I go on top, or would you prefer to um, or…” I felt my cheeks reddening.
“I think I’d like to try it first with you on top,” she said, looking down and breaking eye contact. “But if that doesn’t work, we can try something different.”
“OK,” I said. “Is there anything else we need to think about before the weekend?”
“Jake,” Amy said, “I want you to promise me one thing. I don’t want you to ask me again if I’m sure. I am sure about this. And if I change my mind at any point, I’ll tell you. Is that OK?”
I nodded. Continually seeking reassurance from Amy was, while well intentioned, just going to stifle the mood.
“And if you’re not ready,” she said, “just tell me. I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything, just because I want you to.”
I took her hand in mine and kissed her again.
“I’m really looking forward to Saturday,” I said.
“Me too Jake,” she smiled.
–
The two weeks either side of the August Bank Holiday weekend are the peak tourist season in England and both the Campsite and Stables were fully booked. With being so busy at work, Amy and I had agreed not to worry about meeting up with each other again before the Saturday.
Her family were due to leave on the Friday morning and I suggested that she stay that night at the farmhouse, partly to reduce her commute but also to have an evening meal with my parents and me. To my surprise, she politely declined. I didn’t push the issue, but as we were going to lose our virginities to each other the following evening, I reasoned that she might well want to spend some time on her own and, with her work schedule at the riding school, that would be difficult enough without staying over with me. Perhaps she also felt that a period of minimal intimacy between the two of us would make the first time that little bit more special. In the event, one of the members of staff at the Campsite called in sick on the Friday and so I worked a double shift into the evening.
Outside of work, there were a few things I had to do to get ready for Cambridge, which proved a decent distraction from the business of the weekend to come. Exam Results Day had triggered an avalanche of paperwork, which had arrived in the post early that week. All of a sudden, I was putting my barely practised signature to my rent agreement and all manner of other contracts. A few days later, one of the second-year students at my College messaged me on Facebook to introduce himself and to say that he’d be mentoring me for the first couple of weeks.
There were also some preparations to make for Saturday night. Firstly I’d been trying to do some ‘research on the internet’ into how to have sex with a girl for the first time. I knew that Amy was likely to experience a lot of pain, but I wanted to mitigate that as much as possible. Inevitably the vast array of resources online were fairly unhelpful, but the more useful advice suggested lots of foreplay and plenty of lube.
Uncharacteristically for me, perhaps, I’d also thought about what I was going to wear. Clearly Amy and I would be naked for ‘the act’, but maybe I could be a little sexier in my attire beforehand. (The thought had crossed my mind that Amy had been intending to save the lacy nightie that she’d worn the previous weekend, for her first time.) In the end I decided that it was more important that I was as relaxed and comfortable as possible, than that I arrived dressed anything too exotic.
I did allow myself to fork out for the relative extravagance of two new pairs of boxer briefs from a well-known sports brand (white ones of course – I knew that Amy preferred them to the black); they seemed to cling a little more closely to my butt and to show off the outline of my bulge more effectively than my usual bottom-of-the-range supermarket stock. I’d also agonised over splashing out on a bottle of aftershave, but in the end had decided that it just wasn’t ‘me’.
I clocked off at the Campsite just after three on Saturday afternoon and drove straight into town to buy a bottle of wine and a bouquet of red roses. If I couldn’t give Amy red roses on that day, when could I?
I felt just a hint of nervousness as I parked the car back at the farmhouse. There were two hours to go before I needed to pick my girlfriend up from the Stables; even if I dragged out showering, shaving and changing, there’d still be at least an hour before I needed to leave. There was absolutely no point rushing, yet every bone in my body was urging me to leap out and to start getting ready.
Grabbing the flowers and the bottle, I unlocked the front door of the house and headed to the kitchen. Fortunately my parents were out, and I had the house to myself. I dunked the flowers in some water and squeezed the wine into the freezer to cool it, then headed upstairs to pack and get ready.
