All characters in sexual situations are over the age of 18.
Rafia Saad rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer. Looking down the quiet residential street, she felt nervous, awkward. If the pink and violet skies offered a portent of the night to come, Rafia ignored it, hoping instead only for a little relief from the sticky summer heat. She smoothed the light cotton fabric of her new party dress: a festive lime print, the hem of which fell just above her knees. Despite its modest cut, Rafia's father - a wiry man, with a shiny brown head - had clucked his tongue disapprovingly as she left the house. Rafia didn't care. This party, she knew, was her big debut with the other girls from Roosevelt College. She wanted to look her best. Perfect.
Rafia rang the bell again.
She could hear faint music coming from inside the house. Looking at her reflection in the glass of the door, she flicked a tangle of long dark hair from her shoulder, licked her dry lips. Under her dress Rafia wore a sheer black panty, the single piece of racy clothing she owned. It was her one prized possession, a secret indulgence she hid from her father. She imagined later tonight lifting the hem of her dress ever so slightly so that her date might get a glimpse of what she wore underneath.
The door suddenly burst open and loud house music spilled out onto the front porch along with Veronica Smith, one of the most popular girls at Roosevelt. Veronica had invited Rafia to the party, even promising to set her up with one of the local boys from the varsity football team. For a new girl in town, Rafia considered herself very fortunate.
"Rafia!" Veronica said, her arms outstretched, a large plastic cup in one hand.
She kissed Rafia delicately on the neck. Leaning back and giving Rafia an appraising look, Veronica pursed her lips and smiled. She had an intensity about her that both intimidated and intrigued Rafia.
"You look fabulous," Veronica said. "The color of that dress looks amazing with your skin,"
She held the storm door open with her foot, motioned with her head for Rafia to follow. "Come in, come in," Veronica said. Rafia grinned and made her way into the house.
Part of what intimidated Rafia about Veronica was her incredible beauty: green eyes, creamy skin, high cheekbones. Her dark hair was straight and shiny, unlike Rafia's own hair which was wild and tangled and always needed some sort of attention. And part of it was Veronica's abundance of confidence. Her father was wealthy and this probably accounted for much of her self-assurance. She was also Roosevelt's homecoming queen this year and - as Veronica herself liked to point out - had been on the varsity cheerleading squad since she was a freshman. Not only did she always get what she wanted, she always seemed to get the best of everything. Veronica was, Rafia thought, a classic American girl - sexy, popular and assertive.
"Rafia's here!" Veronica announced to the party.
As she marched Rafia into the kitchen, girls smiled and nodded towards Rafia. The boys were off clustered in small groups of their own. Rafia knew most of their faces, if not all of their names.
"Do you want a drink?" Veronica asked.
Not waiting for an answer, Veronica took an oversize red plastic cup and filled it with punch. "Always make your own drinks," Veronica said in a low, conspiratorial voice. Rafia nodded, reaching for the cup.
She sipped the drink, a fruity concoction spiked with hard liquor. Realizing at once the punch was much too powerful for her, Rafia hid her displeasure. Better to nurse the drink, than risk offending her host.
"I'm going to find Logan," Veronica said. "You'll like him. He's nice - and so excited to meet you!"
Logan Reese was the football player Veronica had promised to introduce Rafia to. An attractive boy, he had a barrel chest and a large head, which rested on his thick shoulders like an upturned pail. Rafia had already decided that - if she had the opportunity - she would sleep with him later tonight. That is, if he'd have her. If he'd want to have sex with her, a freshman girl new to Roosevelt. She imagined he would, and her body tingled with willful anticipation. To Rafia, it seemed as if all the American boys were eager to sleep with most any girl. Likewise, all the girls seemed pretty obliging themselves.
Veronica appeared in the crowded kitchen, this time towing Logan behind her along with her own boyfriend, Chet Morris.
"Rafia," Chet said. Taking Rafia's hand in both his own, Chet grinned a winning smile.
He was the first-string quarterback for Roosevelt's championship football team, the Yellow Devils, and he seemed the perfect match for Veronica: strong-jawed, well-muscled, with an outgoing, exuberant personality. He made small talk about the school's chances on the gridiron this season, refreshed his drink, then stood there sipping. Logan, on the other hand, didn't seem to have much to say. Rafia chatted with the three of them and gingerly sipped her own drink until finally, Logan, at Veronica's urging, took Rafia into the living room to dance.
