Letters

David's first kiss had felt more like a question than a kiss, and my answer had been to kiss him back, but it wasn't meant to be a yes. I was in a state of confusion and arousal, and I felt like the proverbial dear caught in the headlights of an on-coming train. David kissed me again but this time his tongue challenged mine to a wrestling match— and his was winning. A hand had worked its way under my shirt and was massaging my breast. I reached for David's arm to protest his forward advances, but realized it wasn't his hand that was rubbing and tweaking my nipple.

My first thought was to stand up. To put an end to this before it all went too far, but my legs wouldn't move, and my arms didn't push David away, and the most surprising thing of all, I hadn't removed Vicky's hand from my breast. Those inner voices that seemingly come from nowhere, ghosts of parental warnings and indoctrination perhaps, were shouting hysterically now. "Get up—stop this now!" I wondered how many self-imposed rules I could break in one day: exhibitionism, voyeurism, infidelity, and the night was still in its infancy. That dark room in the back of my mind, the one with all the cobwebs and un-oiled hinges, was now open for business and revealing the desires that I had secreted away over the years."

13.

Amy set the magazine down on the floor and thought about Twobi's dilemma. How many times had she herself been tempted to open that door; to go inside and rummage through the stacked boxes filled with real and imagined sins. For most of Amy's life that door had been locked, but today she planed to open it up, air it out, and do some dusting.

At this point in the letter, Amy new where it was heading and which dusty old box in Twobi's hidden room she would be opening next. Amy had a box just like it in hers, and its contents created the night that Amy and her friend, Ronda, had spent experimenting with sex. It had been so long ago that she wondered how much of her memory was real and how mush was pure fiction.

They had both just turned eighteen, their birthdays were only a week apart, and they were celebrating by having a sleepover at Ronda's house. It was always best to stay at Ronda's because her mother was divorced and worked nights so they pretty much had the run of the house—and the beer. Ronda's mother was of the mind-set that it was okay for them to drink as long as they stayed in and didn't have any other kids over. Amy cringed at the thought now, but in Ronda's mother's defense, times were different then and she was a recovering hippie.

Amy's recall of that night was rather vague as to how the topic started or even who had started it, but somehow they wound up talking about sex. But after admitting, along with some alcohol induced laughter, that two eighteen year-old virgins new nothing about sex, they moved on to something that they did know about and had even coined the name for—digging.

14.

Ronda had a secret:

"What is it, come on—give?" Amy said as the two of them sat Indian-style, and facing one another on the floor.

"I want to, but I'm scared of what you'll think of me if I do."

"I wouldn't think bad of you, we've been best friends for most of our lives."

"But this is—different," Ronda said. The word "different" came out in a long drawn out whine; she bent her head down and ground her thumb into the carpet as if she were squishing a bug.

"Okay, if you don't want to tell me," Amy said as she got up off the floor and started for the couch. She pulled at the hem of her t- shirt and tried to cover her ass but the shirt was too short. They had changed into their sleeping attire not long after Amy arrived at Ronda's apartment; this consisted of nothing more than a t-shirt and panties.

Ronda got up off the floor and ran up the stairs. For a moment, Amy thought she had pissed-off her friend and she was going to pout up in her bedroom for the rest of the night. Then a pair of pink- toenailed feet appeared at the head of the stairs just below where the ceiling met the banister. She had paused there for a moment, and then continued down the stairs.

She had a large brown paper bag in her hand, and it was swinging back and forth—as if it had something heavy inside. She walked around the coffee table, and then over to where Amy was sitting. She stood there for a moment clutching the bag with booth hands.

"You have to swear—on your life—that you will never tell anyone about this," Ronda said. She had a look on her face that told Amy that this was serious.

"Shit, Ronda, your scaring me. What's in there—a severed body part or what?"

"No, but your close," she said. The "o" in no was drawn out four times longer than needed.

A tingle shot down Amy's spine all the way down to her feet as she pondered the meaning of "close."

"RONDA! WHAT'S IN THE BAG?"

"You don't have to..."

"Your creeping me out damn it. Just show me—no—scratch that. Tell me first."

"Okay—okay. It's a dildo," she said. The crotch on one side of her mouth slid up into a roguish looking smile.

