tagFirst TimeSudden Sex

Sudden Sex

byAnton_Ko©

On August 22nd 2006, at about 11:30 P.M, I met an extraordinary girl whose memory is forever sanctified within my mind.

Looking back, I can scarcely believe all that occurred that sultry night – thus I have decided to put it all down in writing, and so preserve it all for my own solace.

I'd been living in the city for four and a half months and was just getting used to it. I moved there for university and shared an apartment with two other young men – Koreans – whose speech I could barely understand.

Though they sometimes cooked for me, for which I was grateful, they were lazy, bad-mannered and obtrusive characters. I don't remember them even once washing the dishes or doing the laundry.

As I did not exactly like being in their company, I somehow got in the habit of taking late night walks.

I worked part time four days a week at a lousy retail store, where the manager hated me and my co-workers detested me like the devil.

I don't think I am really a hateable person, but all my life I have been isolated and misunderstood. I had never had any interest in people, mainly because they never ceased to offend or disgust me.

I had never been in love and I did not believe it existed. There were bestial passions, surely, but Love, as it is idealised in novels and movies, I just could not believe in.

Naturally, I had never known a girl. As a child, a girl had poked her tongue at me when I offered her some of a cheese sandwich I was eating, and I wanted nothing to do with them since.

I am a sensitive soul. An intellectual. But I could not ignore the fiery urgings that would arrest me at times. Hazy, feathery sensual urgings that possessed me to the point that I was tormented.

A mere glance from an attractive female threw me into raptures of erotic anguish. I denied it constantly to myself and my acquaintances, but I could not ignore the surging desires that wrestled with my reason and attention.

Once, when I was at a cafe, I kept thinking of beautiful women and wondering what it would be like to penetrate one in the brutal manner I used to imagine. Was it really so good? This pathetic world is renowned for overrating things, perhaps it was no different in this case.

Still, that sacred part of me, wherein the desires congregated, like starved, migrating birds, began to throb and expand. I put my coffee down on the stained wooden table and rushed to the men's room.

Bursting into one of the stalls, I withdrew my prick, frigged it for five furious minutes and discharged all over the wall.

Exiting the stall, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a flushed, dishevelled, insolent reflection staring back.

These bouts of madness took hold of me more often as the weeks flew by, and I cursed by lack of self-esteem, my shyness, and my adamant cynicism in general.

Then that night came. I shall never forget it.

I had been on an exceptionally long stroll at night and sat down on a bench near a convenience store.

I saw a girl – perhaps a year or two my senior – standing by a stop sign. I looked at her nonchalantly for a second, met her gaze, and quickly looked somewhere else.

I pretended to be searching in my pocket for something, and then, taking out my phone, made as if I were reading a text.

I heard footsteps on the grimy pavement and before I knew what happened, the girl had sat next to me.

It wasn't at a comfortable distance, like when you're at a train station and someone takes the furthest seat from you: she sat so close we touched.

I didn't know what to do, I distinctly recall being very insulted by her audacity, but this only lasted till she spoke:

"Hey, I'm Rachel."

Instantly I loved her. Her voice was high, but not sickeningly so. I raised my eyes and beheld her face.

She was not beautiful. Her nose was too thick, her eyes too bleary, her lips not shapely enough, her hair too frazzled. But her face beamed with something that towered over abstract notions of beauty. I don't know what it was.

"What're ya doing?" she asked, genuinely interested.

Her question startled me, for I did not know myself what I was doing.

"Um, just reading a te – um, a message," I replied, trying to gather my senses.

"Do you wanna know something?" she asked.

"What?"

"I'm gonna die."

"What?" I was alarmed.

"Doctor said I'm gonna die soon. Maybe tomorrow, or I dunno, soon. Something like that, he said."

I wasn't stupid. No one does such things. I didn't believe her.

"You're not going to die," I said, "why are you here? Why did you sit next to me?"

"I AM gonna die, it's a sickness, you know? Like cancer. What the fuck, man! I'm not fuckin' lying! I'm not fuckin' lying, man!"

Each time she swore she struck my thigh with her little clenched fist. I thought she was drunk, or high, but she looked clean enough – though my disgust for her had begun to mount. She was too unrefined for my taste, though some inflexible part of me kept me glued to the seat.

"Whatever. What do you want?" I said, coolly.

"I don't know. I'm cold," she said, sniffing, "I don't wanna die."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Want me to take you to a hospital or something?"

"No!" she cried, militantly.

"Well, what then?"

"I can't say it."

"What. You want me to buy you something? You hungry?"

"Yeah. A bit."

We bought some hamburgers and ate them on some steps. When she'd finished she laughed and put her hand on my shoulder.

"You know what I wanted to ask you before was, um, I dunno, too embarrassing," she said.

"So you were hungry, what's wrong with that?"

"No, it wasn't that," she said.

It was only now that we began to really consider each other. I looked deep in her watery eyes and saw a passion that, I think, resembled mine. The light all around was dim, and my memory fails me in many details, but I will attempt to paint as accurate picture of her in words as I'm able.

