One Page - 6. Lilli, Deflowered

One Page Series - 6. Lilli, Deflowered

******Short and hot, stories in this series are meant for those of you ready to get off in under 3500 words.

Lilli rode the Staten Island Ferry on purpose when she returned to Columbia after Thanksgiving. She liked being reminded, seeing the Statue of Liberty from the garish orange boat, that she came from immigrants. The sixty-thousand workers that rode that boat every day were from all parts of the world, spoke scores of languages, were caught in the same grind to achieve as her parents and grandparents. She was proud of the whole mess.

"Your life will be uphill all the way," her mother had said so many times, "you need brains and persistence to level the playing field." She drove Lilli to be top of her class, strategic and self-directed. That evening the ferry returning to Staten Island passed in the darkness like a paper lantern, bright and sparkling. It always looked like there was a party on that other boat, going the other way. After all this uphill climbing, where was her party?

I've got to digest what just happened, she thought wryly, remembering she'd swallowed John's semen just as her mother had dictated. Mother had always said that her twenties would be for experimenting with men, her thirties for marrying well. Funny that her mom had gone about it backward, married at nineteen, a cougar at thirty-eight.

Now that Lilli was nearly twenty herself, she understood it was time to experiment and, wow, had her mom started those lessons with force. When they fellated the contractor together, when mother had told her they'd spend Christmas break as a sex tutorial, she obediently agreed, like she always did. But maybe, she considered, I need to take this into my own hands. I don't want to be a complete novice when it happens in front of her. I've got to be able to do something better than my mother.

*******

On Tuesday morning she approached Professor Reddy's office with two cups of coffee and a fierce determination, the low heels of her black Mary Janes clacking on the linoleum. She'd done a thorough and detailed analysis and made an appointment during his advising hours. Today she wore the soft, plaid skirt from her high school uniform, black knee socks and an expensive, pearl-white silk blouse that flowed over her breasts, the lacy edges of her carmine bustier just showing, her straight black hair tied back in a single matching red ribbon. Lilli knocked, businesslike, knowing that fortune favors the bold.

"Enter," he said in a firm, british-inflected Indian accent. Behind his oak desk in a trim, three-piece wool suit, he smiled when she offered the coffee tray, leaning forward, displaying cleavage. "What is it I can help you with Ms. Lee?" The smell of coffee filled the room as she removed the lid of her cup and slowly took a careful sip with lips painted to match the bustier.

"I picked you, Dr. Reddy," she said, "after a complete review of all the instructors here."

"Hmmm, I'm not your advisor and, looking at your profile, it seems I'm not teaching a subject in your major. I'm commercial law. Are you thinking of changing course?" He looked puzzled, but curious.

"I need a sex education."

The dark man's lips pursed, his eyes widened slightly, darted to her cleavage and back. He sat up and said flatly, looking over his glasses, "from me."

"You're single, fit, smart, experienced, disciplined and honorable."

There was a long silence as their eyes locked, hers inviting and matter-of-fact, his thoughtful, the gears turning.

"Also, I found you on Sapio," she said, sitting primly, hands clasped in her lap, watching him. She'd left her blazer in the anteroom, knowing the chill of the late November morning would prick her nipples to gumdrops.

"You've done your homework." He said simply, still thinking. "Where? How often, who ends it, what about grades? These are a few of the parameters you must consider."

"You and I both think like lawyers, Professor," she smiled. Lilli leaned forward and rested her bust on the desktop. "I'm considering a three week course in your bedroom, starting today, classes every Tuesday and Thursday evening, either party may cancel at any time. I'll be the one giving the grades."

He studied her displayed body, "You know I have a daughter your age?"

She looked up from lowered brows and in her smallest voice whispered, "I can call you Daddy..."

The coffee cup quivered as he picked it up.

*******

That evening at seven Dr. Reddy buzzed her in from the snow-dusted stoop of his Harlem brownstone, a third floor walk-up. Lilli realized she was anxious as she smoothed her skirt for the fifth time. He opened the door, still in his suit and she entered, still in her plaid and silk. He took her blazer and draped it over a chair, offered a small bar of alcohol and sodas.

"I also have a variety of teas and sparkling water if you prefer," he said formally, that accent doing as much to melt her as his brown skin and dark, short, shiny hair. The tortoiseshell glasses had an effect on her, too, she noted.

Lilli had picked a man just a few inches taller than herself, figuring that, for a training-wheels experience, it would be best to start smaller and work up to a horse cock the size of John's. She remembered his girth in her and mother's small hands, how just the knob filled her mouth. She'd already made sure an average organ would be welcome in her vagina by testing with a dildo over the weekend. Several times, in fact.

She accepted a single-malt scotch on Dr. Reddy's advice and they stood, glasses in hand, a palpable anticipation in the tastefully appointed living room. Crisply framed contemporary art and gilt mirrors lined the walls. The apartment was very warm and the bookcases neatly ordered, the thick curtains pulled closed against the cold. The drink warmed her from the inside. She could imagine getting comfortably naked. Quiet music played. Dr. Reddy stood poised, watching her take in the room.

"You're quite a self-possessed young woman, Ms. Lee," he said, "I expect you have an idea how you want your lessons structured?"

