Nikki

With those words, she spun herself around to straddle my head, and then sat up straight on her heels to press her dripping gash to my face. I had only one experience going down on a girl, and while I hadn’t received any complaints, I was fairly sure I hadn’t rocked her world. I was determined to do better with Nikki, whose experience and aggressiveness were unquestionably incendiary, but intimidating too. Her bare twat was slippery on my mouth, chin and cheeks. The taste of her was unexpectedly strong and tangy. I gamely tried to lick and suck at her bits, but after a minute or so, I sensed her impatience, and she ground her crotch down against my lips and chin. I struggled to breathe as she used me hard, her sex smothering my mouth, and my nose trapped in her clenching crack as she thrust at me. Faster and faster she writhed, until I heard her cry out and shudder above me. I reached up with both hands and palmed her butt cheeks, prying them apart and gasping a breath through my nose as she rode out the aftershocks of her climax.

Suddenly the pressure on my face lifted, as Nikki leaned forward to pay some attention to my junk. Her tits pressed into my midsection as she licked the length of my semi-hard shaft before taking it into her warm mouth once again. I realized that my focus on her had taken the edge off my arousal, which had likely been her intention when she mounted my face. But as the two of us worked at each other in a sixty-nine, I could feel our mutual passion building once again. Soon, she was humming her pleasure around a mouthful of my dick, and I was as rigid as steel and trying not to thrust my hips hard into her face.

Again I felt mildly cooling air on my wet rod, and Nikki rose from me without a word. She took a few steps to her bag, and after rummaging around in it for a few seconds, turned back to me with a smile of victory on her face and a square condom package held up in her hand. She looked so wild like that, hips cocked slightly to one side, breasts jutting out and nipples erect, wetness glistening high on her thighs, completely naked except for her flat sneakers. My cock twitched and bobbed with each throbbing heartbeat, engorged with desire for her. She ripped open the wrapper and dropped it on the ground, then crouched down to unroll it over my stiff dick. She spit in her hand and stroked me a few times quickly before positioning herself above me. With evident concentration, the girl then squatted down until the tip of my rod was nestled at the entrance to her bare twat.

I ached for more. I couldn’t move for fear of messing up her alignment, but I knew life would not be worth living a second longer if I couldn’t bury myself to the hilt in her steamy, tight snatch. Still in a crouch, Nikki placed the palms of her hands on my chest, and looked me directly in the eye. Then ever so slowly, never shifting her gaze from mine, she began to impale herself on my swollen shaft. I was beside myself, pinned beneath her. I never wanted the heaven of this slow penetration to end, and at the same time, I needed to be balls deep in her five minutes ago.

About halfway down, Nikki stopped, closed her eyes for a moment, and blew her breath out of puffed cheeks. I reveled in the tightness of her passage. It felt like her slot was gripping me, like I was splitting her. I realized she was trying to relax so she could fit me inside. Slowly, she began her descent once again, finally grunting through the last inch until she bottomed out with the root of my dick mashed into her clit. I could feel the spongy head of my cock bumping into something firm and unyielding deep in her belly, and she shifted so my shaft bent a bit to conform to her internal shape. At the very moment I knew I couldn’t be still a second more, she started to raise her hips again, and I felt the exquisite pull of her vaginal walls releasing me. At the top, she sat down more quickly, grunting with the effort of taking my dick again. Her pace built gradually until she was bouncing on me, tits moving in synchronized orbits with each pistoning drop. I couldn’t process the feeling. It was like every nerve ending in my groin was going off like fireworks, like her pussy was jacking me off.

Just as the head of my cock lit up with an overload of sensation, and my nuts tightened in warning of my impending orgasm, Nikki sat straight up, threw her head back, and ground her hips in deep circles into mine. I reached up and squeezed her breasts roughly as she came loud and hard, impaled on my shaft. Then my own climax crashed over me, the muscles below my sac clenching again and again as I filled her up.

As I gradually relaxed from my peak, I forced my hands to release their death-grip on Nikki’s tits. Even in the light of the moon, I could see I’d left streaks of red finger marks on her pale skin in my passion. My fingers caressed her hips lightly as she flinched through faint aftershocks from her orgasm, eyes still squeezed closed. When her eyelids finally opened, it took a moment for her to focus on my face below her. Much as I felt like the sexiest stud alive at that moment -- I just got laid, I am no longer a virgin, I AM THE GOD OF SEX -- I must not have looked quite that way to her. A small grin crossed her face, and she shook her head ever so slightly as she looked at me, deflating my ego a little.

I tried gamely to recover. “Pindick, huh?” I gave her what I thought was a worldly, cocky smirk.

That earned me a surprised laugh. “Nope. That scratched my itch just fine,” she conceded.

