Remembering You

It still makes my heart race to remember the first time we made love. If I close my eyes I can remember the smell of the garden outside your window and the warm, summer breeze. And when I close my eyes and remember I see your face above me, your eyes searching mine as your expert fingers worked me closer and closer to an orgasm like I'd never dreamed was possible.

I was the one who made the first move, the first flirtatious gesture that left you flattered but somewhat baffled that a girl so much your junior would find you attractive. I was the one with the steady gaze and the subtle innuendoes, the one with the ability to pop up in the least likely places and make you think things you knew weren't exactly appropriate.

You tried to buy me a drink, not knowing I was underage, but I distracted you with a walk along the river instead. It was one of the first hot summer nights that year: Radios blared from every passing car. We walked and as I watched the reflection of the street lights ripple on the river's surface, you watched me, wondering what to make of my attention.

You passed me waiting for a bus and offered me a ride. You thought of asking me to dinner, then thought better, calculating the 20-odd years between our ages, and though you were perfectly charming I gained the upper hand and left you wordless with a kiss. I leaned close and let you catch the scent of my perfume, let your eyes drop to the opening of my blouse, and left you with no question as to how I felt, my hand slowly making its way up your thigh.

Later you admitted you dreamed of me that night, dreamed of making love in your car, of undressing me and slowly exploring every inch of my body, savoring the scent and flawless youth of my skin. And you woke in the morning, aroused and embarrassed; you were old enough to be my father, after all.

Two nights after the kiss I met you again and you convinced me to have dinner. I dodged your direct questions and drank the wine you bought. I made you blush with my obvious advances and when we left the restaurant, and you were busy wondering how to say goodnight, I turned and asked you to take me home with you.

You could've said no but you didn't. You led me to your car and from there it went like wildfire, neither of us in control of what we were doing. You took me in through the back door and in your immaculate kitchen we shed half our clothes. Our lips met and our teeth clashed and our fingers pulled at buttons and zippers in a frenzy. We climbed and clawed each other like two wild beasts.

Your bed was made, your windows thrown open, spilling jasmine into the air. Your hands lifted me without effort and I felt the coolness of a cotton sheet beneath my back. And as you stood, ready to climb on the bed beside me, I slowly lifted my legs and let my thighs open fully, offering myself up to you. For a moment you only stared and then your warm hands touched my knees, pushing them further apart, as the bed sank under your weight.

I felt your fingers touch me first, gently spreading the lips of my cunt apart, then the blunt, hot tip of your cock pressed against my wet sex and you very slowly but deliberately pushed yourself inside me. I took you all the way and instinctively lifted my hips from the surface of the bed, urging you deeper. You moved slowly, your fingers holding me open while your cock inched its way in and out of me, your eyes fixed on mine.

I was not prepared for the sensations that began to build. I felt my whole body growing fuller and warmer, like a fever creeping up, and an aching tightness deep within my belly. You continued to move inside me, watching my face, obviously delighted by my response.

When you touched my clit it was like an electric shock straight through my cunt. I surprised myself by crying out and arching my back, the direct touch was almost too much to bear. I heard myself moaning beneath you, my own hands moving unconsciously to stroke my nipples as you moved. I was already more aroused than I'd ever been before.

Your eyes dropped and I felt your fingers open the outer lips of my pussy again. I felt your cock slide deep inside me once, all the way as far as you could. We both moaned slightly then you withdrew, your cock left my body. I only had half a second to wonder what you would do next.

You slipped one finger inside my cunt, your eyes back on my face. It didn't feel like much after being filled by your cock, but within seconds a sensation began to grow, an ache that was almost sharp, almost painful, so intense I heard myself moaning, unable to resist vocalizing my intense arousal. I saw you smile slightly, your brown eyes dark and lusty.

Such expert fingers, stroking and pressing, one on my clit, the other only as deep inside me as needed to bring me closer and closer to the brink of coming. Your eyes were full of lust, but admiration too, as you kept a steady pace and slightly increasing pressure on my clit. You seemed to know just how to touch me and my body couldn't help but respond.

When you returned your cock to the entrance to my cunt I all but howled. It felt so good, so exquisitely good, I couldn't do anything but writhe in delight. You began to thrust into me, the pace building quickly, and I saw in your face that you were close to coming too. I felt full inside, but aching too, like I was bruised. I wanted relief to come soon. I raised my hips off the bed slightly and felt the sudden stab of pain and ecstacy as the walls of my vagina convulsed.

I cried out and your thrusts grew more forceful, more fevered, as my cunt throbbed and clutched. Your face was wet with sweaty effort, you jaw set tightly as you fucked me hard. The orgasm was intense, like nothing I'd ever known before, and I felt tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as I came. I was moaning and whimpering, completely unaware of anything but the bliss spreading through my body.

You slowed your thrusts down, watching my face carefully, and once I'd relaxed and let my hips touch the bed again I felt you move forward, leaning over me a little more, changing the angle of your cock.

Then you slowly drew yourself out all the way and pushed back in deep, grunting. Four or five deep, slow thrusts that made me feel full and sore, and then you picked up the pace, your face reddening as you thrust repeatedly, closer and closer to orgasm.

I braced myself against the surface of the bed and let you drive yourself into me, pure friction urging you higher and higher with each second. When you came it was almost violent, your body shook so much. You groaned and pushed into me as deep as you could and I felt the slight pulse between my legs.

When you moved to the bed's surface to lie beside me I lay listening to the sound of our breath, enjoying the scent of the flowers outside, and savoring the ache in my body.

These are the things I recall when I close my eyes and think of you and my heart still races every time.