Alistaire Ch. 06: Bridget

I took deep breath. "I'm going to be the third guy. The one that knows it is your decision. And who knows that you are a more mature, sensible person than he is. And who will be around, willing to do anything for you he can to help you make your best decision, whatever it is." Then I added, "But if you are going to say yes at some point, PLEASE do so before Graduation! If I find out too late that you were going to say yes, I think I'll jump off a bridge."

She just laughed.

"Relax, Al." She took a deep breath. "I'm going to fuck you. Possibly right here, right now, on the field of battle upon which thou didst win my honor," she finished with a Medieval flair, bowing slightly, then straightening quickly enough to make her tits bobble a little.

"I didn't 'win' your... I mean, um... I didn't..."

Thankfully she interrupted me by taking a step closer, standing less than a few feet away. "I'm pretty sure I knew I was going to from the moment you said you wanted me the way you did. But I needed one more dose of drama first. I am still a teenaged girl. Drama is what we do, after all."

I hated myself for saying the next words. "Um, First Guy me is saying 'Fucking-A', and looking around for a comfy spot for us to definitely get busted having sex on at 9:30AM on a sunny day. Second Guy is saying that maybe all the forced drama is a sign you should at least take a step back."

"And Third Guy, the one supposed to be in charge?" Bridget asked.

"He's saying maybe you should explain to him why you think he's remotely worthy to take your virginity? Then you can listen to yourself and make sure you make sense."

She smiled at me and took another step forward. First Guy was pretty much ready to hold Second and Third Guys at gunpoint if they didn't shut up. I was so close...

"And that is why, if I actually need a 'worthy' guy, you are him," she said. "Alistaire, you aren't the first guy to get close, you know."

"Well, yeah. I can think of a couple of guys who I assumed..."

"A couple of them probably assumed, too," she said drily. "Gianni Torrine sure did. But I didn't with any of them, because..."

"No harp music?" I asked quietly. Please don't say it had been because there was no harp music, Bridget. If you say no harp music, I going to have to run away, very fast.

"No, not because there was no harp music with them, asshole," Bridget replied with the cheerful sarcasm that had made her such a good friend for so long. Really. I think the minute we both realized that we actually liked calling each other 'asshole', was the moment we became true friends. "And for the record, there is no harp music with you, either. I'm standing here, with my tits out," she continued, "trying to convince an overgrown string bean to give me my first fucking. A fucking that I suspect will be... what do you always say? Top Notch? Does that sound like a deathless romance's birth?"

"No," I agreed. Despite the subject matter, this suddenly felt like Bridget and Al again. "But if harp music wasn't the requirement, then why didn't you go for it already? You have had some pretty good-looking opportunities."

"Because, in the end, when it came time to decide, I just didn't feel like going that far for the first, or any, time with any of them," she said tartly. "I mean, some you might be thinking of never got anywhere. Some others got a blowjob, or even three. I got eaten out once... twice," she added, after a moment's reconsideration. I really wanted to know if that afterthought there was about Petra. I really, really, wanted to ask, but I wasn't going to risk it. Not right then, anyway. Guy Who Wants to Get Into Bridget's Pants was sssssso close.

"But I just never felt that any of those other guys were going to help me navigate an admittedly major new skillset... unselfishly. And I really wanted a guy who I thought would be the same guy around me afterward as he was before. I didn't ever quite feel like I had found that." She shrugged. Damn, everything she did with her shirt off had amazing results! "

"So I had a chance to suck a few cocks that seemed to deserve that at least, learn that not all sperm tastes bad, and had a pretty amazing orgasm or two." She shrugged again. "But I think I've only gotten pickier just recently. Now, I want a guy who can keep his mouth shut. And I want a guy who doesn't think only with his dick... but does think with it enough." She was grinning now, and I realized that she had closed the gap between us even more. "And finally..." Bridget said, tugging at my waistband and sliding her hand down into my jock. I was powerless to stop her and had no desire left to try. "Finally, I want a guy with a really enormous... Holy Shit!"

Nope. Never, ever, gonna get old.

*

I finally got Bridget to put her top back on, admittedly after an almost complete lack of commitment on my part toward trying to convince her. But decent she was once more, and we had no sooner started walking around the rink to head back to campus and someplace safe than we ran headlong into Dean Fletcher, who had been about to round the corner in the other direction!

