The Good Girl

Dave was several inches taller than I was. But once I stood facing him, half-naked in his studio while a porno movie played on silently behind me, I felt several feet shorter...like a child. I refused to look up at him. I was mad at him. But it was for a completely different reason than why he was mad at me now.

I flinched and hunched my shoulders when he lifted his free hand. I prepared myself for a slap, although he'd never laid a hand on me that way before. Any punishments for unruliness growing up—which had been rare—had always been a swat or two to the ass and then sitting in the corner for a specified time depending on my infraction. It had been a good decade since he'd had to spank me, though.

To my surprise, he cupped my cheek, and his thumb caressed the skin there. I resisted the sudden urge to press against his feather-light touch. To make a sound.

When his thumb moved over to my lips, I finally let out another muffled squeak. He pressed slightly, and my lips parted. While he rubbed back and forth, I wondered what it felt like to him because to me, I was getting turned on.

Something made me look up then. Dave's dark eyes hid anything I hoped to read there. But I had this very bad feeling we were dancing on the line of taboo. That the good girl I knew myself to be may soon cease to exist. To my surprise, that thrilled me.

I pushed the thought away, though, and wondered where he had been. Both the past five months and just a few minutes ago. Why hadn't he said anything when he had found me? Why had he remained silent since? How long had it been? Just a couple of minutes, if that? It felt so much longer. I wanted to yell at him and release my frustrations.

Distracted, my tongue darted out to wet my lips. It met his digit instead. He pressed in further.

I watched his mouth tighten into a straight line. And his eyes narrowed. I felt his thumb move over my teeth then press against my tongue. His fingers under my chin tilted my head back further.

My right hand twitched, and my legs felt weak. Before I could stop myself, I reached out to find Dave's arm. My fingers curled around his bicep. Clutched it for support. For reassurance.

That silent action spoke volumes. That seemed to push us both over the edge.

In one swift moment, Dave slid his hand from my mouth to behind my head, gripped my hair almost painfully, and smashed his mouth to mine. He swallowed my cry of surprise. I was finally able to close my eyes while his mouth played over mine, his tongue forcing its way between my lips.

I could have pushed him away. Maybe I should have. But I didn't.

For years, I had imagined what my first kiss with a boy would be like. Would it be awkward and we'd bump noses? A little sloppy? Maybe he'd have dry lips and just peck me really quick.

Reality was none of that. It was, in a word, amazing.

I leaned into him, returning his affection but letting him guide me. He tasted of peppermint and coffee. His mouth was warm and wet. His tongue was thick, the tip flicking at mine while he teased me.

He finally let me catch my breath. When I inhaled, his woodsy aftershave filled my head. He smelled like...a real man. And I moaned in delight.

I wondered what he tasted, what he felt. Was this awkward at all for him? I'd been around him for most of my life. Despite the times he'd cuddled me close when I was a child, this was a whole new sensation. It made me tingle deep inside, especially in places I didn't know could tingle or feel anything at all.

His left hand finally released mine and wrapped around my back, pulling me against his firm chest that was moving rapidly now like a pumping bellows stoking a fire.

I whimpered when his hard nub pulsed at my stomach through his pants and my T-shirt. He deepened the kiss, holding me so close I could barely breathe. Beneath my fingertips, I felt his muscles while they contracted and expanded. His kiss was intoxicating. It did strange things to my body. It caused unintelligible sounds to escape between our lips.

Even in my mind, I had no control. I questioned if what was happening was wrong, but I dismissed the thought in the next instant when his tongue played over mine. I suddenly didn't care about anything or anyone but Dave and the moment we were sharing.

His knee suddenly pressed between my naked thighs. Without even thinking about it, I parted my legs for him. I focused on the deliriously erotic sensation the texture of his jeans-clad thigh rubbing against my freshly-shaven soft flesh caused. Then his hand cupped my rear, holding me closer.

I hazily thought of the scene in "Dirty Dancing" where Baby asked Johnny to dance with her in his cabin. How he'd cupped her ass the same way—albeit through her pants. And how he had schooled her on what it meant to truly dance dirty.