She was not tall, the top of her head reaching only my shoulders. Her complexion was extremely pale, and one might suppose that – being exposed to the sun, she would melt like a snowman.

Her face, I've mentioned, was not exactly pretty – but what did I care? I don't know what I was thinking then, it was all delirium, a whirring, dreamy state – like when you're about to drift off to sleep, and when none of your many troubles seem to matter. Her teeth were almost perfect, her ears delightfully shaped, and her neck elegant and delicately smooth.

She was wearing a tattered yellow cardigan, too big for her, and a black, 'Gothic' skirt. She wore no makeup.

"You've been really kind, man," she said, after a wistful silence, "sorry for botherin' you. I'm a bit crazy, you know?"

"Yeah," I said, with a nervous laugh, not really knowing what the hell was going on, or what I was even saying.

I thought things were going to go really slow, however, and that we'd exchange numbers or something, meet her in a few days, and everything when out of nowhere she said:

"So, do you wanna have sex?"

The question hit me like a hammer, though she asked it as easily, and I didn't know what to answer.

"What? What d'you mean?" I said, very uncomfortable, and feeling dizzy.

"I've never done it, and I might die soon, and you look pretty nice – and yeah."

The last word was uttered as if it were the most convincing, undeniable close to an argument ever given.

"What – just like that? Fine," I said, again, hardly believing my ears and feeling somehow drunk.

"I know I'm pretty crazy, but I saw you," she said – in a tender voice, "and I thought, like, yeah – he looks pretty good, you know? I'm sorry if I'm kind of freakin' you out a bit? Are you OK? I mean, it's OK if you wanna, like, leave and shit. But, you know – I just wanna..."

My limited experience with the female sex told me that they can blabber on for hours on end , and so I shut her up by kissing her on the cheek, then, after she recovered from my bold assault, on her lips.

She lifted her hand and placed on the right side of my face, as I kissed her all over her face: much surprised at my confidence and creativity in this feat.

It started to rain.

"Where can we go?" she said, softly, obviously much affected by my amorous deed.

I thought of my apartment and the two Koreans lazing about on the lounge, chewing pizza and creating a mess, and deemed it out of the question to take her there.

"Not my place," I said, disappointedly.

It only began to dawn on me that perhaps this girl was mentally deficient in some way, which would account for her stupid obsession of dying soon, but I didn't think of it then. As far as anyone was concerned, we were two human beings much in need of satisfying a crucial part of humanity's cravings. She seemed normal enough to me.

She said we could go to her place, about three blocks away, a small house with a little backyard. No one was living with her just then, and I didn't question why.

We soon arrived, I was walking on clouds the whole way – it was all so outrageous.

"This is so crazy," she kept saying, "I can't believe this. I've wanted a man so fuckin' long, but could never get one. You're so good, man," she said, feeling me back, "you're so good."

Her bedroom was untidy, and clothes were heaped all around. Her wardrobe was slanted, wobbly, and covered in stickers of fairies, stars, ponies, and purple bears with oversized sunglasses.

There was a large window with green shutters, a desk with a computer and a statue of The Discus Thrower. The bed was not made, and was situated behind the wobbly wardrobe, out of view. Stacked around it were piles of old fashion magazines and cookbooks. The room smelt like candle wax and mint.

As soon as she shut the door, and switched on a little orange lamp I hadn't seen, she threw herself in my arms.

"Oh, I want you!" She cried, perhaps a little melodramatically, "Oh, kiss me!"

I squeezed her tightly to my chest and pressed my lips hard against hers, sliding my hand up her back, like I'd seen in done in the movies.

I kissed and licked her neck, which made her blush pleasantly and sigh.

I led her to the bed, as if it were my own, and kissed her head down onto the pink pillow.

"Take off your clothes," she muttered, pathetically, "I wanna see you."

This was soon accomplished. She screamed in delight at the sight of my naked body, and felt hungrily all over me.

The rain was falling heavy outside, beating against the flimsy window panes.

She couldn't take her eyes off my cock, but stared at it fixedly, in wonder and delight. She asked, innocently, if she could touch me there, and at my replying in the affirmative, grasped it desperately and fondled it all over.

"Man, it's so big and hard," she said in amazement, "Look!"

I had seen my erect dick thousands of times, but she evidently thought it had only just become so incredibly interesting now.

She seemed content to spend the whole night stroking, handling, kissing my shaft and cupping, bouncing, and smelling my balls; but I wanted more.

She was far more reluctant and reserved about removing her clothes, but after a hundred or so kisses and caresses around her curves, she let me undress her.

By the time I had peeled off her panties she was bright red from embarrassment. I beheld her naked body, and thought it better than I had supposed.

Her skin was milky white, much paler than mine. Her tight underwear had left some red creases across her hips and back, but she was so beautiful to me then I just didn't care.

My prick was bolt upright, in a furious, raging heat. It demanded satisfaction. But I desired to make the most of this.