Nikki then shifted her position slightly, trying to gain leverage to rise up and remove my spent cock from the depths of her abdomen. I had a flash of near-panic at the idea of no longer being embedded in her tight, warm channel, and almost grabbed her hips to hold her in place forever. Resisting that impulse nearly burnt through any reserves of self-control I had, and I watched her rise slowly and gingerly until I felt myself slip helplessly free of her with an audible squlech. She stood over me and cupped her hand under her dripping mound, looking behind her for her discarded clothes. I climbed to my feet as she began to pull shorts and shirt back on, disappointed at her disappearing nudity.

A short moment later, she hoisted her backpack, finally looking at me in surprise. I realized with embarrassment that I was standing aimlessly naked in the middle of a golf fairway, a full condom clinging to my softening cock. Her expression was not one of affectionate patience. I awkwardly pulled the latex sheath off my prick and after trying vainly to figure out what to do with it, I dropped it self-consciously to the grass. In a handful of seconds, I managed to transition from the most exuberant moment of my life to the most insecure one as I scrambled to get dressed while Nikki waited with annoyance.

I struggled to process what I was feeling. It was a jumble of emotions, and I was confused by them. We walked in strained silence until we reached the road on the other side of the course. Then Nikki turned to me, pointed to her left and said shortly “I’m this way. See you at work.” I watched her as she turned and walked away. She never looked back.

As I walked home through the dark and quiet neighbourhood, my mind raced in circles. The exuberance of being with a wild thing like that in such an exciting situation had blown my mind, and the endorphins pumping through me like a drug meant I still wasn’t thinking straight. That had been absolutely nothing like my previous experiences with girls, fumbling at each other clumsily on a couch in my basement, listening with one ear for my mom’s footsteps on the stairs. The whole surreal experience played on an endless loop in my head until I was home in bed, and I’m sure when I finally drifted off to sleep, it was with a smile on my face.

I woke up mid-morning the next day, and bounced downstairs in the best mood of my life. As I poured myself a massive bowl of breakfast cereal, my mom asked what was prompting this unexpected energy. “Work was fun last night,” I offered around a spoonful of food. My mom raised one eyebrow and gave me a curious look before walking out of the kitchen.

My evening shift started at 3:30, and I seriously knocked around the idea of going in early before discarding it as stupid. I just couldn’t wait to see Nikki again, and work was where that was going to happen. I still arrived a half hour early and hung around the lunch room, nervously waiting for her to arrive. By the time she breezed in five minutes before her shift started -- as was her habit -- I was almost vibrating in anticipation. I watched her, waiting for her to glance my way so I could make eye contact. I’d rehearsed in front of my bedroom mirror the various ways I could say “hey” to her, until settling upon one that felt like it struck the best balance between cool and hot.

Nikki wrapped the strings of her waitressing apron around her waist, and finally looked up at me.

“Hey,” I said. I poured all the meaning I could into that single syllable.

She looked quickly away. “Hey,” she replied as she walked out the door. I was confused. That wasn’t how she had responded in any of the scenarios I’d played out in my head earlier today. I hadn’t gotten a wicked grin or even a lusty snarl, let alone a touch of her hand or a quick kiss. I rose from my chair and followed her out into the kitchen to start working.

The club wasn’t particularly busy that afternoon -- there had been a big tournament in the morning, and most of the members had chosen to stay away today. I tried to manoeuvre into a private moment with Nikki, but for some reason I wasn’t able to. By the time the last members had cleared out of the dining room after dinner, the staff were mostly engaged in prep work for the next morning’s breakfast crowd. Frankly, I was a bit ticked off that Nikki didn’t seem to be making nearly the effort I was to find some one-on-one time on a slow shift.

After running some garbage out to the dumpster, I returned to the kitchen through the side door, and spotted Nikki cleaning the soup station, her back to me. Her streaked ponytail barely reached the collar of her shirt, and I could imagine her slim shoulders and waist beneath the fabric. Below her apron-strings, slender hips were outlined by her tight-fitting black skirt, and my mind was suddenly awash in memories of those hips riding mine short hours ago.

I approached her quietly and put my hand on the small of her back as I leaned in close to her ear and said “Hey babe.”

Nikki was startled and jumped away from me, her forearm cracking into mine as she brought it down to knock away my outstretched hand. I had a brief opportunity to note with surprise the obvious anger on her face before she closed with me and shoved my chest hard with two hands. I stumbled backwards and fell over a mop and bucket on the floor. All activity in the kitchen stopped and I could sense everyone’s eyes on me as I sat on the tile floor. Nikki’s eyes flashed with fury, her fists balled at her sides as she took me to task.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

“I...I was trying to say hi,” I managed to say, thoroughly embarrassed. “After last night...” I trailed off self-consciously.

“After last night? Seriously?” Nikki retorted. Now there was venom in her expression. “We fool around once and you think you can put your hands on me any time you want? FUCK...YOU!” she spat deliberately. “I’m not your fucking girlfriend, and I’m not going to be. Stay the fuck away from me!” Nikki turned and stalked out of the room before I could even rise to my feet.