One of the strategic purchases that I’d made that week was a cheap battery-powered shaver and hair trimmer from the catalogue shop in town. I’d toyed with the idea of tidying up my pubes several times over the previous few months, especially as Amy and I became more intimate with each other. She always kept her own hair short and neatly trimmed, and this was something I noticed and appreciated when going down on her. I thought it would be nice to surprise her by reciprocating, especially as it seemed likely that she would blow me a couple of times over the weekend. I’d also read that it made your cock seem longer.
I stood in the bathroom, with the door locked safely behind me, brandishing the electric shaver. I could see the area in question, reflected in the mirror, but was unsure how to proceed. Should I sit on the floor and try to bend forward to see what I was doing, or was standing up in front of the basin the better strategy?
I decided the floor was the best option and, juggling a mirror and comb in one hand and the shaver in the other, cautiously began my topiary. I decided to be conservative, on the grounds that trimming less was probably better than overdoing things – I didn’t want to end up with big bald patches, just a little neater all round. I finished my work, uncertain as to whether I’d made any improvement, although the small pile of hair of dirty-blond hair between my legs showed that I had at least removed something.
I’d toyed with the idea of a tactical wank to head off a premature ejaculation, but decided I wanted my only orgasms that day to be with Amy. So instead I climbed into the shower, making sure that every part of my body was clean. I shaved my face, then pulled on my new boxer briefs. I posed in front of the mirror, before putting a little gel on my hair. I recalled the last time I’d paused to admire myself in the same way, in the hotel bathroom at the Prom, half-expecting Ritchie to appear behind me ready to cause trouble. I shuddered and tried to banish the image of his sneering face from my mind. Why was that spectre rearing its head on today of all days?
–
I sat in the car waiting patiently; Amy was late finishing at the Stables as usual – something wrong with a horse, or something. The bottle of white wine that I’d tried to chill in the freezer, was now the same temperature as the inside of the car and the roses would doubtless be roasting in their hiding place in the boot; but none of that mattered – I was spending the weekend alone with my girlfriend – I didn’t mind waiting.
I flicked idly through the messages on my phone, scrounging off the riding school wifi. Most of my classmates were posting updates from their travels – endless photos of smiling faces from towns and cities across Europe and beyond, enjoying their first foreign vacations without their parents.
My cousin had posted a selfie standing on the Charles Bridge in Prague, arms round one of my best friends – she seemed as besotted as she had been when she’d left. She’d appended a message: “Standing on the most romantic bridge in Europe with my amazing boyfriend! Can’t believe it’s been four months already!! I love you Danny Curran XXX.” It was enough to make anyone puke.
Lauren wasn’t the only one; James had posted a string of photos from the beaches of Spain and Portugal. Almost all featured his girlfriend Becky, cavorting around the frame as she showed off the assets that had bewitched almost every boy in the school. The bikinis she wore (different in almost every shot) left little to the imagination. To my shame I found myself feeling a tiny pang of jealousy – Becky was hot, there was no denying it – that had been obvious even when she was wearing school uniform. I chided myself – I had no need and no right to envy James; Amy was the most beautiful girl in the world – and she had the brains to match; an airhead like Becky simply couldn’t compete.
Perhaps James was the one whose relationship had changed him the most, I mused. He’d always been more confident and outgoing than Danny and me. But now there was an added layer of materialism on top – he’d be the party king at uni, no doubt about it. I flicked to the next photo; there was the smug bastard, lying on a sun lounger by a pool, wearing sunglasses and board shorts, drinking a tall cocktail.
No I wasn’t jealous, I really wasn’t.
But Amy and I weren’t the only ones still in Blighty; Ritchie was languishing in a Young Offenders’ Institution awaiting his trial. The plans he and Ross had had to screw their way through the party islands of the Mediterranean, had been well and truly dashed. The only action he’d see this summer, would be in the prison showers.
I heard the clang of the gate opening and Amy emerged from the Stables, red-faced and embarrassed. She opened the car door and placed a peck on my cheek. It was about a quarter to seven, but at least we’d be well clear of the traffic as we headed back to her house.
