A story about sex, pretty much.
I haven't really written stories with sex before, so that must make it obvious that I have never written stories about sex, either. It's an interesting venture, though, writing one about such a topic. I'm not regretting that I wrote this story, and I am, in fact, rather happy that I was, with a bit of indie music and toasted bread and peanut butter, able to start and finish it in one afternoon. I reread through it a couple of times and am glad that I refrained from making it too erotic and serious by adding in the boy's thoughts during his first shot at intercourse. The boy/persona can be anyone you like, and the girl can also be anyone you like (as long as she has, I suppose, brown hair), but the characters in this story were -- and still are -- originally meant to be a girl named Stellar Brooke and a boy named Davyn Bishop Jr. Certain people know who these characters are.
...
Also. Apologies to bakagaki , but I felt I had to write it down somehow. XD
--
"You think it'd fit, though?" I wondered aloud as I began unzipping my pants.
I turned to her, and she was looking at me, an incredulous and amused look on her face. She started laughing then. At that time, I didn't understand why. It was my first, and I was helplessly clueless. She seemed to find this adorable. I was fourteen then, and I didn't understand a lot of things.
I wrinkled my forehead. "Why?" I started. "What's so funny?" My hands clutched my pants, but they remained there, hovering above my crotch. She giggled again and went over to me and bent down to plant a kiss on my cheek. Obviously, I was quite short for my age.
"Of course it will, silly," she answered, one hand still cupping the left side of my face. "How else d'you suppose your parents did it?" I felt my cheeks flush at this; I could still remember. I didn't like the thought of my parents doing it, and I still don't.
She went back to busying herself with her blouse, and I returned to my pantaloon business. Having unbuttoned them, I slid them off. I felt awkward for a moment, standing there, naked, save for the bright red underwear that I chose to wear.
"You're supposed to take those off too, dear," I heard her say from somewhere behind me. I gulped. I knew that. I did. I just hadn't expected that it would feel odd.
"O-of course."
I slid them off quickly in an attempt to feel excited. It was funny because, before today, I had felt so, so excited -- excited enough to keep thinking about it at night and ending up with one hand inside my boxers. But now, mere minutes -- seconds -- away from the act itself, I couldn't help but feel a little ... scared.
I shook my head. Stupid, I thought to myself. This'll be fun. What're you scared about?
I spun around and saw her, naked, checking her face in the mirror. My hand went up to the back of my neck, and I swallowed something that tasted an awful lot like sandpaper. She must've noticed me staring then, for she turned her head and looked at me.
Her eyes flew downwards and, almost immediately, I knew what she was looking at. Just as immediately, I felt myself go red. And then stiffen. Her mouth took the form of something that appeared to be a cross between a smile and a smirk. She took my arm and led me to the bed. I held myself, somewhat scared that if I didn't, it'd fall off or something. She saw this, and slapped my hand away.
She pushed me down on her soft, soft bed, and I felt my adrenaline rise rather significantly. At this point, she had me pinned down. I couldn't keep myself from staring at her breasts as they fell from her chest. They were like upside-down mountains, capped off with a nice light brown. By this time, some anomaly was beginning to occur somewhere down there, if you catch my drift. I shifted. My exposed feet felt clammy and cold.
"Nervous, are you?" she asked me.
I was about to nod, but then I caught myself. "Bring it on, love," I said, pretending to be something I wasn't just yet. She raised an eyebrow at this, a little impressed, and then she brought it on.
The first that happened was odd. Very odd. Before that, there were explanations, and I had listened to them, but they flew out of my mind the second this "first thing" occurred.
I didn't get it, initially, but it was slimy, and wet, and strange. Then, completely ignoring the sound of her voice, I looked down. And I understood.
"BLOODY SHITTING ARSE TURD HOLE-"
She clamped her hand on my mouth and brought a finger to her lips; I nodded, and she took her hand away. Immediately, my mouth fell open, and I began breathing heavily, very much like a fish that had just been pulled out of water. If I could, I'd have flipped and flopped and turned round and round, but I couldn't. I was deep inside her. Deep, deep inside her.
"Oh, fuck..." I muttered.
She wrinkled her nose and sat up. "Inexperienced, indeed," she said, her arms crossed over her breasts. Just looking at them made things sort of stickier at the bottom, and I felt weirder and weirder by the second. I looked at her, a little embarrassed, and she looked at me, as if trying to make me out. I began to wonder how "experienced" she really was, or if she was just as experienced as she claimed herself to be, or if she was even experienced at all. She was only sixteen after all; a good two years older than myself.
