Summer Job: White Lace Thong

It didn't take more than a split second between me saying it and the deed being done. I felt the light fabric brush my inner thigh as they were discarded by the vise like hands that grabbed my ass and forced me into the corner. The air went out of me as he was no longer treating me like the princess he always had. I could read it in his demeanor. He was going to fuck me, and fuck me hard. The fumbling at his pants took no time and his cock was posed at my wet folds. I was about to tell him to go ahead like I always had to, but I never got the chance. He drove into me, taking my by surprised. I cried out, and his hand clamped over my mouth.

"You said you wanted me to fuck you," he whispered breathlessly in my ear, "so I am going to. Just like I would any slut at the library or student union." My look of shock at the idea that this nice guy had done this before registered a humorous grin from him. "So do you need me to hold my hand over your mouth, or can you control yourself?" I nodded to the control. He took his hand away and he was instantly deep within me.

It was like he'd become a complete stranger. I'd made love to and had sex with this man many times. Never, it seemed, had he fucked me, until now. He overwhelmed me and left my senses reeling. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from crying out again. I'd always found his cock satisfying and not to large. Now it pushed hard repeatedly against my cervix, causing me a pain, yet ecstasy I had not known before. Though I liked knowing he could do it, I also let him know that I didn't want him to. With a chuckle, he stopped fucking me so deep.

The spaghetti straps of dress slipped down my arms. I didn't need to work it down any further, he took initiative that I had never seen before. One hand on my ass and the other behind my knee moved us out of the corner. My dress was pushed up. My skin stuck to the glass as I felt my ass make contact. He pushed my dress top down exposing my breast, an index finger and thumb seized my nipple and rolled it between them. I moaned softly, "Someone will see...."

I was cut short, because his other index finger slide into me, along the underside of his throbbing cock. His thick finger stretched me a bit more. I took in a quick breath. When I did, he moved his wet finger quickly, inserting it into my ass. Strangely I had no place to go. No surprised expression would come to me. All I could do was let out the breath I had taken in, with a satisfied sigh. "That's a good girl," he urged me on as his finger slowly worked deeper, "you can take it all."

I started licking, kissing, and sucking on his neck when I felt his middle finger start getting lubricated the same way his index finger had. Briefly my mind screamed out to tell him to stop. To tell him no more fingers in my ass. The part of me that wanted them there held my tongue. I whimpered for him to wait, quickly undoing the top buttons of his shirt and exposing his broad shoulder. My lips had barely touched it when his middle finger worked its way into my tight ass. I bit down hard into his flesh causing him to wince and groan with pleasure. "Ohhh! My dirty little girl likes it rough." He moaned as I sucked on his shoulder, shaking from my impending orgasm.

His ring finger started tracing a wet line towards my anus. I couldn't take anymore. "nooo..." I begged weakly. His finger never stopped, but he pushed my legs wide, and pushed himself hard into me. I let out a yelp that echoed down the hall.

"I won't give you more than you can take baby." He reassured me with the head of his cock pressed hard to my cervix. "Do you trust me?"

I nodded that I did. His ring finger was gentle but persistent. It started to enter me, but the resistance was too much. He backed out. Then back in. Fucking me slow and deep all the while. I closed my eyes, rested my head against the glass and tried to relax. My legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth gravitated towards my breast. Another wave came over me, and his ring finger entered me while I clutched his head to my breast. He sucked hard. I bite my lower lip again.

He started talking more, "Oh God, my beautiful whore! You like my fingers in your ass? Huh baby? You like me fucking you hard with my fingers in your ass?" God help me, I did. Not necessarily the actual fingers, though the first one then two were interesting. No, it was the intimacy. That he was finally sharing with me his deep passion while I shared with him mine. It was making the orgasms crash over me in waves.

I could feel him tense, then shoot his hot cum deep into me. "Yes honey, yes!" I whispered my urgency to him. "Cum in me, yes, cum for me." He was spent, staggering back a little while I gained the floor. Weak in my thighs and knees I was glad to sink down and lick his cock clean, tasting the mixture of us on him. Quickly his cock was away and shortly after my dress, rumpled was back in place as well. I grabbed my ripped panties off the floor and tried to wipe myself somewhat clean with them.

That is when I saw it. The funny look he gave me. Was it a look of disgust? Had I committed an unforgivable transgression? I feared showing him my fetish had in some why turned him off. My mind raced on how I would turn it all around if that was it. Maybe I could offer him anal sex to take his mind off what we had just done.... he obviously had interest in it. I tossed my ruined thong in the first trash can we passed and licked the cum that remained seductively off my fingers. All to no effect.