She was flustered – I could tell – she was talking very quickly. No matter what she’d said earlier in the week about not over-planning for the perfect evening, it was clear that she’d wanted us to be well into cooking supper by now. Perhaps her agitation over the timetable slipping was to cover other nerves, but it was clear to me that I needed to step forward a little and to show her I was calm.
“I had a message from Lauren,” I ventured, once Amy had rattled through her day and paused to draw breath. “They’ve made it to Prague.”
“Oh that’s nice,” she replied. “And do you know where they’re going next?”
“I think it was Berlin, but I’m not sure, it might have been Munich instead.” I thought for a second. “No it must be Berlin, because they were going to meet up with Nick and Frankie.”
“And she hasn’t got tired of Danny?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered. “I’m sure they’ll come back as loved up as they went away.”
“It’s strange,” Amy mused. “Almost everyone’s doing it at the moment, backpacking round Europe. It just wasn’t a ‘thing’ at my old school – at least I don’t think it was.”
“No I think it’s pretty common round here,” I explained. “James’ oldest brother did it before he left for uni, what five years ago. We’d ‘ve been Year 8 at the time and I think it kinda caught our imagination a bit. Then his middle brother did it too, when he was eighteen.
“Of course, when we were twelve, we thought we could visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Egyptian pyramids and the Great Wall of China in a single weekend – with time to stop off at the Taj Mahal!” I continued. “When we were coming up to GCSEs we realised that running off to the continent immediately after A level results day was probably a good plan (a) to get away from angry parents and (b) to drown our sorrows as we drank our way through as many countries as we could.”
Amy laughed.
“Does it seem odd, Lauren and Danny being a couple?” she asked.
I shook my head. “No, I thought it would, but it really doesn’t. I’m just happy that they’re happy together. Maybe at the start I was worried it wouldn’t last very long and there’d be an acrimonious split in the middle of exams, but no, they’re a good fit – he’s chaotic and disorganised, she’s chaotic and slightly less disorganised. But the real miracle is that his mum likes her – I mean, who saw that one coming – Danny’s mum approving of Lauren as his girlfriend?”
“Is she really that bad – Danny’s mum?”
“We used to call her the Ceiling Breaker,” I replied. “She’d just fly off the handle if he did anything naughty. It got so bad that whenever he came down to the farm, he’d borrow a set of clothes from me, so he could go home pristine. That was the thing – her behaving like a dragon didn’t stop him from doing what he wanted – he just became an expert in hiding it from her. He learnt to be a bit sneaky and I guess we did too.”
“So the farm was where he hid from her?”
I laughed.
“Yeah, I suppose. And James liked coming down because it got him away from his brothers – not because they didn’t get on, but he just wanted to be a bit more independent. That’s how the three of us grew so close.”
We’d reached the ring road on the edge of town and Amy let me concentrate as I navigated the roundabout.
“I didn’t realise it was so important to you, going on holiday before uni,” she said, a note of regret in her voice. “I wish I’d have said yes when you mentioned it back in May.”
“Well we said we’d think about it,” I replied casually, “but then everything happened at the point when we might have started doing something.”
“But we should have just booked the flights when they were cheap,” she answered. “And if we hadn’t gone, it wouldn’t have mattered too much.”
“We could always go away together at Christmas,” I said. “Somewhere warm. And we’ve earned so much money – we can afford somewhere really nice.”
“Can we go somewhere before that?” she asked. “Go down to Dorset again – spend the weekend together, before I leave for uni?”
I hesitated.
“I’m sure Mum would let you drive this time,” she added, as if reading my mind.
“She would?”
Amy nodded.
“Have you heard from her – your mum?” I asked.
“No, it’s all been very quiet.”
“You didn’t get a lecture before they left?”
My girlfriend shook her head.
“No, she just said that you mustn’t drink before driving, but that was it.”
I smiled.
“She likes you Jake, I know you don’t believe it, but she really likes you. And she trusts you – she trusts you more than she trusts me!”
