First Time For Everything

"Then what was it? Something happened, and if you and I are going to be doing this dating thing, we're not going to be like my parents who just ignore shit or avoid touchy subjects because they'll fight over it. We have to be upfront with one another."

"I want that, too."

"Then, what the fuck?"

Brandon didn't want to be doing this at all, let alone before the sun was up, but the way Trixe's glare burrowed into him, it didn't seem possible to push the issue aside until another time. If he wanted her, this, then he'd have to be open, honest... But why did the right thing feel so wrong?

"I got embarrassed." He sighed, looking at the floor. "I... ah... It's stupid, really, but during skating... It's just that..." Again, tears tempted to spill, but she said no secrets, right? "I didn't want to cry in front of you."

Her glare laxed, brow unfurrowed. She uncrossed her arms. "Why would you cry?"

He wiped his eyes. "Dumb, I know, but I was embarrassed about you being my first to skate with." He put up his hands. "And, I know you were nice about it, and reassured me it didn't matter, and I know it really doesn't matter in the scheme of things, but... I don't know, it seemed important then. Stupid to be upset over, but here we are."

"I don't think that's all," she said, calmly. "I don't want to push you to tell me things you aren't comfortable with, but I really think there's more than just skating."

She was right. He didn't want her to be right. But it had to be said. It was now or never. If she wasn't going to leave him over his insecurities, might as well be now rather than later. He smiled, despite the situation, and sat on the edge of his bed. Unfolding his hands between his lap, he said: "It's this whole thing--you and me--but mainly me. You're my first real girlfriend, Trixie; first real everything. And I know it's only been like a week since we started talking, but I just... I just don't want to fuck it up, you know?" He put his face in his hands, tears sliding down his palms. "So much of me is not knowing what to say or do, and just hoping whatever I guess is the right choice. And, not only that--it's my skin condition and what people will think about you for being with someone like me. You're so damn beautiful, and just..."

He felt her weight next to him, her hand on his lap, her head against his shoulder. "Your skin doesn't bother me, and I could care less what people think of me or us. I chose you for you, Brandon; not because other people thought you weren't hot. You shouldn't care about what they think, either--"

"But--"

"--But nothing." She took his hand into hers, sliding it between her legs. "Every asshole in the world could think we're not meant to be together, and I could give a shit less. The only thing that matters is what you and I think. And don't stress about the little stuff with me. I'm very easy to handle, low maintenance as some would say... But I'll tell you one thing, Brandon."

Sitting up, he looked at her. She was crying, too. "You will fuck up," she simply said, staring at the wall across from them. "But that's okay, because I will fuck up, too. Everyone fucks up at some point, but what matters is what you do after fucking up. If you just fuck up and do nothing to fix your shit, then yeah, that's on you; but if you do and fix it or at least try to, then that just shows you're not a real fuck up."

"I've never heard someone say, 'fuck' that many times at once before," he said, laughing.

She laughed, too, wiping her eyes and sitting straight. "Well, you get my point, right?"

"Yeah... Doesn't help feeling like I do, but probably with time, that'll change."

They sat in silence, wiping their eyes and sniffling, as the sun rose and light basked the room. People walked up and down the hallway. Doors opened and closed. Chitter-chatter peppered the air. Either a lot of people signed up for extra classes or tutoring, or many were going to church, Brandon couldn't say.

"What do you want to do now?" Trixie said.

He yawned. "Go back to sleep."

"Sounds good to me."

PART III

Brandon had never spent so much time with a person as he did with Trixie the following week. Every night they either hung out at one of their dorms, or went out for coffee downtown, or just sat around campus, shooting the shit. It was like he was with his best friend, an ease to the relationship he didn't expect. After their conversation Sunday, everything felt simple.

