The 19-year-old Virgin Ch. 10

I spent the next day making up to her. The only times I let her out of bed were to go to the bathroom and then to bathe her. I made her breakfast and fed it to her in bed, with a blindfold on, taking away one of her senses. I bathed her in a bubble bath as hot as she could stand the water, washing her face carefully, shampooing her hair, and making her giggle when I poured water over her head to rinse and made her sneeze.

I washed her body, slowly, carefully, very thoroughly, enjoying every fold as I washed all the way to the bottom of it, making her sigh with pleasure.

"Relax now," I said, letting the water drain and then refilling the tub, pouring in plenty of her lilac-scented bubble bath. I took one of the big bath towels, folded it into a nice pillow, and had her lean back, her head cushioned on the pillow I made.

I lifted her arm, inspected, and found the hair in her armpits had grown out enough that it was no longer scratchy and stubbly. The chub rub there, where her soft upper arms rubbed against her sides where that pad of fat circling her body at her breasts, was slightly darker than the surrounding skins and much thicker, almost callused, unlike most of her skin which was very soft.

I moved her hands until they were behind her head and then began lightly exfoliating the skin of the inside of her upper arms, her chub rub, and her armpits with her loofah. I stroked very softly with the scratchy sponge, lightly brushing and exfoliating the skin there.

Her eyes were closed and she was relaxed in the hot water.

"Oh. my. God," she breathed, softly, each word a separate sentence the way she said it.

I kept at her, with the loofah, until the skin of her armpits, down her sides, was pink and I was pretty sure if I brushed once more little droplets of blood would start forming.

When I kissed where I had exfoliated her she shuddered and moaned a soft, "oh God."

I helped her out of the tub then and dried her, carefully and thoroughly. She squealed and tried to get away when I dried the skin I had just exfoliated so completely. With only a single cell layer between nerve endings and the towel, she was terribly sensitive.

I walked her into the bedroom and helped her onto the bed.

I moved around so I was on my knees, between hers, and pushed, gently but insistently, while she parted her legs, lifting her knees a bit in that way of fat girls until she was completely exposed.

And I started again with the loofah, this time those slightly darker semicircles, the chub rub at the tops of her thighs.

"Oh, God," she moaned again as I lightly brushed with the scratchy sponge and then louder, a firm, "OH, GOD" as I started on her labia.

Her hands would clench into fists and then relax as the loofah caressed sensitive skin and then was lifted.

About the fifth stroke with the loofah she gasped, her body tensed, and thick, milky nectar overflowed, running down the crack of her ass, looking like she was leaking after I had cum in her.

But I didn't stop. I kept lightly caressing her with the sponge until, like her armpits, I was sure the next stroke would draw blood.

Only one cell thickness of skin remained when I bent to first blow softly and then kiss where that thick white honey was running freely now.

She shuddered and another gout of that beautiful intoxicating brew of her pleasure didn't quite "squirt," but ran freely, forming a thick white puddle where her big ass met the sheets.

Another three minutes of my attention, though, and this time she did squirt. It's called female ejaculation and this was exactly that. Four hard pumps, looking like my ejaculation, left a thick white line between us. I caught the last pump in my hand and smeared it on her belly, rubbing it in like skin lotion, before bending forward and returning to the oral sex I was giving her.

She was flowing then and I drank her pleasure like fine wine.

She was thick and hot and oily and salty and I loved her taste as I drank her greedily.

And she was liking it too. Her fingers were in my hair, twisting, hurting a little, but mostly holding me against her. Using my face as a sex toy.

I liked it.

She came one final time. Her back arched and what I felt in my mouth was different, hot and thin, almost watery, very salty. I sucked and swallowed greedily.

Her fingers in my hair pulled me off of her.

"Oh, shit," she said, very softly, "enough, baby, enough."

"Am I forgiven?" I asked.

She giggled and held out her arms.

"Not until you fill me up," she said.

This time it was my turn to giggle as I crawled up, kissed her, and slipped inside.

"Fill me up," she said as I started my rhythm.

So I did. My rhythm was slow and steady and she was so slick I felt no urgency. Our coupling, I won't call this lovemaking, was slow and thorough. I had learned her by now, I knew what she liked and where her buttons were, and I pushed them. I nipped at that soft spot under her chin, and then captured her wrists with my hand, pulling her arms straight up over her head. When I licked her armpits, the skin so sensitive there, a single cell thickness between nerve endings and my tongue, she squirmed but I had the leverage in this position.

I think we were both surprised when she came again, her hips thrusting into me.

I kept my rhythm going through her orgasm, then through her post-orgasm lassitude, and then more as she started whispering, "fill me up, fill me up," over and over.

I felt friction starting and realized that I had, literally, fucked her dry.

I liked it.

"Oh, God, baby, easy," she said.

And something in me snapped. All of the frustration, the anger, the hurt I was feeling, just exploded suddenly.

I was in love and she wouldn't marry me. Hell, worse, she was leaving and she told me I couldn't come with her.

So I fucked her.

I fucked her hard as she groaned and then started trying to push me away.

I caught her wrists and said, "You wanted me to fill you up, now knock it off."

"David, you're hurting me," she said.

And I thrust harder, not making love now, fucking her. Wanting to fuck the "no" out of her.

"Ow, Jesus," she was getting loud now.

"Marry me," I said.

"Oh, Jesus CHRIST," she yelled.

Then another "owwwwwww," as I thrust harder, deliberately wanting to hurt her.

Okay, I was a little crazy myself right then.

When I came it was powerful, but it was unsatisfying. Oh, I filled her up all right, but I knew I had gone too far and things would never be the same between us.

"Get OFF of me," she yelled.

And I did, rolling off, to lay beside her.

I was spent and still breathing hard.

"What the fuck, David," she said.

I knew I had crossed a line and all I could say was, "I'm sorry."

She rolled up onto her side and said, again, "What the fuck, David."

"I'm sorry," I said again, "it just all came down on me all of a sudden."

"Huh?" she said.

So I rolled up, mirroring her position, my chin propped on my hand.

"Carla," I said, "you're my first. I love you. But it came down on me that you're leaving and there's nothing I can do to stop you."

Her eyes softened and she kissed me.

"I know, baby," she said, "and I'll miss you too, but there it is. I'm taking that job and you're finishing school. And no, we won't do the 'long distance' thing."

"I know," I said, "I know, but I don't have to like it."

"No, baby, and I don't like it either," she said.

He held me then, comforting me, and I held her.

"Oh, shit," I said as I realized I was crying a little.

She giggled, very softly, and said, "you just paid me a great compliment, thank you."

She offered me her nipple and I took it.

I guess I was exhausted physically as well as emotionally. I drifted off.

I week later I cried again as I helped her load up her car and watched her drive off.