–
I turned into Amy’s street. My girlfriend had relaxed a little on the journey, but she was becoming apprehensive again. I parked the car in the driveway and waited for her to unlock the front door, trying not to salivate over the sight of her pert bottom as she fumbled with the keys. I could feel the tumescence growing in my trousers as we went inside. My erection was showing up early for the party – and that wasn’t a good thing – I’d have no use for it for at least an hour. And with Amy nervous, the last thing she needed was to feel my hardness pressing against her as we embraced in the hallway.
I dispatched her upstairs for a shower, part of me wishing that I’d ripped off her jodhpurs and flung her on her bed there and then. But there was a right way of doing things – the romance element was as important to me as it was to her, and I was grateful not to have surrendered control to my lustful instincts.
I cooked as Amy got ready – something to take my mind off the events to come. She’d bought some salmon, to be served with some vegetables. The fish would take twenty minutes or so to bake in the oven and there was a hollandaise sauce to make up with egg yolks and butter.
Freshly washed and changed, Amy greeted me in the kitchen with a beaming smile. She didn’t usually wear makeup, but I noticed she’d put on some mascara and lipstick – subtle, not too bold. I hadn’t seen her black dress before; it was a fairly conservative outfit, with a high neckline, but it left her shoulders bare. A summer of outdoor work had tanned her usually pale skin and her arms and legs were well toned. The garment was tight across her waist, then opened into the skirt, ending with a mid-thigh hem. It was a dress for a bright, bubbly, confident young woman and it suited her perfectly.
I presented the bouquet of roses to her and bent to kiss her. I pressed my forehead against hers.
“I love you so much,” I whispered.
“I love you too Jake,” she replied.
We kissed again and I offered her a glass of wine. Then I turned back to the stove and began to slowly pour the melted butter into the whisked egg yolks.
I felt Amy’s small hands slipping under my arms to rest on my chest, feeling me as I worked the ingredients of the sauce together. She laid her head against my back.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she said quietly, letting her fingers trace the outline of my pecs through my shirt. “It’s been so hard this week, waiting to get my hands on you again!”
She placed a kiss between my shoulder blades. I stayed quiet, trying to coordinate the various pots and pans in front of me, while trapped in her clutches.
“I love your body so much. I love your muscles and how tall you are. And you’re so strong and so gentle, it’s so much fun spending time with you.”
I didn’t want to interrupt, but the fish needed rescuing from the oven.
“Amy, Beautiful?” I asked, “Can you get the salmon out please? It should be done.”
My girlfriend slid her arms down my sides to my butt and gave me a little squeeze with each hand.
“I love this bottom,” she sighed.
She turned to remove the baking tray from the oven. I looked over my shoulder as she peered into one of the foil parcels.
“Is it OK?” I asked.
Amy smiled. “Perfect, just like you.”
“I’m sure I’m flattered to be compared to a piece of cooked fish!” I teased.
–
We ate in the dining room. It wasn’t a room I particularly liked – it was where the two of us had worked in the run up to our exams; the only meal I’d eaten in there before was the awkward spaghetti bolognese with her family, the day after my girlfriend and I had got together.
Amy cleared away our plates from the main course, returning a minute or so later carrying two small glass ramekins, each containing a store-bought chocolate dessert. She handed the first to me and then made to move round the table to her own seat with the second, but I caught her free arm and pulled her gently back to me.
“Jake what are you doing?” she asked confused.
“I thought we could sit together,” I said.
“But we were sitting together,” she protested.
“No,” I said gently, “sit here, on my lap.”
I pulled my chair back slightly to give her space and she perched on my legs. I wondered if I should perhaps take her ramekin and then feed the dessert to her, but I decided that wouldn’t feel quite right. We ate in silence, a few mouthfuls was all it took, as the nerves began to flutter in me again.
Amy started to get up, but I pulled her towards me and she leant against me, resting her head on my shoulder. It was getting dark outside now and the soft light of the candles was beginning to throw flickering shadows onto the walls. I’m not sure that that room could ever be described as homely, but it was certainly becoming less austere. I kissed Amy’s cheek and stroked her upper arm.
“Thank you for a lovely meal,” she said quietly.
