Cultural Exchange

"Stop. You are one of the most popular girls in school. And you're a size 10 at most." How could she, of all people, be so insecure? He found it so hard to credit.

"..and I hate my freckles, you wouldn't believe how long I spend on foundation trying to cover them up..."

"Samantha, please. Stop. You are beautiful, and we both know it."

She smiled. "It's kind of you to say so. The girls are so bitchy. That's our thing, baiting each other. They're so much thinner than me, blonder than me, leggier than me."

"You do have a couple of points in your favour," Paul said, then instantly regretting letting his mouth run away with him.

"Paul! I can't believe you said that!" But she was chuckling, and Paul was smiling too. "Sorry, but it's still a shock to hear you talk that way; last week, we all thought you were gay. I never realised you were ogling my tits."

Paul didn't really know what to say to that. A denial felt dishonest. "I suppose the effeminate voice and the love of musical theatre might have given you the wrong impression..."

"Do you really think I'm attractive?"

"I don't know how you can ask that, Samantha. I mean, have you seen you?"

Boyfriends had called her a fox, smoking hot, a sexy bitch, and nastier dirtier things. They'd shown her with their groping hands, with their hard-ons pressing against her arse, what they thought of her. Not the same thing at all. The only man who ever called her beautiful was her father, and from him it was kind-of an obligation. She leant forwards and kissed him, on the lips this time. "Thank you."

"Ow!" he mumbled. His mouth was still sore from being punched in the face last night.

"Sorry!" she said, automatically.

Paul looked at her. Her light brown hair framing her perfect face, nose slightly wrinkled and dusted with freckles, green eyes sparking like his own. And those pouty red-pink lips, soft and delicate and so recently pressed against his own. He wanted that again. So, he leant back towards her, and returned the kiss. He pressed his lips on hers and held there, for a long time, not caring about how sore he was. He couldn't feel that, anymore. Their lips moved, gently grasping at each other. Then she started to open hers, expecting more. Oh god, what do I do now, how do I do this? She wanted him to kiss her, like they do in films. He had no idea how to proceed, but he had to do something. Delicately, he slid his tongue forward and traced it across where their lips met. She opened her mouth further, and his lips followed hers, and his tongue slipped inside her. She met it with her own, and sucked the tip of his tongue into her. Then she took over, showing him with her tongue in his mouth how she liked to be kissed. For now, after the sucker punch, it hurt; but he didn't care - his mind was lost in the dream, happier than he ever remembered being. There was something he was supposed to be doing, but it didn't seem important. Breathing, keeping his heart beating. Mere details, unimportant. All that mattered was the kiss.

Paul felt her hands, small like his own, tracing up his arms, under the blanket. He found his own hand reaching around across her almost-bare shoulder, round her neck and into her hair. Her tongue probing deep into his mouth, licking and tasting the whole of him. Then it slid back through her lips, and she pulled away.

"Wow," she said. "Where did that come from?"

Paul shrugged, genuinely not knowing. It just felt right. His hand was lost, stroking the hair at the nape of her neck.

"And you've never kissed a girl before?"

Paul shook his head.

"Well, fuck. It only gets better from here." And she leant back in, and they were French kissing again. After a while, she turned her head and whispered in his ear: "This is the part where you start touching me up," and slid her moist tongue into his ear.

Paul's spare hand reached across and found her tummy, stroked up the side of her body and found her large breast. He cupped it, feeling the weight, loving how it moulded to his hand as he pressed his palm against it. Samantha turned her head back and they were kissing again. He stroked across the warm flesh with his thumb, found the nipple and brushed over and over it. My god, he thought, I'm holding Samantha's boob! And the thought surprised him. He'd had sex with three women on this trip, two in the last 24 hours, so why was this so different?

Because it's her, he realised. She's different. He'd wanted this for years. Ever since he woke up one morning with that switch flipped in his brain, the one that made him notice the patterned lace pressed against the straining fabric of her thin white school uniform blouse, he'd wanted her. Every night that he'd woken up in a sweat with a damp patch between his legs. Every bedtime he'd stroked himself to release while daydreaming about her, so the endorphins would just stop his damn brain from thinking for a while, and let him sleep. And now here she was, not only not bullying him but insisting he touch her.