Gesturing for Rafia to lead the way, Logan followed her close behind. He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders, guiding her to the middle of a room where other couples were dancing. A curious boy, Logan always seemed to duck his head shyly before meeting Rafia's eyes with his own.
Rafia and Logan danced with half a dozen other boys and girls. Logan seemed to have even less to say in the living room. Rafia wondered if he found her attractive. Wondered if they'd find their way into one another's arms later tonight. But he seemed attentive enough and the volume of the music prevented talk, so Rafia resolved to be grateful for whatever came her way tonight. She held onto her drink and nodded to the couples Logan introduced her to.
Logan wore his blonde hair in a clipped crew cut. There was color in his cheeks, perhaps from the heat of all the bodies in the room, and his forehead grew moist from the exertion of dancing. Rafia longed to run her fingers over the short stubble on his head.
When Logan finally leaned to her ear and suggested they go upstairs, she smiled and took his hand, eagerly nodding her assent.
Rafia was no shrinking virgin herself. She loved to be petted, especially between her legs. When the time came, she loved to straddle a boy's thigh, grinding her hips and crotch against him until she came. She knew well how to use her mouth and hands to satisfy a date. She'd managed to obtain a diaphragm and had already had intercourse one time, though it had been a big disappointment. Quick and over before she knew it. She longed for a satisfying sexual experience, a partner with fortitude who wouldn't fade.
As she ascended the stairs behind Logan, Rafia enjoyed the other girls' glittering eyes and whispers to one another. Likewise, one or two of the boy's slyly popped their chins at Logan or offered a shaking fist of encouragement.
Rafia enjoyed the attention. She enjoyed the idea that everyone knew she would soon be making out with this popular boy. For Rafia understood what her father did not: This was all part of being an American girl. You had to go upstairs with the boys. Had to be sexy and obliging. A girl had to be willing to give a little.
In the upstairs room, Logan took Rafia's drink from her hand and set it aside.
Holding her tightly, he pressed his tongue into her mouth, his hard cock against her hip. Rafia sighed as she felt his body against her own. He was big between his legs. She grinned up at him, eager to be with someone so self-assured, feeling her own blood quickly rising.
The easy grin Logan had worn most of the night disappeared, replaced now by a look of grim determination. "Come on baby," he whispered, his hand sliding down over her hips, then doubling back, slipping up the front of her dress, and deftly cupping her sex.
She hadn't expected Logan to touch her there so soon. She could feel the moist fabric of her panty rubbing against her sex. Her crotch was undeniably wet. She felt a little embarrassed that Logan now held proof in his hand of her attraction to him, her intention for the night.
"Hum," he softly leered. "You ready baby?"
"Easy, easy," Rafia said.
She chuckled and pushed his hand from between her legs. He nibbled on her neck and mumbled, "You're going to like this baby."
Rafia wondered if Logan had somehow forgotten her name. She tried to remember if he had called her by name even once tonight. He hadn't said much, so she couldn't be quite certain. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He massaged her breasts, and Rafia closed her eyes and purred. She enjoyed being touched, the electric pleasure of physical attention from a boy. He nibbled her earlobe, running his hand down her back. Suddenly Logan took fistfuls of her bottom in his meaty hands and groaned deep in his throat like an animal.
Rafia felt her dress riding high on her hips and groaned herself. His rugged abandon triggered something inside her, an unmistakable desire to be with someone exactly like him, someone who wasn't afraid of sex and who knew how to perform. But his viselike grip pained her. As she tried to squirm out of his grasp, she succeeded only in thrusting her own groin against his already hard cock. Rafia felt her dress rising over her hips, up her back.
She wanted to tell Logan to slow down. Wanted to say that she liked him, that he could simply have her. That he didn't need to be so rough. But it was no good. She couldn't get the words out fast enough, and he wasn't listening anyhow. Her dress came over her head as she backed away from him, a delicate gasp falling from her lips.
Panting from exertion, Rafia found herself standing in the middle of the room in only her panties and bra. The blood thumped in her ears.
For a beat, no one said anything.
