Eighteen

He was eighteen years old and already more man than a lot of men

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Note: All characters are 18+ years old

I glanced up and caught my reflection in the large window as I entered my apartment building; the image reflected was of a young, attractive, sexually inquisitive twenty-five years old woman. Physically I have a warm, olive completion, long brownish-red wavy hair, full luscious lips, wide set brown eyes, long, thick eyelashes. At 5' 4", 115 lbs., 36B breasts with large, sensitive dark nipples, small waist, womanly hips, firm ass, and a soft hairless pubic mound, accentuated by a small delicate gold labia piercing.

My name is Zoe. I'm what people think of as the girl next door type; blessed with great parents, a thoughtful and slightly overprotective big brother, good friends, a lovely apartment, and a fantastic job as a kindergarten teacher.

Though I wouldn't call myself overly extroverted, I do enjoy being with people, and it makes me happy to know that people enjoy being with me and especially that men find me attractive and desirable. Maybe it's that safe, vulnerable "girl next door thing" that attracts them sexually. For example, Mr. Masterson, the middle-aged security person at the front door, who always gives me a fatherly smile and says, "Hello, Miss Zoe," probably doesn't realize that I see the way he stares at my nipples when I walk past him and that I'm quite flattered by the rather large erection that he always seems to have when we speak each evening.

*****

Well, I guess it's that enjoyment of people and friendliness that led to my involvement with Frank Kendricks.

I had just turned twenty-five a week earlier, and a few friends threw a belated birthday gathering at Mikey's Bar and Grill, where I met Frank Kendricks, a friend of my brother Paul. Paul was twenty, and his friend Frank was eighteen. I had never met Frank; he and Paul had become friends while I was away at college. Frank seemed like a nice guy, after all, he was Paul's friend, and that was an important endorsement right there.

Because they were under twenty-one, of course, they couldn't drink legally, but as things would have it, both of them had fake ids that had gotten them into the bar, and by 11p, they were both a little toasty. Frank had been checking me out since I had gotten there, and leaving Paul at a table on the other side of the bar, Frank came over, introduced himself again and asked me to dance. It was a slow song, one of my favorites and as we danced, I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my head on his shoulder, our bodies pressed together. When the dance ended, we separated and I went back to my table to join my friends. Within a few minutes, there was a shot placed in front of me from "the guy at the bar." A half an hour later, there was another birthday shot that I managed to down even though I was already on my way to being clearly under the influence.

As I sat there, nodding and talking with my friends, I saw Frank a few tables away and smiled. Frank was a very nice looking boy. Tall, athletic, broad-shouldered, hard bodied, maybe 165 lbs., dark brown curly hair that he wore cut just above his collar. Hazel eyes, wide toothy smile, with full, sensual lips (maybe a touch of African-American in his DNA?), and a deep masculine cleft in his chin.

Another slow song began to play, and almost immediately, Frank was there, "would you like to dance, Zoe?" he asked, extending his hand.

"Oh, wow," I said, "I'm a little wobbly."

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall," he said with a broad grin.

With his hand on my waist, he guided me toward a dark corner of the dance floor. Holding me close, we began to dance, actually we began to grind against each other. As soon as he pulled me into his arms, I could tell that he had a growing erection in his pants, and as we danced, it grew longer and harder. I could feel his large, warm hand through the thin fabric of my skirt, slip down to my ass. He was pressing me closer to him, and I could feel myself becoming hotter and wetter. Lost in the music, I slipped my arms around his neck and leaned my head against his shoulder enjoying the feel of his body against mine. The alcohol, his nearness, before I realized what was happening, his hand had made its way under my skirt and inside the crotch of my panties where he was slowly rubbing my clit, almost in time with the music. I must have moaned and then gasped when he inserted his finger inside me.

I didn't pull away; instead I held him tighter.

"Oh, Frank . . . ummmmmm, you shouldn't do that . . . Frank." I mumbled against his ear.

I must have shivered a little when he pulled his finger out and then quickly pushed two inside me and began stroking them in and out while continuing to rub my clit with the heel of his hand. Just as the song ended, I remember clinging to him and whorishly cumming in his hand. A new song started, and we stood together with him, holding me around my waist supporting me. When I had pulled myself together, he kissed me hard on the mouth and said, "Happy Birthday" before he walked me back to my table.