God, she was so horny. How was he having this effect on her? He was just a guy - no, not even a guy; a nothing, a void, at least until a few days ago. Now she was begging him to cop a feel while she sucked his tongue and licked behind his teeth. What was the matter with her? But her pussy was flooding from his touch, and her hands had a mind of their own. They wanted, needed, to know whether the other stuff the boys said about Paul was a lie too. She started to run her hands up his thighs, to find his hardness. And there it was - no giant cock, for sure, but not a micropenis like they'd claimed. It was just right, like the rest of him.

Fuck, Paul's brain screamed, she's stroking my dick! Oh god, please don't come, please don't come. Thank God he wasn't a virgin anymore, or otherwise he'd be shooting his load straight off. What do I do? But his hand knew what to do. Reluctantly it peeled itself from the heavenly tit, and dropped down into her lap. He tucked it under the hem of the microskirt and slid it up to the top of her thigh. Even being touched there sent a shock through her, and she kissed him more intently, like she was trying to deepthroat his tongue. He felt for the leg hole of the knickers before realising she was wearing a bodysuit. Stroking around, he found the poppers - the material was damp, and Paul was flattered and amazed that he'd done that to her. He pulled at the poppers, tearing at the opening, and one gave way.

"Fuck, you're keen," she said. Paul froze. Had he gone too far? "For the love of God don't stop now," she said, reaching for the zip of his fly. Paul pulled at the material again, hard, and the other poppers gave way. He slid two fingers into her waiting slit as she reached into his open fly. He tried pushing the fingers deeper inside her, but couldn't reach round from this angle. Samantha slid forward in the seat, bracing her knees against the one in front. "My clit," she said, gasping. With a silent prayer of thanks to Sophie, Paul started to stroke and flick at Samantha's clit, just like he'd been shown the previous night. She wrapped her fingers around his dick and started to stroke him. The movement caused the blanket to slide down, pooling in their laps.

Wow, I can't believe he's a virgin, she thought. His fingers are magic. But then again, what was she comparing with - clumsy gropes behind the bike shed? Boyfriends past were mostly concerned about their own pleasure; sure, she'd given a load of blowjobs and tit wanks, but none of them had ever touched her the way Paul was touching her now. Not with that skill or assurance. And she'd never been taken in public, where anyone could turn around and see at any moment. God, he was going to bring her...

Paul saw her face, and her chest, flush as she concentrated on her breathing. He could see her heaving breasts rise and fall, the bodysuit material straining to hold her in, and wanted to dive into the dark valley of her cleavage. Her hand had stopped stroking his dick, had gone slack, and he noticed her eyes were closed and her mouth open. He put his ear near her mouth. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she was saying, over and again. Then he saw her whole body twitch, and her head lolled forward, and she was shaking. "Stop, please stop," she told him, and he took his hand away from her pussy. "You bad, bad boy," she said, eyes shining with a mixture of amazement, content and delight. "How can I possibly thank you?" she said, resuming stroking his dick.

"Don't, I'm gonna..."

"Yes, you are."

"But the mess!"

"Do it in the blanket, then toss it aside."

"Oh god, here it comes..." Samantha took her hand away as Paul spurted into the rough cloth. They sat, both sated, content in each other's company, catching their breath.

"I'm going to have to go back to my seat now, before they notice I've gone." She reached between her legs, snapping her bodysuit back together. "Can we keep this as our secret, just for now? Until I can explain to them?"

Paul nodded. Of course, she didn't want to be seen with him. But he didn't care.

She looked down at him, looking sad. Maybe she'd just given him the wrong idea. This wasn't a brush-off. "My folks are away next weekend. Do you want to come around maybe, spend some time?"

"You want some help revising for the exams?"

Yes Paul, she thought, of course that was what I meant, you idiot. No, I'm going to ride your cock and your face until we're both raw. "Something like that."

"It's a date. I mean, not a date, no, I mean yes, I'd love to."

She leant over, pressed her lips against his. "See you later." And she was gone.

Paul hoped she was serious about the study date at the weekend. But even if she wasn't, he'd always have the memory of the trip. Of the incredible places he'd visited, sure; but particularly of Sophie, Annabelle, and Zee; and of course this last half-hour or so with Samantha. Even if it never happened again, he'd always look back with fondness on this trip, and its happy ending.

THE END

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With thanks to @PTWinters - my "sexy consultant" - for filling in the gaps in my knowledge of 90's Toronto. All the mistakes are mine, not his.

Although this chapter has concluded, the story continues in "Weekend at Samantha's"