Then Logan grinned and ducked his head - that same shy boy grin from earlier in the night - and Rafia felt a surge of relief. She laughed. She shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do, anyway, was to race downstairs wearing only her underwear.
Recovering quickly, she kicked off one of her shoes, then the other.
Logan let her dress fall to the floor and then fell upon her again, kissing her mouth and neck and touching her breasts. To prevent him from ripping her bra, she quickly unfastened it and let her small breasts free.
He took one of her nipples between his fingers, twirling it like a pebble. He backed her onto a nearby couch, laid her down, and then knelt between her legs. As he clumsily tugged her underwear from her hips, Rafia heard the fabric give. She sighed with great disappointment. He'd ruined her favorite panties!
He unfastened his pants and lowered his fly. Rafia saw the head of his thick penis in his hand, and then he was on her. His weight pinned her to the couch, his hand fumbling between their bodies. Rafia smelled whiskey from the punch and a minty aftershave lotion. She could feel the head of his cock press against her sex and then he filled her. He was inside her. She gasped aloud, as much from the shock of being penetrated as from accepting his full weight onto her slim frame.
He extricated his hand and rose up onto his elbows, and she found she could move just a bit. Hard thrusts followed. Rafia peered between their bodies and saw his wet cock disappearing between her legs. His hands cupped her shoulders, his hot breath warmed her neck.
"Fuck, baby, fuck," he whispered.
Rafia wrapped her long legs around his body, accepting him. Riding him. She ran her hands along his torso, the cotton fabric of his T-shirt. He had kept most of his clothes on, while she lay nude underneath him. Their unequal dress made her feel vulnerable. Wanting the comfort of his bare skin, she sent her hands as far down his backside as she could, grasping for his bottom. He rode her this way for the next few minutes.
Finally he raised himself up, ground his cock inside her, and groaned loudly. The wide expanse of his chest loomed over Rafia.
"Take it baby," he whispered in a throaty voice. "Take it!"
He twisted his mouth with lust, and screwed his eyes shut. And then he collapsed. Sighed deeply. Rafia listened to his heavy breathing, felt the bulk of his sweaty head nuzzled beside her own.
Then Logan snorted. He chuckled.
He rose, made a shushing noise with his mouth and gently touched his fingertips to Rafia's lips. Snapping off a nearby lamp, he pitched the room into total darkness.
Rafia felt grateful for the shadows.
She wanted to collect herself. She felt aroused, but not sated. As she lay there, she was aware that he was moving about the room. She heard the door open, the sounds of the music and the people downstairs momentarily growing louder, then fading away as the door softly closed.
She had done it. Not entirely as she had expected, but things never seemed to happen the way you thought they would.
Her skin felt wet. His sweat, her own. As she lay there, she became aware of his cum leaking out of her. She hoped he had gone to retrieve a towel even as she heard the door to the room open again. The sound of the party, then the soft muffled thud of the door into its jamb. His return. Feet padding around in the dark. His feet.
Rafia willed herself not to look at him, though it would have been impossible to see him in the dim light anyhow. She wanted to affect the role of the wounded date. Meant to tell him about how rough he had been with her. Had he really ripped her sexy black panties? She felt annoyed. She meant to make him say her name - Rafia. Wouldn't accept another "Baby" from him for the rest of the night. American boys respected assertiveness.
But she didn't want to be shrill. Not a bitch.
She raised her arms over her head and nuzzled her bottom into the couch. Tone was important. She felt the cool air on her damp underarms, enjoyed the stretch of her torso. Draped one of her slender legs over the back of the couch.
He knelt nearby the couch, his hand on her tummy. Rafia kept her gaze averted. Let him do some work to get her attention.
His hand moved to her breast, massaging her nipple. Cocking her arm over her eyes, Rafia enjoyed the feel of his fingertips on her body. He'd returned to make sure she'd get to come tonight. This thought pleased her. Sure enough, Rafia felt his hand on the inside of her thigh. She licked her lips, tried to remain absolutely still as he explored her. Perhaps he would use his tongue on her. When his light touch moved up her thigh to the hot spot between her legs, Rafia gave a soft moan. His thumb rubbed her clit. Gently rotating her hips, she wanted more of his touch. Could feel her own desire mounting.
He withdrew his hand and Rafia heard him unfasten his fly, lower his pants. Plenty of boys had an appetite - here was one with a stamina to match!
