Abigail's Awakening Pt. 11

She worked the rest of the week and Jack visited her all three days. They made small talk, but she stayed behind the counter. She didn't talk about Tim, who had started texting her morning and night, mainly just to say good morning or goodnight, but also to checkup on what she was up to and how she was feeling. Tim really was a sweet hearted fellow, and he would certainly make an excellent father.

Jack respected the enforced distance, didn't ask her to leave the store with him or even suggest it once. After Wednesday, when he seemed to be trying to feel her out, he just said hello and goodbye, and whatever they said in between had the air of the inconsequential.

Tim wanted to go out on Saturday night, as they were both off work. She agreed to an evening walk, followed by dinner at a local steak-house called Cory's.

In the days that led up to Saturday, she didn't really feel the anticipation for their meeting that she felt she should. She was feeling numb, in more ways than one. At night she was having bizarre repetitive dreams, repeating the same gesture of bagging up a set of rosary beads, over and over for what seemed like hours.

The last look Jack gave her on the way out of the store was wistful. But he held so much back, and did not unleash the tides that would wash over her barriers and carry her away. She missed him when he was gone, but she could not bring herself to entertain the idea that he might be the right man for her. He simply was not. Maybe Tim was not either, but that she'd have to find out for herself.

At home, she was getting good at avoiding her father, except at dinner time.

"I've got to do laundry," she'd said, Wednesday night at the dinner table, "cuz all of my underwear are dirty." She watched her father closely as she said this, studying the lines of his face. He just looked down, fork in food.

"That's a little too much information, now isn't it, Abby?" her mom said. "Certainly nothing to think about over dinner."

"I just didn't understand how they all got dirty so fast."

"The older you get, the more time flies."

Her dad didn't chime in at all, only looked up at her when he was chewing his food, mouth full. She had lost all respect for him, even as she'd explored new and dangerous terrain herself. There was no place in her for acceptance of what he had done. Maybe he hadn't done anything to physically hurt her, but he'd crossed the line of indecency into the realm of, to her, mortal sin.

She did start praying for him, again, the way she always prayed for those who did her wrong. She prayed for him more for Mom's sake than anything else, she told herself.

Saturday finally came, and she found herself doing something that surprised herself. She took out a wad of cash from her money-sock, and she drove to Pleasure Principle, the local sex shop, on the outskirts of town. It was a weird idea, originating as it had from her conversation with Darla.

When she got inside, she could feel the two men who were there giving her a lot of unwanted attention. They kept looking up at her every few seconds, taking more interest in whatever she was looking at than the objects they had at hand, one looking at magazines while the other pored over the available Flesh lights.

"I'd like to...to use one of your booths," she said, to the forty-some year-old woman with long brown hair framing her extra-large knockers. Those things probably couldn't stand on their own anymore, but they sure would make some man happy. She looked down at her own boobs, for once seeing them as smallish. They had always been too big for Abigail, who had grown up embarrassed by the thought of anything sexual. She would've been happy, in the past, with no boobs. But today, she felt like she wanted more.

"Do you need any toys or anything, hon? It doesn't look like you brought your own."

"I don't know. Does it help?"

"These bullet vibes are the best bang for your buck, but you won't get a charge on one in time for you today. I'd recommend one of our rubber dildos. We have them in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and colors, to best suit your needs."

The attendant, whose name was Rory, helped her look through the massive collection of dildos, giving her an idea of how each one was special. Abigail finally decided on a 6" black dildo, with a narrow ribbed shaft and a tip rounded to the shape of a penis. The cock-and-balls shape of the object would've once off-put her. In the mood she was in now, she found it rather endearing, cute even. Rory threw in a vial of water-based lube with her purchase and pointed her back to the back hall that led through a swinging fiber-glass door into the booth.

There was a chair, and a cubby for her things, and an elbow-high surface to set a magazine or her phone on, on which was setting a small television with a DVD player plugged into it. A shelf of DVDs with titles that made her laugh and cringe at the same time, stood opposite the cubby. She didn't think she'd need the porn. She got started.

She was wearing a knee-length plaid skirt that she'd always thought was one of her sexier items of clothing. She didn't feel that way anymore, but she did feel sexy slipping out of her pink undies from underneath her skirt, stepping out of them as they descended to the concrete floor. She tossed them in the cubby, then attended to the dildo. She lubed it up with what was probably way too much lube, using half the vial at once.

She massaged the dildo, reminded of Jack's penis, which happened to be roughly the same length and girth. She kissed the tip of it, spontaneously, thinking of Jack. Warmth spread through her crotch as she thought of him, the times they'd spent together. She wanted to think about no one other than him right now, and she pushed her date with Tim forever into the future with her mind. I'm the present, she was present with her thoughts of Jack.

She sat down and spread her legs. She held the dildo up under her skirt. She massaged the outer rim of her vagina with it, awakening feelings that she'd only known in dreams. Her clitoris swelled with blood. She pinched it between the fingertips of her other hand, then pressed the dildo's head against her entrance. Her pussy yielded to the slippery rubber object; little by little it entered her. Two inches in, she took a pause, pulled it in and out of her rhythmically, but staying shallow. She pinched down on her clit, as she drove it another two three inches deeper. Nothing had ever penetrated her before, and pain mixed with the pleasure that was fulfilling her, giving way to need and want that spoke at the heart of things.