He could be himself wholeheartedly without--too much--worry, and soon learned Trixie and him had a lot in common, but also not a lot in common. Which was fine, not everyone can like the same things. She loved sour foods while he loathed them; he wasn't a big fan of concerts or places with loud noises while she loved going to concerts and shows; he rathered staying at home on the weekends, but she enjoyed being out and about whenever she could.

Little by little, his reluctance to speak about his condition wavered. Bits and pieces were given when asked, but Trixie never pushed for anything more than what Brandon was willing to provide. He trusted her. Knew she wouldn't use it to harm him in any way. Yet the deep-seated fear was seemingly rooted into the foundation of who he was, but she was slowly digging it out.

Before they realized, it was Saturday again, and they were in her dorm. Cold air blew through the open window as soft rock music drifted out into the night. An upturned stack of playing cards and a half-eaten bag of salt-and-vinegar chips were on the floor at their feet hanging over the bed. She was on top of him, his hands underneath the back of her unzipped jeans, cupping her ass. Tongues pressed against one another. Bottom lips were bitten. Trixie sat up, breath heavy.

"You okay?"

She nodded, pulling off her shirt and tossing it aside. Her pale breasts held by a plain black bra. "Just fucking hot in here."

"That's probably because you're here."

She laughed. "Wanna make it hotter, then?"

Immediately blood rushed into his cock, pressing against his pants. Trixie glanced down, then back to him. "Guess so."

She undid her bra, throwing it in the direction of her shirt. Small, pink nipples from supple breasts. Not huge like some women he'd seen in porn, but not small, either. Brandon didn't know cup sizes, but he'd guess a C cup. It didn't matter to him either way, because they fit perfectly in his hands. Trixie rolled off of him, pulling down her jeans and underwear, and he frantically did the same. It was happening. His heart hammered against his chest, and he felt a little queasy from the adrenaline and excitement, but he told himself to calm down, to relax. He didn't want to finish before it even started.

She grabbed his hard cock while he wrapped his arm around her, grabbing her doughy backside. They made out as she stroked him. He already wanted to come--Brandon broke off. "I don't have a condom."

"It's fine, I'm on the pill."

Then they were back at it. She bent her leg to the side, and he slid his hand between her thighs. Her shaved pussy was already wet, and he rubbed her clit. Trixie shuttered, letting out a deep sigh. Her unmoving grip held his dick while he kissed her cheek, her neck, and sucked on her nipple while sliding two fingers into her. It was warm and open, and he bent his fingers upwards, pressing against the cavity just above her lips. She leaned in and bit his shoulder, dragging her fingernails down his back. "I want you," she said.

He slid out from her, hooked his arm under her thigh, and rolled on top of her. He lifted her other leg up onto his shoulders, and spit in his hand. He stopped. Trixie lay naked before him, far more beautiful than ever before. Her hands gently playing with her breasts, her pale pouch flatter on her back. Their eyes met. It felt surreal. It felt like a dream. He couldn't believe this was happening, but to question it may ruin it. He reapplied the spit and coated himself before pushing into her.

"Fuck," he moaned. Brandon was immediately at the brink of bursting. Her enveloping his throbbing dick was probably the best thing he ever felt in his life. He wanted it to last forever, but he could barely last five minutes. But, slowly, he thrusted his hips, watching her breasts bounce.

"Faster," she said, and he listened. His hands grasped her rear while picking up momentum. Her skin clapped against his, and he pushed deeper, pressing into her as though he could go any further than his dick allowed. Sweat coated their bodies. The night air did nothing to abate the heat. Her breath heavy on his face. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her fingers digging into his back.

"I'm gonna--" He couldn't hold it any longer.Cum spurted from his cock, filling her. His heart was in his throat, thrumming in his temples. It was like every ounce of energy he had drained from him. Suddenly he was cool. Sperm trickled out from the tiny spaces between them. "I'm sorry," he said.

"You're fine, no need to apologize," she said, "but I still need to get off."