*****

Because I had to get up and catch a flight early the next morning, I must have said my goodbyes and headed back to my parent's house around 12:30a. I didn't see Frank again, but now and then, when I would talk to my brother Paul, he would tell me that Frank had said to tell me Hello or that Frank had asked about me. Though I knew I had been a little intoxicated on my birthday and had perhaps acted a little slutty, I thought Frank was a nice guy, and I was flattered that I had aroused the interest of a "younger man" enough that he would ask about me.

As time went on, the memory of that birthday and meeting Frank faded until I returned home after graduating from University with a degree in early education almost six months later. After being at home for a few weeks, I found the perfect job as a kindergarten teacher at the elementary school in the neighborhood where I had been looking for an apartment. As luck would have it, I eventually found a lovely apartment within walking distance of the school.

Since returning home, I had spent most of my free time getting used to living alone for the first time, setting up my apartment, and re-establishing friendships. One afternoon my phone began to ring, and when I answered, I was surprised when the caller identified showed Frank Kendricks (Paul's Friend).

We went to dinner and afterward went back to my apartment for a drink. I hadn't talked and laughed with anyone so much in a very long time, and after a couple of drinks and a lot of flirting, Frank leaned over and kissed me. I looked up at him and thought how handsome he was and wondered what it would feel like to have sex with him. We kissed again and began exploring each other's bodies. I loved the way his hands felt on me, the way my clit would throb when he unbuttoned my blouse and covered the white mounds of my breast, sucked my nipples, and licking the darkened areolas sending waves of electric heat to my clit. I ran my fingers through his hair as he sucked and kissed my tits, my legs spreading wide apart as his hand went downward and played with my pussy.

I was sopping wet and had been sitting next to him on the sofa, rubbing my thigh against his engorged cock. I moaned and looked up at him with glassy, needy eyes. It had been a while since I had had sex, having broken up with my ex months earlier. God, I needed to feel a hard cock inside me and so when Frank whispered, "let's go to your bedroom," I nodded and taking his hand led him to my room. He made love to me that night.

I slept with Frank three or four times after that. All I can say is that even though I was five years his senior, in my limited experience, I had never been with a man who could fuck the way Frank could. After being with him, for days afterward, I'd think about him, daydream, and have wet dreams about him until the next time we were together.

I swear, unless you're a woman, you have no idea what it's like to wake in the morning, with an ultra-sensitive clit, swollen pussy lips and that tell-tell stickiness between your legs . . . feeling like you've had sex. But as you lie there, you realize that you've been dreaming and masturbating during the night. This is what I experienced several times after meeting and sleeping with Frank. This kid was that good and that memorable in bed.

*****

I quickly learned, however, that though he was an excellent lover, Frank could be jealousy and controlling. I saw what we had as a friendship, even a casual sexual relationship but not as a serious romantic one. Frank saw it entirely differently. His continually calling and texting, coming by the apartment unannounced, becoming upset and angry if he thought I had been out with someone, was a bit more than I wanted to deal with. In just the few weeks that we had seen each other, I had begun to feel as though Frank was suffocating me. I tried to explain how I felt and that I didn't think this was going to work before I finally stopped taking his calls and texts and asked my brother Paul to talk to him and tell him to leave me alone and to stay away from me. After that, the unwanted attention stopped and I foolishly assumed he had met some else and gone his separate way.

Time passed quickly, and before I realized it, it was time for school to let out for the summer. Toward the end of June, my friend Pammie invited me to come and stay with her at her parent's home for the 4th of July holiday weekend. Of course, I said yes, and I looked forward to a fun weekend of partying, sun and lounging by their pool. Pammie's folks had planned for an afternoon pool party with about fifty guests, and though I didn't know most of the people, there were a few people that both Pammie and I knew from college and growing up here in the area.