“That’s OK,” I said. “I didn’t really do much, salmon is pretty easy to cook. And you bought everything anyway.”
She smiled. I lifted her chin and our tongues met.
“You taste all chocolatey,” she smiled.
I let one hand rest on her knee as we continued to kiss. Things were heating up a little and Amy began to make contented murmurs as I stroked the back of her head. Cautiously, I slid my hand up her leg, dipping my fingers under the hem of her dress. I held there, half expecting her to push me away, but instead she opened her legs a little wider and began to unfasten the buttons of my shirt, kissing across my chest as my skin became exposed.
I was hard now, achingly hard. I slid my hand further up the inside of her dress and she eased the shirt from my shoulders. The soft skin of her inner thigh beckoned me onwards. I gasped as she bent her head to my nipples, taking each one into her mouth in turn and sucking firmly. My fingers were nearing their goal; I could feel the moist heat radiating from her core. I brushed lightly against her panties and she moaned, lifting her head and closing her eyes.
With my other hand I started to slide the strap of her dress across her shoulder, but she reached up to stop me. She made eye contact with me again, waiting, willing me to take the lead.
“Shall we go upstairs?” I asked, softly, nervously.
She nodded and she stood, grasping my hand firmly as I rose. I pulled her to me again and kissed her deeply. Then, placing both arms beneath her, I swept her off her feet and lifted her slowly to the door.
My heart pounded in my chest as I carried Amy up the stairs. I set her down again at the top, letting her lead me into her bedroom. She took my hand again and pushed the door open. Above her bed, a string of fairy lights gave the room an ethereal, magical quality, bathing the room in a soft white light. She’d been planning this night for so long, setting the stage, choosing her costume. I was her actor in her play, her Prince Charming, her Romeo.
“Wow,” I said. “This looks amazing.”
She smiled at me, pleased that I had appreciated the results of her efforts. She took a deep breath, she was nervous too.
“Will you unzip me please?” she asked, turning her back to me.
I bent and kissed along the top of her shoulder, gently gathering her hair and moving it to the side, before slowly sliding the zip downwards. I lifted the straps, releasing the dress to slide swiftly down her body, to pool around her feet. Amy bent forwards slightly, her hands moving between us to unfasten her bra.
“Please,” I said, “let me.” I caught her wrists in my hands, then moved to release the clasp.
Amy stepped forwards, reaching down to lift her dress from the floor and laying it on the back of her chair. She slipped off her sandals, then turned around. She paused, standing a metre or so from me, clad only in her black satin panties.
“Wow,” I gasped, “you look so beautiful, so amazing.”
“So do you,” she smiled shyly. She extended both hands towards me and crossed the room, back to me. My lips met with hers as she ran her hands up my arms, testing my biceps gently with her fingertips. She sank to her knees and with deft movements unfastened my chinos, hooking her fingers into the waistband and pulling them down, before kissing her way back up my torso.
As her breasts crushed against my chest, I felt Amy’s hands drifting downwards, resting on the globes of my buttocks and pulling me against her more firmly. She gasped as she felt the hardness of my cock pressing against her abs.
I bent down and lifted her again. I carried her round to the side of the bed, before laying her on top of the duvet. I made to join her, but she pushed me away.
I looked at her in confusion, worried that I was rushing her.
“It’s OK,” she said, sensing my anxiety. “I just wanted to look at you.”
I bent to kiss her, then stood as we drank in the sight of each other’s bodies. Amy propped herself up on her elbows and I moved slowly to the foot of the bed. Even now, I think that moment was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen.
My girlfriend lay before me, her lightly tanned skin shimmering in the warm glow of the soft fairly lights. Her eyes shone with excitement; a bright smile writ large across her face. Her dark hair fell behind her shoulders, exposing the graceful curve of her slender neck. She ran her hands across her flat stomach to cup the soft globes of her breasts. Her dark nipples – proud and erect, teased me, aching for my lips and tongue to close around them. She slipped one hand down her body, below the waistband of her black satin panties and began to make small circles across her mons.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked coquettishly.
“You’re so beautiful,” I gasped.