He nodded, slipping out from her, and kneeling onto the floor, he pulled her to the edge of the bed by her thighs. "Are you sure?" Trixie looked down at him between her breasts. "You finished inside me."

In answer, he licked her clit, causing her to shutter. "Oh, shit..." His tongue made circles around her clit, broken only by him nibbling on it as gently. Her legs shivered, and she clenched onto the comforter. Brandon started fingering her while he increased his speed, lapping at her pussy. "Can you..." she breathed.

"What?" he said quickly, mouth and chin glazed. "Can I what?"

"Can you put a finger in..."

She didn't need to finish the sentence. He lathered his pointer on his other hand and carefully pressed into her asshole. "Fuck." Returning to her clit, he fingered her in both holes while she moaned and writhed, bucking her hips against his mouth, then suddenly her body went rigid, as though she clenched every muscle, and abruptly relaxed. Her legs draped over the edge of the bed, and he pulled his fingers out from her.

Lying next to her, they basked in the sex afterglow. Her hand found his, still wet with her juices. "You did amazing," she said.

"Even for my first time?"

"I've been with men who've whored around that hardly knew what to do with pussy."

He laughed. "You were amazing, too."

Trixie rolled over, cuddling against him. He wrapped his arm around her. "I'm tired."

Although, surprisingly, he was prepared to go again with her still naked, he didn't bother to push it any further. There were more chances to come, he knew. "Go to sleep," he said. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

The previous week was the same as the following week, except for spending time outside or hanging out in their dorms, they were having sex. His dorm. Her dorm. In the park at night behind the bushes leading to the riverbank. A quickie before class and after. A blowjob before he had to study, and eating her out before she had to study. It was amazing, hot, unbelievable. Brandon figured he was having so much sex now it made up for the years of not having it. And, even with it, their feelings for one another grew stronger, as if exchanging bodily fluids increased their fondness for each other.

She sat on his blanket on the floor of his dorm, wiping his cum from her face and breasts with an old t-shirt, and he sat on the edge of the bed. His cock wilted, lying limp against the mattress. Perspiration coated both of them, a subtle sheen under the fluorescent light.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, tossing the shirt onto his dirty laundry, and crawled over to him. She placed her arms on his lap, and rested her face on her arms.

"Yeah," he said, still out of breath. "Anything."

"When will you trust me enough to talk about your skin condition?"

A bolt of lightning shot through him. Trixie surely felt his muscles clench. "Ah... I trust you, a lot, but..."

She sat up, gaze meeting his. "But what? I understand it's a touchy subject, but you've came on almost every part of me, and you're still scared to open up to me about it?"

Well, if she put it that way, Brandon saw it as silly to withhold the information any longer. She had opened up to him in every way possible, and he did, too, except for this one thing. For God's sake, they were sitting together naked. Not having sex. Not trying to have sex. Just having a conversation, like normal, and he was perfectly okay with it. He never imagined that'd ever happen.

"Fine." He sighed. "It's called cystpermia--"

"You've told me that already."

"Shush." He put his hand on her head. "It's rare, like super rare, maybe every one person out of a million gets it. It's, ah..." He inhaled deeply into his chest. "I don't remember exactly how the doctors explained it, but basically the sperm tubes are malformed during pregnancy, and somehow travels throughout the body, but stops at the face, causing the acne..." Heat swelled in his face. He couldn't believe he was admitting this to her. Brandon looked at the open window, to the outside, to anywhere than where he was.

"So... Basically, they're filled with sperm?"

He nodded.

"And when you pop them, do they..."

"Feel like an orgasm?"

"Yeah."

"...Yeah." And, this would be the moment that lies down the roots of their relationship. If she rejected him, he would be embarrassed, shell-shocked, would get dressed and get on the next bus back to home; never trust anyone again, would hardly see or speak to anyone again, either. He was more open before her than anyone before. He waited for a response, for anything, in the palpable silence. She made no noise, no indication he even said anything...