"Dildo?"

"Yeah, you know—a rubber penis."

"A rubber penis? You mean like a model of one—human?"

"I mean like a 'digging' kind, and yes—human, male, a man's thingy," she said as she handed the bag to Amy. "Wanna see?"

Amy took the bag and set in her lap, and she could feel the weight of the thing as it lay across both her thighs. The only penises she had ever seen were on babies, like when she had to change her cousin's diaper, and that had been a little bit of a thing. She carefully unrolled the top of the bag and moved her face to one side as if something might jump out at her. Something like a snake-in-a-box; it wouldn't be the first time Ronda had set her up for a good scare. Amy made a small peephole at the top and peeked in.

There was a loud shriek, and then a thud as the bag flew off Amy's lap and sailed over the coffee table. A small glass vase stood in its path but was no match for the heavy bag. They both bounced on the carpet; the vase shattered into a thousand little shards of glass when it smashed into the baseboard of the far wall. The thing that had been in the bag flew from its prison and flopped on the carpet like a one-eyed fish that had just been landed.

15.

Amy pulled up her panties; the toilet seat was starting to bite into her ass and John would eventually get concerned about her lengthy stay in the bathroom. She took the magazine and headed for the sofa in the living room. John would be watching some old movie on television in the bedroom and would probably not budge until it was over. She looked in on him as she passed the door and noticed that he had fallen asleep. She could hear a light snore and he was on his side facing away from the TV. "Good," she thought. She shut off the light and quietly closed the door.

She sat on the couch for a moment, and then removed her panties and shoved them under one of the cushions. Amy took the blanket that was neatly folded across the top of the couch and covered herself from the waist down. "This is much better," she though as she reclined and propped a pillow under her head. She brought her feet up sole to sole letting her knees fall apart and then rested her hand on her wet crotch.

Opening the magazine to page one hundred and thirty-two, she quickly scanned the page for the paragraph where she had left off. She started to read but found her mind drifting back to the night when she and Ronda had—dug a hole together. There was a muffled sound of a laugh from Amy as she tried to hold back a loud burst at her own pun.

She slipped the magazine under the couch as she wondered what Ronda was doing right now. The last time she had heard from her she was pregnant with her third child. Her husband had been transferred to Ohio and they were on the move again. They had called each other for a while, but with the cost of long-distance phone calls and such...

That's just bullshit, she thought. The truth of the matter was, they had nothing in common anymore and Amy hated Ronda's husband. He was a little fucking computer geek that knocked up her friend and took her a thousand miles away—and she missed her. She missed the old Ronda; the one that she could share all her secrets with, and be there when she needed her to be there. What she would give to go back to that night when they shared one of Amy's most intimate experiences.

16.

The thing in the bag that had frightened Amy was now resting quietly on the floor in the middle of the room. When she looked in the bag and saw the veins, it had startled her. She wasn't sure what she thought it was, maybe an arm or some other homeless body part, but she did think it was real. Amy had shoved it away in a moment of panic.

"What the hell is that Ronda," Amy blurted out. Her heart was still pounding in her chest and it felt like it would jump out of her throat at any minute.

"I told you—it's a dildo. Women use them to dig."

"Dig?" Amy tried to understand but her brain was still in a frightened fog.

"You know, they put it in their hole."

An expression of enlightenment came over Amy's face as she finally got it, and then turned quickly to one of disbelief.

"No—I don't believe it. That thing is way too big to fit in there."

"No it isn't," Ronda said. There was a big smile on her face and for a moment there eyes remained fixed on each other in silence.

Amy was the first to speak.

"You mean..."

"Yes I have," Ronda said before Amy could finish her question.

"But...that means..."

"Well...yes, physically I'm not a 'virgin' anymore."

"Wow," Amy said, but it sounded more like she was whispering to herself than talking to Ronda. She looked at the thing on the floor and tried to imagine Ronda putting it inside her vagina.

Ronda walked over to the dildo and picked it up off the floor, and then went over to where Amy was sitting. Amy was still spooked; it was like being in first or second grade again, when the boys would hand you a rubber spider or fake puke. You knew it wasn't real, but it was still gross.