“I can see how hard you are!” she giggled.
Amy sat up and crawled forwards to the end of the bed, to where I stood before her. She knelt up and we kissed, a full passionate kiss. I held my hands lightly on her hips, letting her explore my body. She stroked her fingertips across my shoulders and my pecs.
“Aahh Jake,” she gasped. “Your body is amazing.” She nuzzled my chest, letting the thin blond strands covering my pecks tickle her nose and her cheek. “You’ve got more hair now,” she said.
“Do you like it?” I asked, concerned that she might prefer me waxed and smooth chested.
“I love it,” she replied, smiling up at me, her eyes dancing with excitement. “It makes you look so strong and so manly, and it feels so soft against my breasts!”
She straightened up to kiss me again, deliberately crushing her bosom against my pecs, the tight firmness of her tips lightly raking over mine. Then she slipped lower and I felt the delicate flick of her tongue across each of my nipples, before she kissed her way down to my abs.
She pulled back from me and lay down on her front, her face barely centimetres from the tip of my cock, which peeked defiantly over the waistband of my underwear. She paused to feast her eyes on the outline of my hardness, trapped painfully behind the tight fabric. Then she reached her hands behind me, sweeping her fingertips across my buttocks.
“I love your bottom,” she sighed. “It’s so firm and pert and uuuhhhh,” she shuddered as a first tremor of pleasure ran through her. She pulled my butt forwards and nuzzled against my erection.
My hand went to the back of her head. “You like that?” I asked, teasingly.
“Oh Jake I love it,” she cried. “And I love your scent, you’re so musky and manly. And you’re so hard for me!”
I tangled my fingers in her hair as she kissed up my cock, feeling her soft lips through the fabric of my boxer briefs. Then she licked slowly and deliberately across the exposed tip of my glans.
“Oh fuck Amy,” I cried. That feels so good!
She looked up at me, her eyes sparking with delight. “I love you Jake,” she said simply.
She kissed the top of my glans again, then hooked her fingers into my waistband and pulled my underwear down, exposing my full length for the first time that evening. She smiled up at me – she’d noticed I’d shaved for her.
She held me in her fingertips, fascinated by the firmness of my shaft.
“Oh, Jake,” she cried. “He really is exquisite.”
I shuddered as the warm wetness of her mouth closed over my head. Amy looked up at me, an expression of unconditional love in her eyes. I brushed her hair away from her face, then held my hand gently on the side of her cheek as she bobbed her head slowly and deliberately. She swirled her tongue across my crown, lovingly caressing me as she suckled. I closed my eyes in ecstasy.
Amy slipped her hands onto my buttocks again and pulled me deeper into her mouth. My cock twitched as I felt my glans beginning to slide down the back of her throat. I pulled my hips away from her, concerned I’d cum too soon. She moaned in disappointment, but I lifted her up and embraced her tightly, crushing my throbbing hardness against her abs.
“It’s time,” she said calmly. “I’m ready.”
She lay down again on her back on the bed and opened her legs for me, so I could crawl between them. Perhaps that was the only moment that night that she showed any trace of nervousness, the slightest flicker of uncertainty perhaps, but she embraced me warmly as I lowered my chest to hers. I ran my fingers softly though her hair and I stared into her loving eyes.
“I love you so much,” I whispered. “You’re so special to me, Amy.”
We kissed tenderly for several minutes, as my fingers stroked her cheek and played with the curls behind her ears. I felt the gentle swell of her breasts against me, as our breathing slowed and synchronised. The world stood still as our minds became one.
Cautiously I moved my way down her body, worshiping her skin with my lips, caressing her nipples with my tongue and stroking the soft curves of her hips. I nuzzled the heat of her sex though the black satin.
I looked up at her, making eye contact, seeking permission to continue. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. I hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties and she lifted her hips as I slid her underwear from her.
I looked down at my virgin girlfriend, now fully naked beneath me. She was indescribably beautiful. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and her skin shone in the soft glow of the fairy lights above her head. My heart surged with love.