I could see all the faces turned my way. Some were aghast, some were scandalized, some were obviously excited by the drama. The one that bothered me most was Carl’s. He was leering at me, taking spiteful pleasure in my pain. He started to cackle maliciously, and then roared in laughter.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I jumped to my feet and tore out of the kitchen with a crash through the side door. I couldn’t run away fast enough. I don’t remember the rest of my sprint home, I was so shocked and embarrassed. I do recall lying in my bed hours later, tear tracks on my cheeks, and realizing I couldn’t face her again. My mom woke me up the next morning in time to get ready for my lunch shift, which mortified me. I faked a cough, and was terrified she knew I was faking it and would pull the whole story from me like only mothers can. But it worked and I was able to call in and fumble my way through a vague excuse about being sick. After two more days of ‘being sick’, one of my co-workers called the house to ask if I was all right. I couldn’t even bring myself to speak with her, I was so ashamed. That’s when I came to the conclusion I needed to quit. The next day, I dropped a resignation letter off at the pro-shop in a sealed envelope addressed to Ms. Sullivan, consciously avoiding even the most remote possibility I’d see anyone I knew from the food service department. I didn’t tell my parents I’d quit. How would I explain it to them?

It took me a week and a half to find another job, one that paid less than what I’d been making at the golf course. It was with a student painting company, and although it promised to be a shit job, I felt lucky to have it. One of the crew had quit abruptly, and even though I was the first person they interviewed, I looked fit and I was able to start that same day, so the job was mine.

Our crew leader introduced me to the other people I’d be working with, but I frankly didn’t remember any of their names. I don’t think I even made eye contact with any of them. Over the next weeks, I painted. I drank my water and ate my bag lunch, and then I painted more until quitting time. When I was home, I stayed mostly in my room, lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I replayed the scene of my emotional immolation over and over again on a memory loop, trying vainly to sort out what had happened, and what I could have done differently. That didn’t seem to help.

People say ‘time heals everything,’ but that wasn’t my experience. I just got numb, and then I plastered over the numbness. I could sense my parents were worried, but I couldn’t tell them anything, and thankfully they didn’t push. My new co-workers initially tried to pull me into conversations as we scraped, caulked, climbed ladders and painted in the sweltering heat. They quickly gave up. Oh, there were a few who seemed nice, but I just had no emotional energy to invest in friendship or even small talk. I finished the last month of summer, and my boss surprised me by adding a small bonus to my final paycheque, saying he’d noticed how I just put my head down and ground out the days.

School started again after Labour Day, and my mood lifted as the scenery changed. I reconnected with a few friends from first year who had spent the summer out of town. One day in mid-September, I was waiting for a buddy in the lobby of the library, when I saw a group of girls walk in, laughing together. One of them glanced over at me, leaning against the wall, and I felt a flash of déja vu. I knew I should recognize her, but I couldn’t place from where. She was a tall, slim, deeply tanned girl with long, light brown hair, and she wore an open-necked pale blue blouse rolled up at the sleeves, a pair of navy form-fitting jeans, and tall brown designer boots with a heel that accentuated her length. Big, silver hoop earrings set off the delicacy of her browned features, and their style matched the fine chain and pendant around her neck. She looked like a model -- a model with money. To my surprise, she excused herself from her friends and detoured to face me.

“Hey,” she smiled warmly and clutched a textbook and binder to her midsection as she greeted me.

“Hey,” I replied back hesitantly.

Her smile faltered a bit. “You don’t recognize me, do you?” she said, with a hint of resignation. I shook my head in mute reply. “I’m Rebecca. We painted together for a week this summer before I got moved to another crew?” she ventured hopefully.

In a flash, I was able to place her. Her hair and outfit had thrown me. I remembered a girl with a long French braid and a pink bandana, wearing a baggy and stained t-shirt and cargo pants. This girl had the same face, but presented a completely different persona: more polished, more put together, and more attractive.

“Oh, right!” I replied self-consciously. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you without the bandana,” I continued lamely.

Rebecca giggled. “Yeah, I get that.” Sensing I wasn’t going to carry the conversation, she continued. “You were really quiet, but you worked super hard. There were so many flakes on that job, and you just stuck out to me. It was good to work with someone else who carried their weight. So I remembered you,” she finished.

“Thanks,” I replied, unsure of what to say next.

She reached up and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, I should get back to my friends. Group project,” she offered in explanation.

As she turned away, something broke free inside me, and I reached for her arm. “Rebecca, I’m sorry. I’ve been...distracted. Would you...uh...like to grab a cup of coffee sometime?”

She smiled at me again, and I felt an unfamiliar warmth in my chest. “Yeah, that would be great,” she replied. We traded contact info on our cell phones, and then turned and walked away as my friend finally found me.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“I don’t really know,” I answered, watching her disappear through the door to the library. “But I’m going to find out.”