When the 4th rolled around, I was feeling lazy and contented, having been reading and working on my tan for most of the afternoon. It seemed to have gotten warmer, and so, setting my iced tea aside, I stood and walking over to the edge of the pool and dove into the cool water of the sparkling blue pool. After swimming a few laps, I stood up and walked to the pool stairs and sat down while I caught my breath. A couple of friends called to me, and I swam over to them and after talking for a few minutes, I went to the side of the pool and prepared to pull myself out.

I felt someone behind me and turned.

Towering over me was Frank.

"Frank? What are you doing here? Did you come with Paul?" I began as he gripped my arm and roughly pulled me to the far side of the pool where the view from the deck chairs would be obscured. I felt him behind me as he covered my mouth with his hand and pressing me up against the side of the pool, making me bend forward from the waist. In one smooth motion, Frank pulled the bikini bottom of my suit down, and despite my trying to pull away, he tightened his hold and began to inch his cock inside me until he had sunk his entire length into me up to his balls.

"No, no . . . help," I cried, but my call for help was just a garbled, unintelligible whimper as Frank pressed his hand over my mouth so tightly that I could taste blood when I accidentally bit my tongue. From where we stood, no one could hear or see what was happening, but even if anyone had seen us here in this secluded corner, Frank was confident they would figure we were just two lovers having quicky sex and wouldn't want to bother us.

"No one can hear you, Zoe. No one's going to come over here."

After a few more thrusts, he wanted better access to my pussy and slipped his arm under my left knee and lifted it so that I was standing on one leg. Then he began to pump his cock into me, slowly, slowly in and out, "Yes . . . yes, you want this, don't you Zoe?"

"I'm going to fuck you good and hard before I come inside you, bitch," he said with malice that was frightening and that I didn't understand.

I was crying softly; no one could hear anyway. Frank removed his hand, and I did nothing, too frightened to move. He released my leg and with his hands on my hips, pulled me closer to him and with one hand, massaged my clit until I started to moan and pressed my hips hard against him, grinding down on his cock. I could feel him getting bigger inside me. My body trembled and my eyes rolled upward with the intensity of my orgasm as his hands encircled my throat and he began to squeeze. His thrusting increased, and with a deep, guttural groan, he exploded sending spurt after spurt of cum high up inside me, drenching my pussy. I stood in front of him, trembling despite the warmth of the afternoon sun. When he finally pulled his dick out of me, his spent cum seeped out of my pussy and pooled in long white threads on the surface of the water.

"I'll call you," he glibly said as he got out of the pool, adjusted his still hard cock in his swim trunks and walked up the path towards the cabana.

I must have been in shock. I remember standing there crying as I pulled my bikini bottoms up and adjusted my top, making sure my breasts we covered.

*****

"Zoe? Are you okay? What's wrong? Was that your Frank?"

I looked up and saw it was my friend Pammie standing on the pool deck and looking at me with a concerned expression on her face.

"What's wrong?" She asked again.

"Nothing, nothing just got a strong cramp in my leg and I was trying to wait until it relaxed a little," I said.

"Well, the gangs going to get cleaned up and go somewhere of dinner . . . you interested?" she asked.

"No, you guys go ahead, I'm a little tired and think I'll just shower, watch a movie and go to bed."

"Alright, I'll probably see you in the morning at breakfast . . . Zoe? You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah, Pammie, I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow." Pammie waved and turning, walked over to the waiting group.

I remember thinking, "he raped me," and with that thought, I could feel my clit throb with the realization that I hadn't come that hard with anyone else, ever.

The next day after the incident at the pool, he started calling. The first time he called, I saw his name on the Caller Id and just let it ring. The fourth time he called, I answered. He told me he was sorry about the way things had gone down and wanted another chance. Would I meet him for dinner tonight?

"Are you crazy? After what you did to me, of course, I'm not going to meet you for dinner. Don't call me again Frank, ever!" and I disconnected the call.

*****

Maybe a week later, my friend Pam and I were at lunch, and of course, Frank was the topic of conversation.

"You know Zoe, of course, it doesn't explain his behavior, but its obvious the guy can't get enough of you. Whatever you did to him, you have him . . . what did they use to call it? 'Pussy whipped'? If I were you, I'd give him another chance, the sex sounds extraordinary, hell, I wouldn't mind some of that."