Dave pulled his mouth from mine. His body away from mine. My mind snapped back to the present. His breathing was loud and heavy, just like mine. My hands shook, dropping to my sides.

His eyes lowered then slowly rose again. I whimpered at the intensity I saw reflected there by the blue glare from the TV and took a step back. The backs of my legs met the chair, and I started to fall.

His hand reached out to grab me, but I landed on the seat of the chair with a loud grunt. Thank God, the seat was soft. I tried to catch my breath, to sort through what had just happened.

Dave stared down at me, shifting his gaze to the TV screen beside us. Before I could object, he knelt at my feet, curled his fingers under my knees on each side, and pulled me closer to him. The chair rolled forward until it hit his body. Then I slid down in the seat when he kept tugging on my legs. I was mesmerized to watch him lean forward. To feel his tongue exactly where I had, only minutes before, wished I had someone who would touch me there.

I froze with a cry still in my throat. It was what I wanted, right? And oh, God, that felt good! I growled low and deep. Or maybe he made that sound because I felt a rumbling against my skin.

Once more, it was over way too soon. I blinked, searching for my voice to tell him not to stop. But I realized he must have come to his senses.

His hand gripped mine and tugged me to my feet again. This time, he dragged me out towards the stairway. He was kicking me out, and I was naked from the waist down! My bare feet slipped on the hall runner when I tried to gain traction and pull free of him.

We were on the second step to the second floor when he finally halted, turned to me, and spoke the first words I'd heard in five months.

"If you want me to stop, say it now."

I shook my head so quickly I wasn't sure I had even done it. I guess it was enough for him because he continued up the stairs. Because he held my hand firmly, I stumbled after him to the second floor landing and then on to the third level.

My head felt a little dizzy while I followed him down the hall. My heart was in my throat. I had no idea what to expect. I had wanted him to come home. I had wanted more from my life. But I hadn't meant this. I never fathomed this ever happening. Yet...

We reached the master suite where he turned me around, put his hands on my waist, and lifted me up. He deposited me so that I was sitting on his bed, my chest tight from breathing so hard. Then I couldn't breathe at all because he parted my legs, tugged on my knees until my rear was on the edge of the bed, and knelt beside the mattress. Like in the studio, I could not see his face, but oh, God, I felt his tongue! It danced across my clitoris—no, my clit...that's what the actresses had called it. It felt like magic...long strokes and tiny flicks that prickled to my senses...drawing cat-like mewls across my lips.

His tongue withdrew, and I whimpered. He was leaning in to touch me again, but he suddenly stopped.

"There's no turning back, Zoe," he said huskily.

I shuddered at the depth of his voice. Thunder cracked, and lightning brightened the room momentarily so that I could see him staring up at me from between my parted thighs with the darkest eyes. If those movies had made me want to masturbate, I couldn't put into words what that look did to me. I dared to think what pleasures this man could give me. I was scared to find out but powerless to stop him...and not altogether sure I wanted to.

"If you're worried about getting pregnant, don't. I've always been the sterile one. And I haven't slept with anyone since my wife."

I could only blink at him. I should have been smart enough to consider that myself. How stup—

"Say it," he growled through a clenched jaw.

His hot breath brushed my bared pussy—a word I'd heard them say in the videos more times than I could count. I thought it appropriate to think of my most intimate place in that way now. Especially since what had transpired in the last fifteen minutes.

I nodded then shook my head. A moment of worry slipped into my head that he might misunderstand what I wanted. My voice was hoarse when I gasped, "Don't stop, Dave!"

"Oh, God, Zoe..." he growled just before he buried his face between my thighs again.

I fell back on the bed, completely lost. I moaned while his tongue rasped against my sensitive skin. When his nose nudged my clit, I reached out and clutched the comforter beneath me. I was getting used to the feeling of his mouth on me—so damn glad I'd taken the time to shave. I felt his breath against my butt cheeks when he lowered his mouth even further, making me shiver.