"Hey, Dean Fletcher!" Bridget chirped, as if she hadn't just been standing in the open, topless, with a boy, about twenty seconds previously.

Once we got past that nearly heart-stopping moment, Bridget started wanting to work out where we could go right exactly then to 'finish' our discussion.

I shrugged. What the hell. Everything else had blown up. "I have just the place," I said. "It is supposed to Beth's and my secret place, and I'm not supposed to tell any other girl I'm with about it. But I think you ought to get a secret to have too, after all this, right?"

"We are going to tell her," Bridget said sternly. Then she grinned wickedly. "Immediately after we are done with it." Her laugh had always been infectious. "So what is this place you've found?"

"It is the recording studio in the library basement," I said. "I have the combination. It is lockable, out of the way, and unless it has been scheduled, by musicians, early on a Sunday morning, it will be free for a good long while. No one goes in without an appointment, except for deliveries on weekday mornings. And best of all, it's soundproofed!" I finished brightly.

"Soundproofed?" Bridget said, askance.

"Yeah, of course. It is in the library, I mean."

"That is the best thing about it?"

"Sure. Come on. Girls are loud during sex. We really don't want to get caught."

I've gotten pretty experienced by now. Why was I still getting these looks all the time?

We found ourselves trying to stroll but at an almost ridiculous-looking pace. We giggled about it and tried to slow down.

"Hey! What was your time after all that?" Bridget asked, trying to make conversation to fill the eternity until we could be safely in private.

I looked idly down at my watch for the time I'd recorded. "Holy shit!" I exclaimed, shoving the watch out toward Bridget proudly.

"Holy shit," she agreed. Then she swore in mock anger.

"What?" I asked.

"Now if I want you to finally win a fucking race, I'm going to have to offer to show you my tits again."

I looked at her. She looked at me.

"I'm gonna win a race," I sang. "I'm gonna win a raaaace!"

*

The schedule for the recording studio was indeed open, and I let the door close behind us gently. The second it clicked, I felt Bridget's top slap into the back of my head. I started, then slowly turned around, only to feel her sweaty bra hit me in the face. No soggy piece of heavy fabric ever felt so amazing. I yanked off my own shirt as fast as I could. Still...

"Hey," I started, then instantly got side-tracked. "I know I didn't say this out loud before, but you have the most beautiful chest on the planet, okay?" I shook my head to free my eyes from said chest. "But we can slow down. The room is not scheduled until four in the afternoon, and we would be missed at D&D before then anyway! We have all the time in the world."

"I know this is not how the dynamic is supposed to work," said Bridget, who was, oh my God, pushing her panties down to her ankles. Her pubes, wispy and soft, were as red as the hair on her hair. Oh, God. Oh God. "But now that I have finally decided to do this, and have the logically arrived at Mr. Right lined up, I kinda want you to be Mr. Right Now."

I flushed at that, but protested, "But, we have a lot of things to do first!"

"First?"

"Well, sure," I said, trying not to sound like I was some kind of expert talking to a virgin—a virgin who still probably had as much experience as me in pretty much everything but. "Like, we need to make sure we both get in a really satisfying orgasm or three first, right?" She looked at me calmly. "I mean, to get you ready for, well, this." I gestured southward. "And..." I blushed, a little embarrassed. "And to make sure I don't go off too soon the first time when we do finally..." She was just looking at me with yet another unreadable expression. "I mean, I know it's embarrassing, and I'm sorry in advance. I'm getting better, I promise, but my first one usually comes on pretty quick. And the prospect of my first time with you already has me on a hair trigger. I'm learning to get better, I'm serious. Why are you suddenly laughing? Please don't. I'm babbling, I know it's funny. But I'm serious about having a hard time holding back the first time," I said, tugging off my shorts and jock, eager to shuck the very uncomfortable strictures. "And Bridget? Seriously, looking at you right here, right now... I'm lucky I'm not coming already, just from the view."

She blushed, but I instantly realized that she wasn't even listening much to my attempt at a compliment. She was staring at my slowly bobbing cock. I thought I was about to get a second Taj Mahal moment, but instead she just took a deep breath and said, "Yeah. I guess it is going to take some getting ready for that..."