I moved between her legs and bent to place a kiss on her mons. Amy raised her knees a little and reached to take my hands in hers, seeking a little reassurance perhaps.
She really was beautiful.
Before me, her soft, pink lips opened into a perfect diamond, a flower in full bloom, aching for me alone. Even in the dim light I could see the beads of her arousal, glistening before me. I blew softly across her labia and she quivered with pleasure.
I looked up at her face and licked delicately along the length of her slit, watching her as she watched me. She smiled excitedly, encouraging me on.
“Mmm,” I murmured. “You taste so good.”
A whimper escaped from her throat as I opened her with my fingers, revealing the full beauty of her womanhood. I began to probe more deeply with my tongue, teasing her folds with my mouth. She held the back of my head and started to buck her hips a little as I explored, covering my mouth with her wetness.
Amy threw her head back and moaned as I moved a little higher. I teased her clitoris with the very tip of my tongue. Her breaths were shorter and more frantic now, and her body was beginning to tense.
Suddenly her movements stopped and she lay still. For a split second, I thought she might be orgasming, but she reached down, grabbed me roughly by the arms and pulled me up and away from her core.
“Stop, Jake, stop!” she panted.
A shiver of panic ran through me; had she suddenly changed her mind?
“Are you OK?” I asked fearfully, “Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine,” she gasped, “but you were gonna make me cum.”
I looked quizzically at her; surely that was the point?
“I need you now Jake – in me. I’m ready, more than ever.”
She hoisted herself up on one elbow, picked up one of the foil packets from her bedside table and reached for my cock. I knelt up between her legs, my shaft jutting proudly from me like a lance. She grasped it with her small, delicate hands and stroked it a couple of times, then bent to kiss the tip.
Gently she tore the top of the packet and extracted the condom, placing it over the tip of my glans. I moved my hand to help, but she pushed me away.
“Let me do it, I want to do it,” she insisted.
She rolled the latex jacket down my shaft, then turned to pick up the bottle of lube from the table, which she used to coat me liberally.
“Your raincoat’s all wet!” she giggled.
She leant back and pulled a pillow out from behind her head.
“Can you put this under me?” she asked, lifting her hips.
I positioned the pillow, then leaned over her, supporting myself with my arms extended. I kissed her again; she smiled – she could taste herself on my lips.
My tip bumped against her as I moved to position myself; Amy could feel it too – her eyes widened in anticipation. She grasped my cock again and began to rub it against her sex.
“Are you ready?” I whispered.
Amy nodded. “I want this more than anything,” she replied.
I began to push forwards slowly, a couple of millimetres at most.
“It’s OK,” she said “let me do this, I’ll tell you when to push.” She rotated her hips a little, making sure that I was aligned correctly. “OK,” she said, “just a tiny bit.”
I pressed forward cautiously, searching her face for signs of discomfort. She grimaced a little, set, determined, then she gasped.
“Wow Jake,” she said, “you really are big!”
I looked down between us. My condom-covered glans was now hidden inside her.
“Just wait,” she said, “let me get used to you. I’m so full. It’s OK, you don’t need to push now, I can kiss you into me.”
She released her grip on my cock and ran her hands up my arms to my shoulders, accidentally smearing the excess lube on me. She pulled me down so my chest met hers and we kissed deeply again.
We stayed like that for five minutes, perhaps more, as we held each other in that most intimate, most loving embrace. Through the condom her pussy was gripping my head more tightly than it had ever been gripped before. I could feel her muscles rippling slightly as she stretched to accommodate me.
“Amy, I love you so much,” I gabbled. “This is so special to be so close to you. I really love you, I really do!”
She smiled calmly. “I love you too Jake. I feel so full, but you feel fantastic inside me.”
Then she began to lift her hips again, tilting upwards slightly and I felt myself moving forwards.
She gasped. I hesitated and a frown of concern flashed across my face.
“It’s OK,” she nodded in gentle encouragement.
I kissed her again and moved forward as her channel opened before me.
“Jake,” she asked, “can you let me see? I want to watch.”
