Bending Boundaries

That was the thought that made me cross the line, I think. He didn't know he was touching me—he was such a deep sleeper—what would be the harm? The fragments of thoughts came at me faster and faster. What if I could feel a little more than I was now, add fuel to the fantasy, and then take care of myself so that I could get some sleep . . . It felt wrong, but I was having trouble focusing on the morality of it at the moment . . . at the moment this was what I wanted more than anything else. I'd always had trouble controlling my impulses, but never to this extent. The tingles between my legs forced me into a decision.

"Sam?" I whispered. No answer. Again I whispered, and the only response was his steady breathing. My heart racing, my panties getting more soaked, I carefully put my hand over his and slid it over my skin, moving it up . . . up under my tank top and further up until it was resting on my right breast. Again I had a nagging voice in my head telling me this was wrong. He'd said we had boundaries. But then I heard a different voice. A sly, brave voice that said 'This isn't crossing the boundaries. You're just . . . bending them a little.' I smiled, deciding that was the voice I was going to listen to, at least for a while. I pressed Sam's hand more firmly onto my breast and he gripped it reflexively, squeezing. Pleasure shot through me as he unconsciously groped me. I stifled a moan as his finger brushed my nipple.

Slowly I rolled onto my back and moved his hand over to my other boob. I let him touch me on his own so I could reach down between my legs. But on the way down, my hand brushed the fabric of his boxers. The new voice in my head suggested I bend things just a little more. 'Why not? You've gone this far,' it said. This seemed reasonable to me in that state of mind. Tentatively my hand crept over, my fingers lightly searching until I found the slit in the front of his shorts. My heart kept beating faster and my breathing was rapid and shallow. I was worried . . . worried I'd wake him, which would bring an end to things. I realized that I was even more worried that I would wimp out. So I slipped my fingers in quickly, gasping when they touched his dick. ('His cock,' the sly voice corrected me. 'And his hand is on your tit, not your boob.' I could feel myself blushing at the dirtier words. Words I couldn't bring myself to even think, let alone say out loud.) I took his penis carefully into my hand and pulled it through the slit. It was growing as I held it. Jan's descriptions hadn't prepared me for how big it felt in my small hand. I couldn't imagine it fitting inside me, but at the same time I wanted it in me. Of course, that would be going too far. I wouldn't be bending the boundaries anymore—I'd be snapping them into pieces.

So, with regret, I let go of his hardening dick and put my hand over his again. I knew I was still going too far, but I was so wet and my pussy was aching for attention. The rational part of me (the tiny rational bit I still had access to) knew I should have let go of his hand and just used my own, that it was time to stop taking risks. But that voice was so persistent, and it had formed a chorus with my throbbing clitoris. I guided his hand down over my belly, down to the soaked crotch of my panties. I spread my legs and pressed his palm onto my mound, his index and middle fingers against my slit. I could feel the heat coming even through his fingers. He didn't grip me this time, so I moved his hand around for him, rubbing myself with him.

I bit my bottom lip hard to keep from making a sound. I was flowing more now, and the combined pressure of our hands, along with the overwhelming feeling that I was doing something forbidden was bringing me quickly to the point of no return. No longer thinking about consequences, I reached down with my unoccupied hand and pulled my panties to the side. One quick press and his fingers sank into me along with my own, running up and flicking unexpectedly against my clit. My fingers gripped his hand involuntarily and a low moan escaped from me as my muscles clenched and I came explosively on his hand. I don't know how loud I got while I was in the grip of my orgasm, but it must have been loud enough to wake him. I heard Sam gasp suddenly and he pulled his hand away.

"Noooo, please," I whimpered, grabbing for his hand to bring it back to where I wanted it. Instead my fingers closed around his exposed erection and he gasped again. Not able to help myself, I stroked him again and again, knowing this was probably going to be the only chance I'd have to do it. He was awake now, he knew what I'd been up to as he slept. He was going to hate me. "Please," I whispered into his ear as I continued to caress him. "Just once. I won't ask for any more. I need it. Need you. Pleeeease." I didn't even know what I was saying, it was like listening to someone else speaking. My brain had checked out and I was speaking with the new, braver voice from inside my head. For once I wasn't letting things happen—or not happen. I was making them happen, for good or bad.