We ran into some old friends of mine in the courtyard. We talked some while my boyfriend seemed a million miles away. I couldn't manage to get him involved in the conversation, which was unusual. I felt the cum starting to ooze down my leg. I tried to sneak off to the restroom, but one friend called out for me to wait. Back in the building, out of earshot, she grinned at me.

"You hussy!" She squealed much to loud and clamped her hand over her mouth with a guilty giggle.

I put on my best surprised, open mouthed shock look. "What?!?" I acted stupid, which I excel at.

"Oh don't play innocent with me!" She warned, while we went through the bathroom door. "You just had sex with that man!"

"I did," my smile betrayed the outrage in my voice, "NOT!"

"No?" She asked in a muted tone.

"No." I reassured her.

"Nice shoes." She smiled at me sweetly.

"Tha...." I looked at my shoes and saw it. The thick, wet white glob that betrayed what I did in my high school hallway.

"It looks like you...." her grin was triumphant and knowing, "spilt something...."

I instantly told her everything. I grabbed some toilet paper and wet paper towels to clean myself and my shoes while she keep laughing and calling me a hussy.

"I can't believe it!" Her voice was high echoing loudly in the tiled restroom. Her voice only got louder as I tired to quiet her. "You stole my fantasy! Oh my god, you hussy! So much for you being such a nice girl!"

I tried to look hurt or angry. I couldn't manage it for more than a second of the silence that passed between us. We burst out laughing as I was forced give more details and to endure being called a hussy some more. We got back to discover that there was an impromptu reunion of friends at one of their houses. I could tell I was going to be tortured over being caught having sex in the halls.

But that was not going to be the first or most painful torment of the rest of my afternoon. The first one would be in the car. "You wore white panties to a wake?" I think I knew it was coming. I could never be sure though. It was like being slapped in the face. Or crashing your car. You always think you knew it was coming after its already happened. It doesn't take away the sting of the initial blow.... especially when you know there's more to come.

I discarded the protest that they were actually cream not white. As a general rule men don't know the difference. And that one didn't. I stepped away from the temptation to start a fight about it. Asking him how hypocritical it was to call that travesty a wake just to take umbrage with the color of my underwear. Or how fucking me and sticking his fingers up my ass was honoring the deceased. But that wouldn't get us anywhere. "It was what I was planning to wear later," I explained quietly, "Just thought it would be easier to change in the car if I didn't have to change underwear." He looked at me as if I were from another planet.

We got to my friend's house. We all seemed to have small overnight bags that we were taking in. While some of us changed the rest of us chatted and gossiped. He was still silent. Disapproving of me in his manner and vacant stare. I went to the bathroom instead of the bedroom and hoped the silent prompt would bring him with me. I went to the bathroom alone. While I changed, I heard the outside door open. The heavy steps down the drive were distinctively male, and there had only been one of those there. The car door slamming, the engine coming to life, and the sound of the car pulling away, were expected. No surprise at all.

Nor were the sounds of whispering close to the bathroom door or tentative knock followed by the soft call of, "Erin, honey, is everything ok?"

I hadn't managed more than my my panties and my top as the silent tears started to trickle down my cheeks. I didn't care. I opened the door to a sea of concerned faces. After getting hugs, arms went around me guiding me into the living room. I told them all what had been happening with me. I told how my boyfriend leaving me over wearing white panties to a wake was just the icing on the cake. The last thing I was really coherent for was a round of calls calling significant others, parents, and/or employers explaining that they had an emergency and was going to be gone all day and night. Drinks were made and to get ready for a long night a couple of the girls went out to buy more.

We talked. We all talked. We talked about our heartbreaks and heartaches. In our pain we gave each other voice. And in those voices we expressed our disappointments and fears. We hugged and cried. We also laughed, sang, and danced. We danced in our underwear under the moon. Well, we did until the cops came. We managed free pizza, bad Chinese, and even found raw cookie dough. We spoke of sex, love, and how we loved being on our own.... even if it did come with all the extra baggage we had to carry. It wasn't until the second morning when we slowly started to awaken that it began to break up with a certain sadness. A sadness that said we might never come this way again.

It is funny how people try to find deeper symbolism or reason for extraordinary events. Even through the years I've never managed to find a deeper reason for that precious moment in time. It wasn't a moment brought on by the death of a person we barely knew that made us reach out to each other. It was brought on by a guy breaking up with me for wearing a white lace thong to a wake. The deeper symbolism or meaning, if you want one, is the bounds of friendship that sees you through dark times. But in the end it is the ordinary things that make the special times that much more special.