I pushed myself up on my arms and we both peered in fascination. My cock was about halfway in now. Amy moved her hand down again feeling for where my hardness had entered her, feeling how our bodies were joined.
“Can you push a little faster?” she asked.
“OK,” I said, “I’m not hurting you too much?” I asked.
“No, it’s fine. It’s pinching a little, but it’s OK. It’s just a different feeling, some of it’s a very nice feeling, but I need to get used to it. But this is perfect, so perfect, you’re doing everything right,” she reassured me.
I could feel the pressure on my cock reducing a little as I pushed forward again. The two of us watched as I slowly disappeared inside her and finally my trimmed public hair nestled against her mound.
I collapsed down onto my elbows, almost exhausted by the effort of the first full entry.
“Ah Jake!” Amy murmured. “You feel so good inside me. I can feel you all the way in. I’ve never felt so whole, so complete!”
“Do you want me to pull out a little?” I asked, unsure if she was ready for the next stage.
“No, just hold me, I want to keep this moment.”
She pulled me tightly to her and as she did so her hips rotated slightly and I moved even deeper. She gasped. “Wow Jake, that’s amazing, that feels so good!”
Amy held me tightly for another five minutes, gazing lovingly into my eyes and cradling my cheeks, as I luxuriated in the rippling intensity of her pussy. I whispered my love for her in her ear.
She pushed me back up with her hands. “OK Jake,” she whispered, determined, focused. “I’m ready. Make love to me!”
I began to lift my hips slowly, withdrawing just a couple of centimetres. Then, equally cautiously I pushed forwards until I was snug against her mons once more. Amy gave a contented gasp and I repeated again, taking several seconds to savour the velvety grip of her pussy as my crown moved inside her.
“Does that feel good?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s amazing, it’s perfect,” I replied. “I feel so close to you.”
Encouraged, I began to move a little further, still maintaining the slow pace. She propped herself up again on her elbows and watched fascinated as I withdrew and then pushed back in again.
“I think we might need some more lube,” I suggested.
She scrabbled for the bottle, then smeared some more of the gel onto my exposed shaft. I bent down and kissed her again as I pushed in again slowly.
“It’s OK,” she said, “you can go a little faster now. I’m getting used to you.”
I pulled out a little more sharply and I saw her wince a little; she was hurting, but trying very hard to hide it. I kissed her again, trying to comfort her. I returned to my previous pace with long, slow strokes and she nodded along in encouragement. It was becoming easier now, her pussy wasn’t gripping me so tightly and there was a little less resistance to my thrusts.
She was beginning to whimper again – short, sharp cries that matched the rhythm of my thrusts. Encouraged, I began to ramp up the pace, moving faster, moving deeper. Thoughts of Amy’s comfort were pushed from my mind as the testosterone rose within me. I ploughed on, my grunts filling the room in unison with her cries. Sweat was pouring off me now.
“Cum for me Jake, I want you to cum for me!” she cried. She pulled my chest down to meet hers and wrapped her legs around me, holding me ever more firmly against her. I could feel her breasts jolting against me as I drove into her. She ran her small hands over my back as she urged me on, smothering me with her kisses.
Blinded by passion, I redoubled my efforts, moving faster and faster inside her. She was gripping me tightly, so tightly. I couldn’t last much longer, I was getting close. I could feel my climax boiling up within me.
I roared, giving one final thrust and I felt the condom begin to fill with my sperm. I fell forwards, collapsing on top of Amy, lost in the turbulence of my orgasm.
I lay still, panting, as she held me deep inside her. She nuzzled my neck and stroked my hands across my back, listening as my breathing returned to normal. My heart pounded against the soft caress of her breasts.
“I love you Jake,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
I was becoming soft, so I pulled gently out. I rolled the condom off my penis, tied a knot around halfway down its length, then got off the bed to place it in the trash.
I lay back down next to her.
“Wow!” she gasped, laying her head on my chest
“That was so special,” I said as I moved my arm to stroke her back, “that felt amazing. I love you Amy.”
“I’m so happy you’re my boyfriend,” she said, snuggling close to me. “I love you Jake.”