Sam abruptly grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my hand off his penis. He leaned up, propping himself up with his hands on either side of me and brought his face close to mine. I could feel his hardness pressing against my side. His breathing was rough, ragged. "Vix, no. This is a mistake."

I moaned softly and whispered, "I want to make this mistake." I leaned over and kissed him, letting my tongue shoot into his mouth. He pulled back at once.

It was too dark for me to see him, but I could still tell what expression he was wearing—I knew him that well. His face was most likely drawn into that stubborn look he got when he had his mind made up. The one that never failed to draw a whine from me as I tried uselessly to get my way. There was no whining this time—I'd gone past that point. This time, I decided, I wouldn't ask. I'd already gone too far and probably ruined our friendship, so what would it hurt to push even further? That was what the insistent voice in my head told me anyway. And I'd listened to it this long.

I felt Sam shift and the bedsprings squeaked. He was getting up! I knew I was delving into more dangerous territories and was on the verge of making another mistake I couldn't take back, but at that point I didn't care—I had to keep him in the bed with me. I rolled over on top of him and straddled him, holding him down. We both made gasping noises at the same time—his of surprise and mine because his rock-hard penis was still sticking out of the hole of his boxers and pressing up against my seeping slit. I pressed down, rubbing myself against his length.

"Vickie stop—ohhhh," Sam's stern protest became a low moan that was almost a growl. His penis flexed against me and his hands clamped on my upper arms. He tried to pull me off of him and then stopped when I refused to budge. I weighed more than him, but he was much stronger and I knew I couldn't hold out if he used his full force on me. But he didn't, beyond that one attempt. I pressed down again, rubbing my pussy against him over and over, trying to use him to make myself cum again. "Unh, fuck it," he growled. "I give up Vickie. Do what you want."

That was plenty enough consent for me. I reached between us, stroking him. His penis was wet from me rubbing my crotch against it, allowing my fingers to slide easily. I was shocked at how wet I was, even through my panties. I could feel more of it dripping onto my fingers as I stroked him.

I couldn't tease for long, though. I needed him inside me, needed to finish what I'd started. So I moved my panties aside and aimed him at my opening. Feeling clumsy, I eased him just inside. There was a moment of panic as I wondered if he'd encounter resistance, if it would hurt. If I would bleed. If he'd realize I was a virgin and push me off him, changing his mind. I'd coerced him this far as it was, it wasn't a stretch to imagine him calling it off, hard-on or no hard-on.

I decided that I was more scared of losing my chance to have sex with him than I was of going through with it. I wriggled on him, feeling him sliding inside with agonizing slowness. And it did hurt, a bit. But it also felt good . . . really good. The things I'd done to myself couldn't have prepared me for this. He was much bigger and longer than my fingers, which were the only things I'd had inside me before . . . and only two at that when I was feeling adventurous. It felt like more and more of him kept sinking into me, pushing deeper and deeper—it felt like it would never stop. It turned out the sensations were lying, however, and he wasn't as deep as it felt. He came up against my barrier. Holding my breath, I pushed down harder, determined that he not find out this was my first time. With a sharp stab of pain, the thin skin gave way and he drove all the way in. I cried out at the brief pain.

Sam started to say something, but I ground my crotch against his, moving him inside me. His words—whatever they were going to be—became a long moan. I moaned along with him, planting my hands on his chest and rocking atop him. The last throbs of pain were eclipsed by pleasure, spurring me on. I fell into a rhythm, shifting my hips and moving him most of the way out of my pussy and then back in, rubbing my clit on his shaft along the way.

I got so much into this steady rhythm and the mounting pleasure it was bringing me that I almost forgot he was there. He wasn't helping, he was just laying back and letting me screw him, which admittedly turned me on even more. I could feel myself getting close so I continued the same pace, running my hands over the delicious chest I'd discretely stared at for months.

His hands were suddenly on my waist and he started thrusting up, staying within the rhythm I'd set. The fact that he was joining in and the suddenness of his movements made my orgasm burst—a bigger one than I'd given myself using his hand. I moaned in a high-pitched way, forming a chorus with his deeper groans and the creaking of my bed.

