Choice

I chose the darkened room in the country house
Enough light to read, not enough to be seen.
I sat and opened my book thinking I'd disappear
Into the stories and the lives in-between.
But that young man appeared, so pale, so taut.
Exciting as he watched me, so hungry, so gaunt.

I chose to turn to the window where the light poured through.
Silhouetted myself, placed my body on view.
Ran my hand o'er my breast and down over hip,
My nipples stood high, I felt like a queen.
He moved slowly behind me, he sensed my desire
Fingers sparked my neck, he kindled my fire.

I chose to throw back my head and silently laughed
My hair fell free, my skull met hard shaft!
I had never felt such thing before, though I'd read and reread it in books
It made me tremble with lust, as if we were lovers.
His nails pinched my neck, his hands roamed my shoulder
Down my front to my breasts to my nipples and bolder.

I chose to accept his wandering power. Did he know I was virgin?
My flower intact? My wetness untouched? An innocent lass, brim full of lust?
A twenty year old virgin who'd been loved by just women
With images of manhood that had set my head swimming.
I pushed backwards with the same rhythm as the stroking of my breasts
And felt his cock swell harder, long, strong, lean and menacing.

I chose to put my hand on his thigh, moved slow, low then increasingly high
Till I touched his shaft, squeezed tight the head and uttered a guttural sigh.
My hand kept squeezing his pale hard heat with a beating rhythmic force,
His burning lust would run its course and that course could also be mine.
I turned my face, wildly unbuttoned his clothes, attracted by the pulse.
His hard shiny cock points straight at my mouth with my hand around its base.

I chose to let my innocent mouth linger, and brush a light finger round the end of his dick,
My tongue licks his balls, he makes whimpering calls and my hand squeezes and pulls at his sac
My head ducks and dives, then sucks and slides and he is down to the edge of my throat
He starts seeping come, it runs over my lips, I take him within and suck till he drips.
My fingers squeeze gently, my teeth bite hard, I finger his arse, I pull at his balls, this stranger who calls to Jesus as he comes in my mouth.
And I swallow, again and again, my first ever time. Better than I could have dreamed, hotter than I've ever felt and the swallow is mine and mine and mine. And yet some more is mine.
He has not said a word. Nor me. We touch, we kiss the kiss of intimate strangers.