Afterwards, I suppose she was able to make up her mind. She started rocking back and forth. On me. As if she were, well... riding me or something.
I lay there, blinking up at her. Being inside her was like being inside some sort of cave. A wet, sticky, tight sort of cave. It had me feeling oddly well inside. I started out hesitantly, of course, but pretty soon, I got the hang of it. It had a nice rhythm to it, actually. She was fairly good at it, and sometimes, she did things to make me feel better. She kissed me, pried my mouth open with her tongue, explored my mouth, kissed my neck, and et cetera.
It felt very, very nice, and I felt very, very good about it.
After our first, we had a bit of a rest, and she told me that I had better do something interesting the second time around. I thought of certain scenarios, but I stopped when I came for the umpteenth time that day.
During round number two, she rode on me again, and it felt much better and was less of a surprise. She would straddle my hips and trace my stomach and kiss my mouth, and I would feel as if I had all the world's greatest riches with me. I kissed her too, a little clumsily, and I played around with her breasts. At one point, we both sat up and pressed our sweaty bodies close against each other, and we kissed.
At one point also, while I was beneath her, she gasped and arched her body back. And then she let out a long, exasperated moan. This frightened me at first, but it was something that I later eagerly awaited.
After that, I turned to her and asked her if something was going to happen to her for having it off with me, but she said no, and then shook her head -- she had done this loads of times before, she explained, and she always knew what to do. I blinked at this and looked up at the ceiling. We were silent for the most part of that couple-minute break.
We did it for another few minutes, and this time, I insisted upon being on top. She happily agreed, and I was able to get used to the air up there. Sometimes, we did it fast, and sometimes, we did it slow, but it was always loads of good fun.
When I was done with her, we were breathing very heavily, and our chests were rising and falling rather quickly. I liked looking at hers.
Then I looked for her hand somewhere beneath the tangle of blankets and, upon locating it, squeezed it tightly. I looked her in the eye, and, breathing still slightly uneven, told her I loved her. She snorted and shook her head. "You're just saying that, you silly twit." I noticed that she fancied calling me silly. Somehow, it made me happy.
I shook my head and insisted that yes, I did, I did love her, and could we please have another go before the day ends? She rolled her eyes, let go of my hand, and pulled me in close. I remember the scent of her neck and clavicle, of the sweaty, salty space between her breasts, of the random strands of her brown hair that fell on my face; but I don't remember anything else.
I must've fallen asleep then and there, I'm not sure. She didn't seem to mind, my so-called big sister.
She didn't seem to mind at all.
--
...
Also. Apologies to bakagaki , but I felt I had to write it down somehow. XD
--
"You think it'd fit, though?" I wondered aloud as I began unzipping my pants.
I turned to her, and she was looking at me, an incredulous and amused look on her face. She started laughing then. At that time, I didn't understand why. It was my first, and I was helplessly clueless. She seemed to find this adorable. I was fourteen then, and I didn't understand a lot of things.
I wrinkled my forehead. "Why?" I started. "What's so funny?" My hands clutched my pants, but they remained there, hovering above my crotch. She giggled again and went over to me and bent down to plant a kiss on my cheek. Obviously, I was quite short for my age.
"Of course it will, silly," she answered, one hand still cupping the left side of my face. "How else d'you suppose your parents did it?" I felt my cheeks flush at this; I could still remember. I didn't like the thought of my parents doing it, and I still don't.
She went back to busying herself with her blouse, and I returned to my pantaloon business. Having unbuttoned them, I slid them off. I felt awkward for a moment, standing there, naked, save for the bright red underwear that I chose to wear.
"You're supposed to take those off too, dear," I heard her say from somewhere behind me. I gulped. I knew that. I did. I just hadn't expected that it would feel odd.
"O-of course."
I slid them off quickly in an attempt to feel excited. It was funny because, before today, I had felt so, so excited -- excited enough to keep thinking about it at night and ending up with one hand inside my boxers. But now, mere minutes -- seconds -- away from the act itself, I couldn't help but feel a little ... scared.
I shook my head. Stupid, I thought to myself. This'll be fun. What're you scared about?
I spun around and saw her, naked, checking her face in the mirror. My hand went up to the back of my neck, and I swallowed something that tasted an awful lot like sandpaper. She must've noticed me staring then, for she turned her head and looked at me.