I grinned and pounced on her, my ankles finally feee of the jockstrap. "I have some ideas on that front," I said, to which she quietly shrieked in response.

I was honestly surprised that no one ever said anything about how one of the big, wide, upholstered vinyl chairs from the reading lounge mysteriously needed to be in the recording studio. Everyone, including the faculty, seemed to assume someone else wanted it down here... It had taken Beth and me an hour to get it down and in without anyone noticing the move.

I plopped Bridget down on that chair and bent over her. Sex could wait, all the other preliminaries could wait, on this... I leaned in and kissed her. She moaned a little as our lips first touched, and she almost instantly shushed herself, mostly by reaching and pulling my head down against her and locking her mouth onto mine. Aside from confessing that I really did almost come, just from the touch of her lips, I will only say about that first, magical kiss that, holy cow did she have a wonderful tongue, capable of mighty feats. In no time, I lost my balance over her and collapsed on top of her. We managed not to hurt each other in the fall, and I almost forgot about the things her tongue was doing to first my mouth, then my ear and my throat. I almost forgot because my hands had leapt with no restraint at all onto her breasts.

Ohhhh, those tits. They were so nice and big. They were incredibly firm and damn-near gravity-defying, but so warm and soft to the touch. And she definitely liked having them grabbed a little. Maybe a lot. Her nipples remained yearningly erect against my palms and fingertips. I wanted to suck on them so badly, but that would mean removing my mouth from Bridget's face, and she was having none of that, holding my head firmly in place by the hair behind my ears as she kissed her own way from earlobes, to throat, to lips again.

Even if I lost half my hair, I had to move downward. I shook her grip from my hair and slid downward atop her. I stared down at those tits for a moment before just, spontaneously, burying my face between those incredible feeling mounds, rolling my head all around while pressing them against me.

I had to come up for air eventually (I exaggerate, of course. She was generous, not cartoonish), and found myself almost instantly wrapping my lips over the entire expanse of one tiny aureole, and sucking for all I was worth with a hunger that surprised me. It seemed to surprise Bridget. She gasped.

"Are you okay?" I asked, pausing. "Was that too hard?"

Bridget just responded by grabbing my head again and pulling me back against the same nipple. "Not... hard enough," she groaned as I did my best to comply, sucking as hard as I could and flicking my tongue wildly over her erect nipple inside my mouth.

I decided I wanted to do this forever, though it would be hard to avoid starvation with this tit in my mouth permanently. I still would have given the idea a try, but I wanted to continue moving lower even more. I knew I had even better stuff to do.

I slid down her luscious torso, past her sleek, flat tummy, and came to rest, kneeling before her, between her trembling, spread legs. I leaned in.

Stale sweat is the worst smell on the planet. But fresh, well-earned sweat from exercise, rather than heat, can be intoxicating. Combined with the aroma of her pussy, I was practically drunk in moments.

I knew I should tease, I should take my time with kisses along the thigh, or gentle caresses of the lips down there. A kiss would be nice. A series of licks on the belly would be better, perhaps.

But all too often, as with this time, I just can't wait. A soft kiss, right on what there was of her wispy little fiery bush, a wet, slobbery lick up the top of each inner thigh, and a nuzzle of her belly button were all the preliminaries I could manage for Bridget before I dove in between her legs in earnest.

I pressed my lips against hers, redolent with aroma, and hummed gently, letting the vibrations transmit against her pussy. Then I extended my tongue and dragged it from top to bottom, and back up. She was damp and tasted wonderful. I rocked down so I could look up at her and saw that she rolled her head back as far as she could. I brought a hand up to caress her slit for just a moment so I could lift my head and croon, "Lift your head please, Bridget," I said softly. "I... look me in the eyes."

She lifted her head slowly, "Wha? Okay? Why?" She asked, already sounding a little mentally disorganized. That was promising.

"I just want to see your face," I said. "You know, for when you... you know."

She seemed to focus for just long enough to snort at that for some reason, then just nodded and her hands pressed my head back down softly, but with entreaty.