"Can we try it?" she said, and he snapped towards her. She was staring up at him, his hand still on her head. "Like does it still work, even if you've finished normally?"

"I..." Was she actually serious? "I.. don't know. I never tried."

"Well can we?"

"You're not freaked out?" He had to ask, had to know she wasn't screwing with him. "Like at all?"

"No!" She sat on her heels, breasts displayed. "Not at all. I mean, yeah, it's weird for a disease, but you're not weird for having it. It's not like you wanted it, right?"

He shook his head.

"Then, let's make the best of it, if you're okay with that."

And, he was. What burden he had carried with the secret had been lifted. Trixie accepted him wholly for who he was and what he had. There was nothing left to hide or avoid speaking about. He loved her, Brandon realized. Honestly, loved her. Tears welled up, but he didn't push them down. He let them come as he smiled.

She put her hand on his leg. "Is everything okay? Did I say something?"

"No," he said, wiping his eyes. "Nothing at all." He turned the attention back to what she asked. "How do you want to do this? Should I get on top, or...?"

"Good question..." Trixie lay back onto the sheet on the floor. "You can kneel around my belly, and do it on my tits?"

He followed instructions, because she could've suggested almost anything and he'd been fine with it. Hovering his face above her breasts, he reached for his cheek to only be stopped by her hands. "Wait, I wanna do it."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "Seems more fitting."

Brandon didn't argue, holding himself up by his hands now. Gently she caressed his face, and stopped at his left cheek. He closed his eyes as she started putting pressure, the skin beginning to sting between her thumbs, then inside his head he heard skin splitting. His eyes opened and he let out a gasp when electricity ran from his face to his dick, causing it to twitch, seeing cum squirt from the pimple burst across her tits.

"Do it again," he quickly said.

She moved onto another nearby. It popped with more than the last, and Brandon became hard. He wet his dick with saliva and slid into her once more.

"Again." He started thrusting deep inside her, pressing his groin against her pelvis. Another was ruptured, and cum ran down her cleavage and her sides. She moaned, her thighs wrapped around his legs. One gave way to one more to another, and so on and the sensation coursing through his body made him go faster, harder, until he was hammering her pussy like never before. Cum ran down his face, trickling onto her belly.

One of her hands gripped his shoulder while the other gripped the dampening sheet beneath her. Her face was beat red, and sweat stood out on both of them. Heat swelled in the room and she dug her fingernails into his skin as her body froze for a prolonged moment, then relaxed as her thighs convulsed until she released a long-held sigh of pleasure. She closed her eyes, letting him finish. He sat up, still pumping, and popped the remaining acne himself. Short spurts of cum shot over her, onto her, on the floor and in her hair. He couldn't stop himself. He couldn't resist the rush flooding him with every pop. Each felt like it inflated his dick, expanding inside her somehow. It probably was his mind, but it didn't matter, because it was happening and as he pressed the last one on his forehead, he finally came. Not as much as the first time, but enough to where he felt beyond drained, beyond exhausted. His face throbbed as much as his cock did. Trixie was covered from her trimmed pubes to her forehead. It made him want to try to get hard again, but there wasn't anything left.

But, Brandon knew he couldn't leave her like this, as much as a turn on it was. He snatched a towel from by his bed and wiped her down the best he could with what he had, ensuring she got it from under her chin, beneath her breasts, in-between her belly folds. Once done, he lay next to her on the floor, the cold concrete welcome against his sweaty back. She nuzzled against him, leg thrown over his, arm over his chest.

The silence was blissful, yet wanting. It felt like something needed to be said after everything--not just the sex, but before that, ever since she showed up at his room randomly weeks ago. Their friendship-to-relationship blossomed into something real, concrete; a thing he wanted to remain for as long as possible. The future was unknown but together, he honestly didn't care what it would bring. She accepted him and he accepted her, so the only three words that could come close to how he felt left his lips.

And, smiling, she said them back.