Rafia smiled as he raised her knees toward her chest. She opened herself wide, gave herself over to him. He mounted her, remaining upright. Though she had already surrendered the role of wounded date, Rafia kept her arm mostly across her eyes, the better to focus on her own hard breathing, the orgasm steadily mounting in her body.
She listened to the wet sounds coming from between her legs as he pumped his hips. His earlier deposit had left her wet, slippery. His cock popped out of her and he rubbed its fat head on her lips before sliding himself back inside. He pressed his hands on the backs of her thighs and pumped his hips with abandon. Rafia felt her own pressing needs rising.
Then he leaned forward and put his warm mouth on her nipple. She groaned out loud. Reaching for him, Rafia got the shock of her life - a head full of soft curls, a slim torso. This wasn't Logan!
If the boy recognized it as a gasp of surprise, he didn't let on. Rafia's mind raced. Perhaps there were other rooms on this floor and he had been up here with his own date. Perhaps he left to go to the bathroom, got mixed up and ended up in the wrong room. He stopped suckling her breast. His head was only inches from her own, but Rafia couldn't make out who he was in the dim light. Rafia felt her stomach lurch, even as her body strummed with desire. Whoever this was, she had willingly opened her legs for him. Now he was inside of her. His hips jacking in and out. Fucking her. Filling her with his slick cock.
What would Logan think?
What to do? What to do? - Tap this boy on the shoulder, say, "Excuse me? "
Lying still, Rafia listened to her own heavy breathing. The discovery had cost her some sexual momentum, but the further she got from the find - and the longer the boy pumped his cock between her legs - the less it seemed to matter. She was so very close to orgasm, her first during sex. A deliciously dirty idea took shape in her mind - Rafia decided to wait until after her own orgasm to reveal the mistake this boy had made. Of course, she would allow herself to be appropriately appalled in the aftermath, but only after she had come. As she gave herself over to this course of action, she let go, lost her inhibitions and began to roll her little bottom and moan. Whimper. Rafia rode that slippery fat cock between her legs. Suddenly the door burst open and loud house music filled the room with a rich, driving beat.
The boy raised himself stiff-armed on the couch and shouted with great irritation at the door: "Not done yet!"
Rafia quickly glanced toward the door and - before it was hastily pulled shut - saw a small crowd of heads and shoulders standing outside. The boy on top of her continued to thrust himself between her legs. In the dim light, she could just make out his white teeth. He was grinning down at her.
"Logan?" Rafia said. She had meant it as a question of the boy, but then she immediately turned her head and called the same name to the door. "Logan!"
"He's downstairs," the boy said softly. "He can't hear you."
The boy slowed his thrusts. Now he used a gentle grinding motion of his hips. "Logan doesn't mind," the boy said. He sighed tenderly and settled into a comfortable rhythm with his hips. Rafia considered this new information.
Her mind raced.
No one said anything for a bit.
Then the boy silently began resuming his thrusts. Softly at first, then with growing intensity and purpose. Rafia listened to his breathy grunts, the sound the couch made as it received his efforts. She realized the crowd outside the door was a line. A line of boys. Boys waiting to come inside here.
To come inside her.
Then the boy's body stiffened. He groaned loudly. And for the second time that night, a boy ground his cock between her legs, filling her with warm semen.
Rafia heard the door open and close and someone else was in the room.
A light came on. Chet Morris stood looking at her, his hand on a small lamp at the far end of the couch. Rafia turned her head, looked away. She felt embarrassed that Chet should see her like this - on her back, without any clothes, having just finished sex with some boy who was not Logan. Her face warmed with shame.
The boy atop her quickly rose, his wet dick still thick, bobbing.
Rafia recognized him as Roy Talbot, from the senior class, who was also on the football team. He had large brown eyes and a swimmer's slender body. Earlier this evening, Logan had introduced Roy to her, along with Roy's date - Becky something or other - one of the cheerleaders.
Rafia tentatively glanced at Chet. He smiled warmly - without judgment - his confident movie star smile. Rafia's cheeks burned. She regretted her decision to allow Roy to keep fucking her - she should have told him to stop, to get off. She wanted to explain, but she didn't know where to begin. Everything had happened so quickly!