I let my tongue press slowly into her, watching as her eyes widened, then softened in response. But she kept her head up so she could keep eye contact with me. I massaged my tongue in and out of her, mining both to different depths and forward and back inside of her. I studiously avoided her very top area though, watching for when the time was right. Over, and over I massaged her insides with my tongue, and her legs from thigh to calf with my hands. When she suddenly shuddered and made just that noise (you know the one, right?), I slid my tongue upward and in, but a moment later I finally sought her clitoris and lashed at it swiftly, up and down.

Bridget's slitted eyes flew open and her mewling sprang louder, even though she tried to clamp down her mouth on the noise. Anther single lash at her clit and her hips bucked pretty violently. She lost control, crimson flashed across the pale skin of her face, highlighting the splash of freckles on her cheekbones. Her head then snapped back again, and her hands clutched almost painfully hard in my hair, pressing my face into her crotch. And she fucking outright screamed, "Fucking hell! OH! Oh! Oh! OH! Fucking, fucking, hell," all at the top of her lungs.

And then, like the proverbial puppet whose strings are cut, she collapsed completely onto the chair, still staring upward at the ceiling. "I'm going to die," she muttered happily. I raised up straight on my knees and checked to see if I had any hair left or if she had yanked it all out.

"I'm sorry I stopped looking at you," Bridget said groggily, finally looking away from the ceiling, and back to me.

"That was great," I reassured her, "I saw exactly what I wanted to see."

"And fucking hell, man! That was the loudest noise I think I've ever made in my life for any reason."

"Well, yeah. Right?" I said, shrugging.

Bridget gasped a quick laugh. "Do you ever exaggerate anything about sex?"

"Why bother? It would all become pretty evident anyway."

She just shook her head. "Then I guess you are going to need my best blowjob, so you don't go off the second you finally deign to break down and put that thing inside me." We both laughed at that one. I laughed appreciatively in more ways than one.

She struggled to her feet, and Bridget commanded me to sit in the chair. I sank into it, cock waving around, practically grumbling about how long it had had to wait. Bridget, in turn, slid to her knees, and leaned over my thigh to caress and examine me. Her brow furrowed.

"Look, Alistaire," she said earnestly. "I think I have leaned some things about what I am doing down here. Really. But I am just a little worried about how I'm supposed to deal with this. I mean, you know... it's yours after all. Any advice?" She laughed at herself.

"Honestly?" I shrugged. "This is about the one part that I don't study much when it is going on. I mean, I just like lie back or stand there, relax, watch her face, and enjoy her enjoying herself." I trailed off, vaguely aware that that was a possibly odd way of describing oral sex to a girl who was contemplating giving it to me for the first time. "Oh, and tongue. I like lots of tongue, please," I added eagerly.

"I do aim to please there," Bridget said. And with that, she bent to drag her tongue around my head and up and down my shaft with oddly intense laziness. Yes, she was definitely pleasing already! "What ahmlent," Bridget tried to continue talking, despite keeping her tongue on my cock in some way or another, "ith how muth of thith can a glurl weawy take?"

It took me a second before I got it. "Oh! Well... I dunno. It doesn't really matter in the end, does it? I've always been happy no matter how far down and all, in the end. Very happy," I said, and Bridget relaxed. "I mean it is pretty amazing," I went on as she started licking again, "when Carla takes it all the way, right to the root, but..."

"What?"

"Well, yeah, but come on, I think that is actually pretty freaky, right? I mean a guy has to hope for no more than at best half of that, right? And anyway, the best part is always the tongue... and the lips... Oh, thank you," I kind of trailed off as Bridget started licking me again. "Thank you."

"Don't ever change, Alistaire," Bridget murmured, taking a moment to rub me all over her face, dragging my helmet across her cheeks and over her nose.

"I thought the whole reason this is happening is because I did change."

"Not in your soul," she said softly, and suddenly wrapped her lips around me and started suckling on my cock like it was a baby bottle. What a nice thing to say.

Not as nice as what she was doing with her mouth once she had said it though. She had both hands stacked around my shaft, not jacking me or anything, just gently massaging. All the action was up at the top couple of inches, buried between her lips and being tortured by her head bobbing up and down around it, with her tongue inside, as requested, slowly thrashing around me. Her mass of tight red curls, bobbing up and down on my lap was possibly the best view of my life... after the one of Carrie naked beneath me on the hood of the Mercedes.