She learned as she went, and by listening to her body, she discovered how it liked to be treated. Variety, she learned, truly was the spice of life. When she switched up her flow with dildo, or caressed another part of her pussy or pelvic region with her fingertips, the pleasure mounted inside of her. She could feel the momentum of her first real O, as it built up, making her nervous system sing.

She rocked back and forth in the steel chair, trying to keep finding the spot, the timing, the heart of her need, the relief to her craving. She mumbled and moaned, keeping it at a low volume due probably to her modesty.

Fifteen minutes in, a man walked through the push-door, looked at her across the distance. She wasn't naked before him, had the protection of her clothing, and she returned his stare. She kind of liked him watching like that. It made her feel like she was doing something really hot, the way he'd stopped just to look. He left after a long minute, maybe afraid of getting caught by someone in the establishment.

She was alone again, with her thoughts. She thought about her day at the park with Jack, the way they'd sat in the grass in that grove of maple trees and he'd showed her how to touch herself. He had given her a great gift, the gift of pleasure, and even now she didn't know if she appreciated it properly. For one, she was still going out with Tim.

She closed her eyes and saw Jack's eyes looking back at her, in her mind's eye. Looking into those eyes, she was able to relax her focus so that her hands took control, worked at their own whim.

Now used to the pressure of a rod inside her, she went faster and faster, drilling herself into the ground. Her fingers massaged her clit in slow circles while the dildo hammered into her, as fast as she could jog her wrist. Her forearm was getting sore. She bit down on her lip and held on through the soreness and discomfort.

She didn't exactly see it coming, but she knew it when it arrived. She pulled the dildo out of her and squirted all over the chair and floor. She licked her fingertips clean, indulging in that moment in the grossness of it all.

"Booya," she said, as she came.

Her first real orgasm in waking life took twenty-five minutes to arrive. She sat in silence for the last five minutes of her rented time, and felt the different waves of sensation that washed through her afterwards. When it was time to leave, she stuffed her underwear into her bra, not wanting to deal with putting the panty back on.

Rory gave her a sparkly wave on her way out of Pleasure Principle, but Abigail only nodded in return. She had never felt so alone, never known how thrilling being alone with oneself could be.

She wrapped the dildo in a black plastic bag and hid it in her trunk. Yeah, I've got junk in my trunk, she thought. She enjoyed the feeling of perving out that little bit over her words. She left the parking lot, wanting more, and then even more. She decided she would masturbate again that night, when she got home from her date. It gave her something positive to look forward to, as right now she was not looking forward to being alone with Tim.

She drove to the Red Fox Fields Trailhead, arriving fifteen minutes before their scheduled meeting time. No one was around, so she popped the trunk and took out her dildo. She wanted to look at it again. It really was the size and shape of Jack's thing, fit nicely in the grip of one hand. She looked at it and thought that whatever his proportions may be relative to other men, and giant-handed Tim in particular, it didn't matter because he had what it took to pleasure her completely.

She put it away and sat back in her car, waiting. Tim arrived late by four minutes, said he was sorry, but traffic. They set out down the walking trail. The heat of the day had long since passed into a warm summer evening with a gentle cooling breeze from the west. While they were walking, Abigail could tell Tim was looking around for somewhere for them to do something. Oh no, she thought, what does he have in mind?

He turned in the trail and faced her, blocked her way forward so that she had to stop and look up at him. His eyes were lit up with a certain zeal, a desire searching for its outlet. He started by hugging her, squeezing her close to him, when she acceded to the embrace. Then he held her by the sides of the arms, touched her cheek in an oddly mournful gesture, then he took his courageous leap: he leaned in for the kiss. His lips met hers but Abigail didn't kiss him back, instead she pushed him away. He came back in, a bit more forcefully, and laid some wet smooches on her unresponding lips. When he pulled back, she wiped his spittle off her lips with her shirt-sleeve.

"I think you're moving too fast for me."

"I don't think I could go any slower. Maybe you just aren't ready for a relationship."

"I think I am. I just want the timing to be more, I dunno, apt."

"Maybe you'll never be ready." He stormed off down the trail back toward their vehicles, leaving without her.

"Wait." She raced to catch up with him, grabbed him by the arm in both her arms, and leaned heavily against him while he tried to walk a straight line. Their feet got tangled in the shuffle and they tripped and fell together into the waist-high fieldgrass. Instead of getting up, she crawled over to his side and started planting smooches on his cheeks. "Is this what you wanted?" she asked, getting sloppy with it. Now she engaged a lip to lip kiss, he kissed her back right away, and they began to make out in the grass.

He held her by the back of her head, their mouths smashing together. She held her hands on his chest. His hands reached out, unsure what to do, but sure of what they wanted. He gripped her by the knee and lofted her up in top of him so that she had his midriff mounted. Her lips pecked and plastered him with kisses. He tried to slide his hand up and under her skirt, but she blocked him from doing so. He then grabbed her by the ass-cheek and gave it a squeeze.