"Here, take it," Ronda said as she handed it to Amy. "It feels so real."

"How would you know, I mean, if it feels real or not? Is there something else you haven't told me?"

"No, but it does feel real—don't you think?"

Reluctantly, Amy took the rubber phallus in her hand and examined it like a first year medical student that was about to dissect her first foot or hand. She knew the basics of the male sex organ and how it all worked, and she could even name the parts. Between her mother's embarrassing sex-talks, sex-ed at school and what her friends had told her, she understood all the details—except one."

"Is this what they look like when their 'hard?'" Amy asked. It was a subject she had always wanted to clear up, but she was too embarrassed to admit she didn't know.

"Yes," Ronda said with a puzzled look on her face. "You didn't know?"

"Well I know the word, but I wasn't sure what it would look like. Where did you get this thing?" She asked, quickly changing the subject.

"I found it in a box in the basement. When my father left, mom packed away all his stuff and I found 'it' with some dirty magazines under some clothes. I guess she forgot it was there."

"Dirty magazines? You mean like playboy?"

The lascivious grin returned to Ronda's face. "No—it's pictures of people having sex for real—and before you ask, I found them with the dildo. I think mom has forgotten that this stuff is down there. You know—she won't even go in the basement anymore, and if she wants something or needs something done, she just sends me to do it—you wanna see the pictures?"

Amy nearly laughed out loud at the way Ronda worked in the question, "—you wanna see the pictures?" It reminded her of when they were in second, or maybe third grade and Ronda had learned how to spell the word "shit." She had that same look in her eyes, and couldn't wait to tell her. "S-h-i-t," she said displaying all her bright teeth in a grandiose smile. Something Amy's father might call a, "s-h- i-t eating grin."

"Yes, go get them."

This time Ronda ran to the kitchen; she heard the caterwaul from the door that leads down to the basement, and then the thump of Ronda's feet as they hit each step of the stairs. Amy's attention turned to the disembodied penis that lay on her lap. It just didn't seem possible that it would fit inside her vagina without causing serious damage. One night, out of curiosity, she put her finger at the entrance of her hole and pushed it in about an inch, and even that was a tight fit.

Amy heard Ronda running up the stairs of the basement and then the sound of the door slamming shut. She quickly tossed the dildo over to the other side of the couch as if her mother was about to catch her with the evidence of a cookie jar raid. Ronda hurried into the room and set the magazines on the coffee table.

"I'm going to clean up the broken glass and them I'm going to have a beer, you want one?" Ronda said. She was breathing hard from her run down and then up the stairs.

"Yeah, I think I need one," she said as her eye's purposely avoided the pornography before her.

In between Ronda's trips to the kitchen, the first trip with a dustpan in her left hand and dragging the broom on the carpet behind her in the other, Amy let her gaze fall to the collection of four or five magazines neatly stacked on top of one another. In bold yellow lettering, printed on the front cover of the first magazine in a half circle, were words of a language Amy didn't recognize, German maybe, or it could have been Pluto-nese for all she knew. Just under that were two naked people. A woman on her hands and knees, and just behind her on his knees with his hands on her ass, was a man fucking her. Although the lower cheek of her ass obscured the view of actual penetration, his penis was definitely inside her.

"What do you think of that?"

Amy jumped at the sound of her friend's voice, and felt as if she had been caught scratching her ass or checking her armpits for a foul odor.

"Uh, I haven't given it much thought yet. Do you need some help over there?"

"Nope. Go on, Amy, look through them and let me know what you think," Ronda said as she went about her chore.

After Ronda plugged in the vacuum cleaner and Amy was sure she wasn't being watched, she picked up the first magazine and opened it to page one.

17.

Amy remembered those first pictures as thought it was yesterday as she rubbed her pussy. Long sweeping movements that started at the very bottom of her hole and went well over her clit. Her hand was making the blanket move in a way that would leave no doubt as to what she was doing.

She reached under the sofa and retrieved the magazine from where she had hidden it. It was already on page one hundred and thirty-two and she was able to find her spot more quickly this time.

18.