"Oh, Pam, stop joking, I'm trying to be serious. He's eighteen years old for god's sake."

"Well, he may be a kid age-wise, but from what you've told me, he's definitely a man, a very talented man in bed," she added her voice dripping with innuendo.

"How'd I get myself into this mess?" I lamented.

We sat sipping wine and nibbling on our salads, while people hurried up and down the street, and then I felt a vague sensation of unease. As Pammie and I sat and talked, I heard my name being called and turning toward the sound; I saw Frank walking towards us.

"Shit!" I said impulsively.

"What is it?" Pam asked.

"He's here. Frank's here, what is he doing here?"

Frank approached our table and stood next to me, just his nearness, the scent of his cologne, and I could feel my panties becoming wet.

"Hi, Pam said, you must be Frank, please sit, and join us."

I shot a look at Pammie and struggled to resist the urge to strangle her.

Frank pulled up a chair and sat down next to me; I don't know how to explain what I felt, anger, excitement, fear, humiliation, sexual arousal, all contradictory emotions.

"Zoe, what a surprise seeing you here, how have you been?" He asked in that charming way of his.

I didn't respond and sat as he and Pammie carried on a brief conversation. As they talked, I stiffened when I felt Frank's hand on my thigh and was aware when he began stroking my leg, his hand inching toward my panties. I pushed his hand away.

"Well, I'd better get going, I was on my way to an appointment when I saw you two in here," Frank said after about fifteen minutes. He stood and placed a peek on Pammie's cheek and bending toward me, kissed me on the mouth, and whispered, "I'll see you soon, Zoe."

I watched him as he left, and turning back to Pammie, it was clear from her smile and the expression on her face that she had been totally taken in by him, taken in by his good looks, his smile and his lies. Of course in the beginning, when I first told her about Frank, she hadn't thought much of the fact that he was several years younger than me, but strange how after talking and spending a little time with him, she now thought he was such a great guy and that I was crazy and being unfair to him for rejecting his attentions.

*****

I was getting dressed, getting ready for the first date with a guy named Marc, a friend of Pam's. As I stepped out of the shower, the doorbell began ringing, loud, and insistently. "Goodness, he's awfully early," I thought as I threw a bath towel around me and hurried to the door.

"Hold on, hold on I'm coming, Marc . . ." I shouted.

Assuming it was my date, I didn't check first, just opened the door, to find Frank standing there with a pissed-off expression on his face that quickly changed to suspicion when he saw me.

"Why are you answering the door half naked? Go put a robe or something on," he ordered.

I looked down, and it suddenly dawned on me that all I had on was a towel wrapped around me. As I turned and started for my bedroom, Frank pointedly asked, "And who the hell is Marc?"

"That's none of your business Frank," I replied indignantly.

When I came back to the front door, after putting on my bathrobe, Frank was gone.

I was shaken by that incident at the door, and the next day had the lock changed, as well as my phone and email numbers.

*****

I remember I had been so stressed that I had taken something to help me sleep. It was mid-August, and uncomfortably hot and muggy at night. I was lying on my back, with just a thin pair of panties on, the light bedsheet having been kicked off and was now heaped on the floor. My eyes had fluttered open when I felt the pressure on my chest, the warm breath on the side of my face, and the movement of the bed. Though groggy and disoriented, I knew someone was on top of me, covering me. He was between my spread legs grinding against me, trying to push his cock into me.

It was dark in my room, and I could barely make out anything. Terrified, I began to scream.

"Shhhh, shhhhh, stop screaming, it's me."

At the sound of his voice, I knew it was Frank.

"What are you doing here? How did you get in here?" I shouted.

Frank took hold of my hands, and pulling them over my head, tied them to the bed's headboard. He pulled my panties down and off of me and stuffed them into my mouth to muffle my screams.

He got off me, and I watched terrified as he walked through my bedroom to the front door and made sure it was locked, and then into the kitchen to pour himself a drink that he brought with him back into the bedroom. He stood next to the bed and began to jerk his cock slowly.

He grunted and closed his eyes as he came spewing cum on my breasts and stomach.

"Needed to release some of the pressure, he said, but don't worry, there's still enough for you," and then he started laughing.