Her eyes flew downwards and, almost immediately, I knew what she was looking at. Just as immediately, I felt myself go red. And then stiffen. Her mouth took the form of something that appeared to be a cross between a smile and a smirk. She took my arm and led me to the bed. I held myself, somewhat scared that if I didn't, it'd fall off or something. She saw this, and slapped my hand away.
She pushed me down on her soft, soft bed, and I felt my adrenaline rise rather significantly. At this point, she had me pinned down. I couldn't keep myself from staring at her breasts as they fell from her chest. They were like upside-down mountains, capped off with a nice light brown. By this time, some anomaly was beginning to occur somewhere down there, if you catch my drift. I shifted. My exposed feet felt clammy and cold.
"Nervous, are you?" she asked me.
I was about to nod, but then I caught myself. "Bring it on, love," I said, pretending to be something I wasn't just yet. She raised an eyebrow at this, a little impressed, and then she brought it on.
The first that happened was odd. Very odd. Before that, there were explanations, and I had listened to them, but they flew out of my mind the second this "first thing" occurred.
I didn't get it, initially, but it was slimy, and wet, and strange. Then, completely ignoring the sound of her voice, I looked down. And I understood.
"BLOODY SHITTING ARSE TURD HOLE-"
She clamped her hand on my mouth and brought a finger to her lips; I nodded, and she took her hand away. Immediately, my mouth fell open, and I began breathing heavily, very much like a fish that had just been pulled out of water. If I could, I'd have flipped and flopped and turned round and round, but I couldn't. I was deep inside her. Deep, deep inside her.
"Oh, fuck..." I muttered.
She wrinkled her nose and sat up. "Inexperienced, indeed," she said, her arms crossed over her breasts. Just looking at them made things sort of stickier at the bottom, and I felt weirder and weirder by the second. I looked at her, a little embarrassed, and she looked at me, as if trying to make me out. I began to wonder how "experienced" she really was, or if she was just as experienced as she claimed herself to be, or if she was even experienced at all. She was only sixteen after all; a good two years older than myself.
Afterwards, I suppose she was able to make up her mind. She started rocking back and forth. On me. As if she were, well... riding me or something.
I lay there, blinking up at her. Being inside her was like being inside some sort of cave. A wet, sticky, tight sort of cave. It had me feeling oddly well inside. I started out hesitantly, of course, but pretty soon, I got the hang of it. It had a nice rhythm to it, actually. She was fairly good at it, and sometimes, she did things to make me feel better. She kissed me, pried my mouth open with her tongue, explored my mouth, kissed my neck, and et cetera.
It felt very, very nice, and I felt very, very good about it.
After our first, we had a bit of a rest, and she told me that I had better do something interesting the second time around. I thought of certain scenarios, but I stopped when I came for the umpteenth time that day.
During round number two, she rode on me again, and it felt much better and was less of a surprise. She would straddle my hips and trace my stomach and kiss my mouth, and I would feel as if I had all the world's greatest riches with me. I kissed her too, a little clumsily, and I played around with her breasts. At one point, we both sat up and pressed our sweaty bodies close against each other, and we kissed.
At one point also, while I was beneath her, she gasped and arched her body back. And then she let out a long, exasperated moan. This frightened me at first, but it was something that I later eagerly awaited.
After that, I turned to her and asked her if something was going to happen to her for having it off with me, but she said no, and then shook her head -- she had done this loads of times before, she explained, and she always knew what to do. I blinked at this and looked up at the ceiling. We were silent for the most part of that couple-minute break.
We did it for another few minutes, and this time, I insisted upon being on top. She happily agreed, and I was able to get used to the air up there. Sometimes, we did it fast, and sometimes, we did it slow, but it was always loads of good fun.
When I was done with her, we were breathing very heavily, and our chests were rising and falling rather quickly. I liked looking at hers.
Then I looked for her hand somewhere beneath the tangle of blankets and, upon locating it, squeezed it tightly. I looked her in the eye, and, breathing still slightly uneven, told her I loved her. She snorted and shook her head. "You're just saying that, you silly twit." I noticed that she fancied calling me silly. Somehow, it made me happy.
I shook my head and insisted that yes, I did, I did love her, and could we please have another go before the day ends? She rolled her eyes, let go of my hand, and pulled me in close. I remember the scent of her neck and clavicle, of the sweaty, salty space between her breasts, of the random strands of her brown hair that fell on my face; but I don't remember anything else.
I must've fallen asleep then and there, I'm not sure. She didn't seem to mind, my so-called big sister.
She didn't seem to mind at all.
--