She moaned a little bit, pretending for him. He believed every bit of her lie, or if he didn't, he at least called her bluff. Tim took Abigail's little hand in his massive hand and pulled her arm down so that her hand pressed against his crotch. She didn't want to touch him like that, not yet, not anytime soon, but her hand was trapped there by his brute strength. When she tried to wriggle it free, he drew it back again and then under the seam of his pants. His cock was burning hot to the touch. And it was big, way too big. Her hand, she soon found, was barely big enough to get all the way around it.

When he felt her voluntarily take him in her hand, he let go of her wrist so that he could unzip his fly and give her room to work. His cock rose up in the open air, reaching 10.5" towards the sky. It was a towering monolith of want. In her hand, she felt all of it, all of Tim's tempestuous desire, all of his animal instinct honed to a point. In that torrent of wishful willing impatiently withheld but ever readiness of his Want, Abigail was swept away.

All he wants is all any guy wants, she thought, or so I've learned. Who am I to withhold everything from everyone? Oh God, forgive me for being so stubborn for so long. I've used your Name as an excuse for not living, for not bringing life to the others in my life.

She got lost in the moment, indulging not in her own pleasure but in his. She liked the way she could give him everything he ever wanted, right then and there. She had already masturbated herself and another man. What was the difference, anymore?

He hadn't asked, so when the time came, she didn't either. She held him down by the penis and climbed back on top of his chest. She already had no panties on, so the next part would be easy. She eased her hips back until she found the tip of his rod press against her womanhood. She made circles with her hips, swirling the tip of his dick around the portal to her insides.

"Wait," he said, already too late. "Aren't you a virgin?"

"Not anymore."

He couldn't hold back a greedy, self-pleased smile that made him look slightly demonic there on the ground, in the gray light under an overcast sky.

"Now I have to marry you," he said.

"You should but you don't have to."

She found it physically impossible for her virgin vagina to take him all the way inside her, 7" or so being the limit of what she could take. She slid across those seven inches, pulled back away squeezing her pussy muscles around his shaft as she did so. He came way too soon, out of nowhere, as he too was a virgin and had no control over his pleasure. The result was he busted his nut right inside her.

She jumped up in a panic. "What did you do?! I'm not on any birth control."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it."

"You could've warned me."

"It was my first time. I didn't know it would happen so fast."

"So now neither of us are virgins anymore. High five to that, right?"

"Yeah," he said, sitting up. "What would our dads think of us now?"

"I really wouldn't want to know," she said, with more honesty than he was imagining. "But," she said, beating her hands against his chest as he stood up, "what do we do? I don't want to be pregnant. I can't be pregnant yet. I can't."

"I can buy you a morning after pill. That'll fix it."

"Isn't that the same as abortion?"

"It's not as bad. Everything is going to be alright."

"What choice do I have anyway?"

"We'll have to be more careful next time."

She found his audacity to assume there would be a next-time to be off-putting. She couldn't imagine looking back on this scene and craving him. She looked at that oversized dick in her mind's eye and saw a chore, nothing more. Could she learn to serve him? Maybe. Did she desire to? Emphatically no.

"Yeah, next time."

He wanted to hold her hand, as they walked back to their vehicles. She felt uncomfortable and forced, but she did it anyway.

"If I do get pregnant, will you marry me?"

"Yeah, probably."

She frowned. "Probably?"

"I think I would."

"You don't sound too convinced."

"You're not going to be pregnant. I promise."

"You could still act excited by the idea of marrying me, after I just gave you my virginity."

"What's so exciting about getting married?"

She had more to say, but she held it all in. She didn't like his responses, didn't understand how he could be so callous. Hadn't she just given him everything? The least he could do is offer his tenderness and compassion.

They agreed to skip dinner, so she could go home and clean up. They stopped together at Target to buy the morning after pill. She insisted he pay for it.

"We should go halfsies," he said. "It was your fault too."

"No it wasn't," she said, feeling a little bit heated now. This was unbelievable. Was chivalry truly dead? "You came without telling me. That's on you. One hundred percent."

"Fine, I'll buy it. It's only fifty bucks anyway."

Tim didn't offer her a hug goodbye, so Abigail had to force a hug on him that apparently neither of them wanted, out of a sense of decorum for what they had just done together. It was a short, curt hug. Then he left her in that parking lot, to go home alone and take that pill.

Well, she thought, he must've gotten everything he wanted. Now there's nothing left for later.

She drove home, listening to her Christian music station, singing along rather quietly and absent-mindedly. When she thought about it, she didn't mind being alone after spending time with him. She didn't need him. Maybe that was a good thing.

She snuck her dildo and her morning after pill into her bedroom, hid the dildo at the bottom of her jeans drawer, read the instructions on the morning after pill, and took it.

She woke up in the middle of the night in a mortal terror. God, she thought, I wish I was still a virgin.

TO BE CONTINUED