I held her plump, flabby breasts tightly and sucked them. I placed my hands under her fleshy buttocks and rubbed my dick on her stomach. I don't know why I did this. Maybe to excite her more, with suspense and all that: and really, she began to sigh in short, faint 'Ahs', so I suppose I was successful.

I stroked her arms, her thighs, her hips, and moved my hands down to her cunt.

It was as wet as the window with the rain smashing against it, and she groaned in excessive pleasure as I felt and fingered it.

I inserted my middle finger and forefinger, felt around in the hot, cushion – like interior, frigging her slowly and gently at first, then lightning fast: driving her almost out of her mind.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cried, at every push.

When my arms tired I took my fingers out and she sat up, breathing heavily.

She again felt and fondled my cock, and I encircled her hand around it and showed her how a man wanks.

This pleased her very much, and she frigged me like one insane. After a minute or so, I pulled her head forward (she was on her knees) and shoved it, without warning, into her mouth.

This shocked her at first, as it would any amateur, but I stopped her from trying to free her mouth of it by holding her head in my two hands. In a few seconds, she grew to like it, and sucked me like a piece of candy.

Though her teeth caused me some pain and annoyance, it was pleasurable enough. Saliva began to dangle unpleasantly from her bottom lip, and I took my wet, burning cock out of her mouth and tongue-kissed her.

Her hands wandered over my tingling back, and settled on my backside, where she clutched the cheeks in ecstasies of enjoyment.

Her thighs were tightly shut, and she rubbed them together, as if to appease her pussy's itching for gratification.

I threw her on her back, and not delaying for a second, plugged her with my boiling prick.

Her eyes opened very wide in alarm and wild enthusiasm. She squealed like a little girl, responding to my thrusts with impassioned cries of easing desire.

I had morphed into something I'd long reflected about, but never hoped of becoming. I gave full reign to the lustful imaginings and longings of my body – revelling in that of a total stranger.

I kissed her roughly on the mouth, and her tongue sought mine, like a determined, weary pilgrim. I licked her so wildly, so unconstrainedly, that my tongue lapped her nostrils once or twice by mistake, though I was to dazed to care.

I increased the speed of my thrusts, which caused her sighs to seep through her glistening lips more rapidly. She began to heave herself, eventually coinciding, somewhat, with my relentless, machine-like propelling.

Her pale breasts, jiggling like two fat jellyfish, were almost as red as her gasping face. I bowed my head onto her, whilst I fucked her harder and more vigorously.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" She moaned, rapturously, into my ear. She wrapped her legs (which had been flopping ungracefully about) around my waist.

I marvelled at how light I felt, naked, doing this girl. I felt free, somehow.

She dug her heels into my ass, feeling it with little circling motions. She would one moment have her hands scraping up and down my back, and then place them on my chest, touching it all over with her clammy hands.

By now, the back of her head was pressed against the wall (the pillow had long since vanished) and I raised her legs with my hands and fucked her harder. She huffed and puffed through "Ooh" shaped lips, and continued feeling me in transports of sexual bliss.

I felt a sudden burst of sanity smack my mind and I felt how ridiculous this all was. I wondered why I was even there, felt thirsty, and inwardly mocked the stupid girl under me – her mouth wide open and her dull – witted eyes looking into mine.

I almost felt sorry for her. Here was I, gaining a decent amount of pleasure – though nothing monumental or spectacular, and here was she, almost dying of it.

I felt like flattering her, and began to lick her body, and smother it in kisses, while I rammed her with all my might.

Her hands gripped my back like a savage beast, and she scrunched up her nose, bawled a monotonous "Hah! Hah! Hah! Hah!" and with an extended "Ohhh!" I felt her grip weaken, her arms fall limp onto the blanket, her legs drop, and I assumed she had "finished" – whatever that meant.

I had not come yet, and after fifteen or twenty heaves, during which I felt I was fucking a damn corpse, I forced myself, and spurt hard inside her.

She was exhausted, panting like a fucking dog, but I stayed inside her, and collapsed on her chest.

I don't remember what happened after all that, but I know we both fell asleep.

I awoke suddenly in the dark. The rain had stopped, and I heard a brutal fist knocking on the front door. The girl leapt out of bed, switched on the orange light, hitting her knee on the wardrobe in her haste, and looked at me in terror.

"What is it?" I asked, bewildered.

"Y-ya haff ta get outta here, man!"

"Why? Who's that at the door?"

"Just go! Quickly! Please, get outta here! Please!"

I was still half-asleep, naked, and confused. She threw me my clothes and I managed to slip into my jeans. The furious knocking continued.

"Hurry! Hurry!" she cried, opening the green shutters and then sliding open the window pane.

"Go through here, and don't stop running till you're 'ome! "

She half pushed me outside and, rather frightened by her earnest appeal, ran like hell out of there.

I have never seen her since.

I managed to locate her house again, a week later, but no one answered when I rang the bell.

Was she really dead? Had whoever was knocking that night come to kill her? I fear these questions will never be answered.

But even now, while I'm at my desk, reading, eating, or listening to the rain, I think of her.

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