"I'd like to become familiar with the components of the act tonight. Show me what parts of my body and yours react to what stimulus."

"You've probably read a lot about this, but have no actual physical experience, am I correct?"

"A few clumsy encounters. No penetration." She blushed a little at the admission. He looked so confident, worldly, and she suddenly saw her brave, but naive self trembling before him. Should she tell him she'd blown the contractor? Maybe better if he assumed she knew nothing about a man's body. For educational purposes, anyway.

"So, we could start with the voice and the aroma of the body, without touching..." Dr. Reddy removed his jacket, draped it with hers, then unbuttoned his vest. Lilli wasn't entirely certain they couldn't just bypass this part, but was willing to be patient. He was a professor and twice her age. His experience is what she came for.

It's what I'll come for, she thought and laughed. He looked at her quizzically. "I'm nervous," she admitted, knocking back the last of the scotch, feeling pleasantly lightheaded already, a little fuzzy around the edges.

"Of course. You set the pace," he said and she reached to begin pulling loose his striped repp tie, unbuttoning his shirt. Lilli's insides tingled. She kicked off her shoes as she disrobed him, the thick carpet a massage to her sock-clad soles. The cotton of his shirt as she peeled it away made her fingertips sing. His salty, metal scent flared her nostrils and she took a deep breath of him. Different from John, the carpenter. She felt a further loosening in her pelvis, a slipperiness down there. Could he smell her?

His shirt off revealed a lean, thick-haired torso. "My turn," he said, "OK?" She closed her eyes and held her arms out to the sides. Dr. Reddy began with the silk blouse, each button popping. He put his mouth to her neck and breathed in, the deep guttural growl of it in her ear. She felt the tails of her blouse tugged from her skirt, the breeze of it being whisked away. Then his fingers along her collarbones and his lips on her throat.

There hadn't been any of this with John last week. Her mother had her open her shirt and dive right into the carpenter's jeans, pull out his dick and get to work. It hadn't been about her pleasure, but how to get a guy off, control him. This was way better.

Dr. Reddy took his time.

"It fastens in front," she said when he reached around her back to run his palm across the lacy bustier.

"Practical girl," he said, appreciatively, and kept his lips on her clavicle, a finger running along under the carmine lace of one cup while he pulled down the tiny, soft zipper. She opened her eyes to watch the silk fall away and her full breasts, nipples stiff, meet the warm air. He moved a hand to heft a breast gently, its weighty pink flesh tingling as he ran a thumb across the hard nub. Dr. Reddy tossed the garment aside. She gasped when his lips met her nipple, his hand on her back pushing the breast onto his scratchy face. He suckled, pinching her other nipple gently, teasingly. Her legs quivered, standing there in just her plaid school skirt, kneesocks and sticky panties.

Her hands seemed to want to be touching flesh. Her lips did, too. She ran her fingers through his short, wavy hair, holding his head to her breast, relaxing into his embrace. He stood and asked, admiring her full pink-flushed breasts, "I should know how much exact experience you have. Have you been, as they say in this country, to first base?"

She blushed, really feeling like a school-girl again. Well, still a school-girl, she supposed. Oh, hell, might as well be honest. "Technically, I've been to third base," then she remembered, "Daddy. It wasn't so great. Can you show me?"

"Let's sit together and you tell me the details." Dr. Reddy led her to the many-pillowed couch where she sat beside him and leaned back into his encircling arms, resting on his hairy chest. He cupped a breast in each hand. Her fingers stroked the warm wool of his slacks. "How did you technically get to third base?"

"Well, I had this one boyfriend, Andrew, in high school. We, uh, we kinda played doctor some." Dr. Reddy was kneading her breasts, gently, in a most pleasing way and they stiffened. Her knees wanted to rub together. Her thighs were getting itchy. Sweaty, too, in the plaid skirt. She ran her hand up to the man's belt line, let her fingers test his dark hairs there. "Andrew and I kissed a lot and he wanted more."

"Guys usually do," he said, pulling at her nipples.

"So, yeah, I let him touch my breasts. Like you, mmm, Daddy, but not like you. I mean, he was clumsy." The hair on his arms tickled deliciously.

"Most of us are, at first."

"I never saw his, his...his penis. But I rubbed him through his pants, so maybe it was second-and-a-half base?" She let her hand wander to the lump in his slacks. It was bigger than Andrew, smaller than John. "Andrew came quick and got real embarrassed."

"I won't be embarrassed if you touch me," Reddy breathed in her ear.

Lilli pulled loose his belt and he helped with the button. Then he unzipped, one-handed. His white briefs were thin. It wasn't difficult for her to find her way into the fly and get a hand on his hardness.

"Just feel him first. Get to know him," sighed Dr. Reddy, watching.

He was hot and firm, velvety and alive; hand-sized, hand-shaped. She pulled him out. The proud cock stood in the folds of the briefs, dark, curved, rippled with veins, and a cowl of foreskin that moved with her hand as she stroked him. Like with John, a little attention brought fluid from the eye. She felt her own body's liquid response, the heat in her center. Lilli leaned closer, opened her mouth, like her mother showed her.