Twobivirgin continues in her letter: "David's kiss was breaking all the rules, but my will was diminishing and the internal voices grew lower in volume and intensity. I felt Vicky's hand move to the bottom of my bra and push the cup up over my breast. She then squeezed the entire breast gently. David released my lips and kissed his way down momentarily stopping on my neck—and then in what seemed like a perfectly choreographed movement, Vicky lifted my shirt and David sucked a nipple in his mouth.

Once again my conscience raised its cogent voice in protest. "You've already stooped low into the bowels of decency, stop now before it's too late—too late—too late," said my inner voice now sounding more like my mother than me, but it was already too late. My juices were flowing and my groin felt heavy and excited; I wanted David, and if Vicky was part of the package—so be it.

My eyes were closed and the back of my head rested on Vicky's shoulder as David sucked on my breast. Someone's hand wedged its way between my thighs and I let my legs fall open to its advances. There was a sucking sound as David released my nipple from his mouth and then kissed his way to the other. I felt my bra loosen as half of the two pairs of hands unfastened it, and then pulled both bra and shirt over my head leaving me naked from the waist up.

I took David's face into my hands and gently pulled him up, and then pressed my lips to his. I invaded his mouth with my tongue in a long and passion driven kiss. The hand had arrived at its intended target and I moaned into David's mouth. My body bent at the hips as I ground my vulva against the fingers that rubbed my crotch. Vicky, unknown to me, had removed her blouse and bra and was now reaching to undo my pants.

No words were spoken—and none were needed as I felt Vicky at my pants. Almost as a reflex action, I kicked off my shoes. For the first time since David's first kiss, I looked over at Vicky when I felt a tug at my pant legs. She was standing and bent over my feet, her heavy breast swinging as she moved.

David gave me a gentle push and I fell against the back of the sofa. He started sucking on my breast and put his hand between my thighs. A song on the sound system filled the room with its raunchy blues-driven sound and a sax blew out a solo that sounded like sex incarnate. Vicky began to sway her hips; her eyes fixed on mine as she unzipped and then unbuttoned her pants. She slid them, and her panties down in one quick movement stepping out of them without missing a beat. My eyes went straight to Vicky's naked sex; the V of her groin was completely void of hair. The small labia reminded me of a tongue stuck out from between two large pouting lips. I wondered if it itched much.

I let out another moan, louder this time, as I felt a finger penetrate my vagina. His thumb had found my clit and was rubbing it as he finger-fucked my pussy. I closed my eyes and moved my pelvis to the rhythm of his touch—which also seemed matched the beat of the music. David moved my hand to his crotch, he was the only one dressed now, and I felt around for his penis; I found it and gave it a squeeze.

Now that Vicky had lost her audience, she came over to help David undress. I felt a light, almost nonexistent, kiss on my hand and it caused me to open my eyes. Vicky was kissing my hand along with parts of David's crotch. She pulled his zipper down and then with both of her hands, unfastened his pants and then pulled both his underwear and pants down to his ankles. His cock, all five inches of it, sprang up as his pants and boxers slid past it. I marveled at its beauty; it was as straight as a Popsicle, just as yummy looking too, and the skin was smooth with no scary veins bulging out that looked like they were about to explode.

I suddenly felt an urge that I had never experienced with my husband; I actually wanted it in my mouth. Leaning over him, I took his cock in my hand, and then pulled his foreskin down away from the head. It wasn't round and fat like my husband's; it was more like an arrowhead with its pee hole set perfectly at the tip. I squeezed the base, and in a milking-like move, pulled the foreskin back up. A small bead of pre-cum oozed from the little hole and began to run down the glands: I quickly licked it up.

Vicky kneeled in front of me and rested her arms on my thighs. I turned my head and looked at Vicky, who was now smiling at me and gently pulling at my thighs. The look on her face with her cute dimples, caused by her upturned mouth, made it impossible for me to say no. I let my legs fall open and scooted my butt to the edge of the sofa. I turned my face back to David's penis.

I slowly masturbated David and more clear fluid formed at the tip, and then spread over the entire head as his foreskin moved up and down. Vicky's first kiss on my inner thigh caused me to jump. 'It's the moment of truth,' I thought, and then wrapped my lips around the head of the second penis of my life to be between them."