"Uhhh!" he grunted, his hands pushing me away as he squirmed under me. I realized he was trying to pull out of me, but I was still cumming and didn't want it to stop. "I'm—ahhh!" he gasped. I had him trapped and was too busy with my own climax to let him escape me. I could feel his dick stiffening even more and I buried him as deep as he would go. I could feel it spasming and knew he was cumming. My best friend was shooting his seed into me . . . this was Sam's dick—no, Sam's cock inside me . . . the idea of it was too much. It pushed me over the edge again before my first orgasm had even stopped, hitting me with a frightening force. I clawed at his chest as I shook with the explosive force of it, my entire body shaking and quivering on top of him.

It seemed like a very long time before I could think again. I unclenched my fingers from his chest hair and rolled off of him. I peeled off my uncomfortably soaked panties and tossed them over the edge of the bed. Then I laid back, still breathing hard. Now that the fever of my lust had broken, I was able to think about what I'd done. I didn't want to think. I was spent, and exhausted from the exertion.

I rolled over onto my side with a small happy sigh, still feeling the tingles throughout my body. Neither of us said a word. After a couple of minutes of silence and catching our breath, he put his arm around me and settled in closely behind me. I clutched his hand with both of mine and pulled him even closer. I smiled, feeling warm and satisfied and cared for. It wasn't long before his breathing told me he was asleep again. This time I felt sleep encroaching on me too. I couldn't remember ever feeling so relaxed and fulfilled. I had no idea what I'd say to him in the morning, or what he'd say to me, but at the moment it didn't feel like it mattered. The fact that he was holding me was proof enough for me that he wasn't mad at me and that we could stay friends. Or at least try to. If I'd known how wrong I was, I wouldn't have slept at all.

The last thought I had before falling into a deep and contented sleep was, 'Things do have a way of happening. But sometimes you have to give them a little push.'

***

I woke with a hand on my boobs. At some time during the night my tank top had worked its way up, mostly exposing my breasts. Sam's hands were hungry as they explored my soft, firm breasts. His fingers pinched one nipple, rolling it between index and thumb. I gasped at the sudden surge of pleasure his manipulations brought. I could feel something hard poking my backside and realized it was his dick. He was hard again. I wriggled against it whilst making content murmuring sounds.

Sam's breathing was hard and rough, warm against my neck. His right hand slid down my belly and to my groin, his fingers expertly parting my trimmed pubic hair and finding my clit. I tensed against him, spreading my legs enough to allow him access. His hand went to work, his finger dipping inside, then dragging up to my hard bump. He teased it, his fingers moving in circles. He spread my pussy open with his thumb and middle finger, his index finger thrumming directly on my exposed clit.

I reached up and clutched my breasts, one and then the other, flicking each nipple with my fingers, then gripping harder. Sam knew what he was doing—he drove me directly to an orgasm, much faster than I was able to do to myself.

While I was still spasming, he took his hand back and flipped me onto my back. With a small growl he pressed his mouth to mine roughly and this time it wasn't friendly. It was a real kiss—hungry and powerful. His tongue thrust between my spread lips, pressing against my tongue. At the same time he climbed atop me, spreading my thighs with his knees and pressing himself into me. He went in smoothly and effortlessly due to how wet I'd become. I cried out as he filled me up, all the way to my core. There was no pain this time, just the amazing feeling of fullness. I wrapped my legs around him, bucking against him as he started thrusting. There was no hesitation now, just pure need. It was just as I'd always imagined in my fantasies—animalistic and primal. "Ohh, Vickie," he growled.

The sound of him saying my name, the lust in his voice—I cried out again as I came. The orgasm drew out, becoming another and then another. And still he ravaged me without pausing, pumping harder as his moans got louder. It was an incredible feeling to know that I'd driven him into such a frenzy, made him lose all control just like I had only hours before. "Unh, yessss," I moaned, feeling the waves of my multiple orgasms rippling through me.

"Ohhh," he gasped, sounding desperate. He groaned and thrust into me hard, burying himself deeply inside as his dick grew even harder and he spurted into my depths. The base of his spasming penis pressed against my clit and brought me to another climax. Our moans mingled as we came together. It seemed to go on and on, but finally it was over.