"Wait," he said, pulling her back. "Let's leave that to a lesson all its own, OK?" Dr. Reddy stood and peeled down his slacks, folding them, draping them on the chair, laying the briefs on top. He kept his glasses on. Sprawled on the couch, she drank in his lean, dark furred body as he knelt before her, his prong stiff and dripping. "Let's take these off," he said, pulling the skirt and panties from her body. She lifted her hips for him, showing a man her pussy for the first time, heart racing.

Looking intently at that red delta, he said, "You can see my body responding to your smell, your touch. What's yours doing?" He brought his lips to a raspberry nipple, his heat warming her thighs where they parted around him.

"I'm jelly and jumpy at the same time." She quivered inside. "My body's all soft, but I'm ready to leap out of my skin."

Dr. Reddy smiled, walked his lips down that body, teasing that skin and she shook. "I'm going to taste you, OK?"

She couldn't answer.

His firm tongue and soft lips made a moist trail across her belly, back and forth as he palmed her thighs. Lilli sank lower and her hips rose to meet his seeking mouth. "This is to make sure you're ready," he said, his tongue parting her folds, delicately probing into the wet, adding his own hot drool. As he gently parted her she melted inside and out. She radiated, she glowed, her skin, at every point alive, reached for his touch.

"Lubrication is everything." He smiled as he raised up, chin shiny. "Are you ready?"

In the mirror she saw herself spread around his lean, dark, hairy body, a pale ragdoll, one foot on the floor, the other on the back of the couch, one sock bunched at the ankle, shoulders on the bolster, her hair a mess, eyes wild, someone she didn't recognize. Briefly she wondered if that's why she chose a man named Reddy. Was she just an unconscious drive, guided by a secret self, one body looking for another? He was Reddy. She was beyond ready.

All she could do was look at him hungrily and nod. He leaned down and kissed her lips for the first time and she tasted herself on his mouth. The tongue that had just probed her slit now probed her lips, teased at her own tongue, their salty slipperiness mingling. His chest hair raked her nipples, his weight eased down onto her soft body, she felt his cock press against the length of her spread vulva, sticky and hot. They kissed for a long minute, bodies together, slowly rising and falling, that cock sliding along in her wetness, while her insides hungered to be full of him. Lilli's hands ran in circles on his firm back, her fingers singing with pleasure. She felt bereft, empty, when he raised up again, looking down, smiling.

He took his organ in hand and eased forward. Lilli curled up to watch, belly quivering, their foreheads touching. The purple knob, foreskin pulled tight behind the corona, pressed into her pulpy, wet, red petals, slowly spreading them, opening her. She felt her insides move, a fullness beginning, an urge to drive herself onto him, to get him deep. But he went slowly, balanced above her and sinking, centimeter by centimeter, vein by vein, slipping in the fiery wetness. No need for lecturing now - experiential learning again proving the best approach for her.

In the mirror she saw him uncoiling, his curved back and buttocks above, her splayed legs and wild hair below, her breasts lying soft and pink. Looking down, her clit lay exposed, engorged, pressed out of its hood by the thick shaft passing slowly into her below it. She'd thought, when watching porn, that these gymnastics looked silly. But being the gymnast, being pierced, being filled, Lilli felt beautiful.

It was all right. Perfect. The dance of the bee on the flower. Her flesh danced with his, their fluids mingling, their heartbeats in rhythm. When he'd sunk all the way in and his coarse pubes pressed into that exposed clit, she began heaving. A cry flew from her mouth, her body rose to his, then his withdrawal and the increasing hunger to have him deep inside, hungrier with each thrust. They rose and fell in waves. And with each wave the peak came higher. She lost her breath, she made sounds she'd never made, they squelched and grunted and within it all a kind of surrender. Her flesh knew what to do. Lilli held on, grasping at his rocking body, rocking with him, curling up onto his piercing shaft, the pleasure making her one quaking need, the vibrations of her ecstasy rising in pitch beyond sensation.

He pounded, but gently. He split her, but tenderly. He thrust and he thrust and he thrust and she climbed into joy until, as his body trembled under her fingers, as he shouted and sank down to crush her into the couch and the hot honey filled her, she went nova, blinded by the explosion of pleasure that raced from her center to the ends of her fingers and filled the room with heat. Even with her eyes tight shut everything went white for a time.

The explosive pulses ebbed and slowly their rocking became simply the gentlest pressing of groin to groin, the merest movement of their flesh against flesh broadcasting the long exhalation of their lust from their bodies. She liked his weight on her and the abrasion of his hair on her breasts. Her head pressed deep into the cushions, her legs limp, she lay under him and clung to that new sense of fullness slowly receding. She wondered if she'd ever feel right being empty. Lilli felt a kind of hunger that hadn't been there before, a longing for a missing piece, an appreciation for how much there was still to learn.

Fingers doing arabesques across his sweaty back, she whispered, "I'll be ready for class on Thursday, Professor. What's my homework?"

*******

If you've made it to the end, may I ask for a comment, please? The benefit to you is that I'll be much more encouraged to write and to write more often. Your feedback makes my stories better. Thanks for reading.