Sam slowly pulled out of me and sat back, breathing hard. His seed flowed out in a rush, running over my bottom and seeping into the sheets. I felt very empty without him inside me, and was still tingling. I looked up at him nervously. Were we finally going to talk about this? I watched as he looked off to the side, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. He looked good in the dawn sunlight. He was flushed from the afterglow of sex, and his face had a day's growth of stubble. Even though he looked worried and uncertain, he still looked incredibly sexy and manly. Seeing him like this, it was hard to feel bad about what I'd done. I felt fresh desire squirm in my belly. I wanted to hide under the covers, but forced myself to be brave and continue looking at him. His eyes darted to mine for just an instant and then away again. He scooted back and swung his long legs over the edge of my bed, standing up and striding immediately for the door. At first I was so distracted by the sight of his tight backside that I almost didn't call out to him. "Sam, wait!" I pleaded.

He didn't answer, didn't slow down. He threw open my bedroom door and left. I didn't know whether to rush after him or give in to my impulse to hide under the covers. I tried to get out of bed but my legs were wobbly. I could hear him clattering around in his room. I managed to get up and grabbed my robe from the floor where I'd left it a few nights before. I threw it over my shoulders and peeked into his room. It was empty. Confused, I turned as I heard the front door clicking closed.

Frowning, I returned to my room, letting the robe fall as I walked. The previous night's shame crashed into me again, much bigger now, and I could feel tears threatening. I stopped next to the bed, looking down at the rumpled, sweat-soaked sheets and the spreading wet spot our mingled cum had left. The air of my room was heavy with the smell of sex. Then, the final straw—more of his semen oozed out of me and ran down my inner thigh. I crumpled into a ball on my bed and started crying.

***

After Sam left, I spent a miserable Saturday alone. I confined myself mostly to my room, only leaving long enough for a shower and a bottle of water. I kept running the events of the previous night and that morning around in my head. I tentatively texted Sam, but he didn't respond so I gave up after three. I had ruined everything, taken advantage of him, and destroyed a lifetime of friendship. All because I hadn't been able to control my impulses. I couldn't imagine feeling worse . . . but I knew I would when he finally came home. As the hours went on, depression and regret gave way to panic. I became desperate . . . I didn't want to be there when he came back. I didn't think I could ever face him again. I decided I would have to move out. I didn't know where I would go. I couldn't stay with Jan . . . I couldn't imagine facing her either.

It turned out I had waited too long as I wallowed in depression and uncertainty. I was just starting to throw things into my suitcase when Sam came back to the apartment. Most of my things were still in boxes—I'd never bothered to fully unpack, even though I'd been there for about eight months—and my room was a mess. I was so intent on making my escape that I didn't even hear him come in. I turned with an armful of clothes from my dresser and saw him standing in my doorway. I made a squeak of surprise and dropped the clothes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice dull and with a tinge of annoyance to it.

"Leaving," I said with a huff, kneeling to start picking up the clothes I'd dropped. "And what, you don't answer texts anymore?"

He ignored the question and countered with one of his own. "So you're just going to run away?" he asked peevishly, taking a step into my room.

I felt a sudden surge of anger that flared up past the other emotions I'd been dealing with the entire day. "It's what you did!" I snapped.

He clenched his fists and jaw, stiffly replying with, "I had to figure things out."

"Yeah?" I asked, huffy again. I dumped my clothes into my suitcase and went back to the dresser for more, mostly just for something to keep me from looking at him. As angry as I was, I didn't want to fight . . . I just wanted to slink away and hide. "And did you?" I asked.

"Yeah. I figured out that I'm pissed at you."

I froze, hands still in my dresser drawer. All the fight went out of me. He'd never been mad at me before. This was a side of him I'd never seen before. It frightened me; I didn't know how to deal with it. And besides, I was feeling foolish for being angry at him when I had started the whole thing. This was my fault. I fought back the fresh tears. It wouldn't help anything to start bawling.

"I have one question," he said. I couldn't answer, so after waiting a couple of beats, he continued. "You were a virgin, weren't you?"