Then his tongue entered me where only my fingers had ever been. My inner muscles clenched, and I gasped, letting out some sound akin to a whine while trying to suck in oxygen too quickly. The feeling was a wet heat that beckoned something unknown from somewhere deep within me. My hips rose and my legs spread wider on their own.

Was this really happening? In my head, I repeated a mantra of 'Oh, God! Oh, God!', but nothing came out of my mouth except a loud string of moans. Pleasure wrapped around every nerve in my body. They all seemed to draw together at that one central place where the tip of his tongue slipped in and out, changing speed and thickness when he rolled and unfurled that delicious muscle.

His hands lifted my ass even higher, moving my pussy to where he wanted, his fingers holding my swollen, damp lips apart.

I stared at where the ceiling was supposed to be, blinking sporadically. His tongue alternated between sweeping back and forth and stabbing at the tight ring. Coaxing more mewls from my throat. Occasionally, he flicked and sucked at my clit, his breath coming in sharp bursts from his nose, tickling my skin.

Pressure built in my belly. I felt intoxicated with the pleasure I was experiencing. Then he abruptly pulled away. I writhed on the bed, unsure how to voice my displeasure. But my frustration only lasted a moment because, just like in the last movie I'd seen, he slowly slid a finger into me.

I cried out in delight. It was so much better on the bed than in the chair. His fingers instead of mine.

"Oh, Zoe..." His voice was a low rumble, his breathing shallow. He continued to stroke his digit in and out slowly while he spoke, drawing soft moans from me with each gentle thrust. "You're so tight."

He was making me feel so good...like I was floating. Flying. Suddenly, there was a slight discomfort down below, and I whimpered.

"Shh. It's okay, honey. It's just two fingers now."

My head rolled from side to side. I wanted to make sense of what he was doing to me, but at the same time, I wanted to let go and not think at all. With each stroke of his fingers inside me, the pressure lessened a little bit, and I began to relax as a tingling sensation grew from deep within.

He removed his fingers for a moment, but then he was pressing again...stretching me wider. There was more pressure than before and a sharp sting that made me cry out. But before I could linger on the pain, he rubbed my clit...probably with his thumb.

Oooh! It was so good!

I heard him pull a tissue from the box on the nightstand, then it felt like he was wiping me below. I whimpered at the varying textures touching me. When his fingers began playing again, I moaned.

"Good girl, Zoe."

My hips arched. He kissed my inner thigh, and I felt the rumble when he echoed my moan. The combined sensations created an ache in my breasts. I fondled them just like I had done numerous times this week while masturbating. Except now, I didn't have to concentrate on fingering myself, too.

At some point, Dave increased the speed of his thrusting fingers. When he spread apart my labia from above with his free hand and leaned in to lick my clit, I cried long and loud.

"That's it, honey. Be a good girl and come for me."

Something about his words—the approval and warmth in his voice—sent me over. I screamed and writhed while he sucked on my clit, his fingers rapidly plunging in and out of my pussy.

We were both panting heavily when he pulled his fingers free. I whimpered at the sudden loss, and he chuckled. I was slightly incoherent while he pulled the navy comforter and sheets aside. When he arranged my body so I was lengthwise on the bed, brushing some stray tendrils behind my ear before he stood up.

Through half-lidded eyes, I watched him undress. The room had good natural light from two skylights and a French door that led onto a small balcony. But with the growing storm outside, it was darker than usual. For now, I could only see his silhouette.

I'd seen him before without a shirt on when he worked in the yard, after a shower, or first thing in the morning. But this? This was different. This was a man disrobing to have sex. With me.

Facing me, he lowered his pants. When his boxer shorts followed—and lightning lit up the room—I became quite aware, taking in the sight of his length. The way he was already hard. I flinched and must have made a strange sound.

"Shh, it's okay, Zoe," he soothed.

I caught glimpse in the flashing light to see his penis—no, his cock—bobbing when walked toward me. I was far from an expert on the male specimen, but compared to the men I'd seen in the videos thus far, he looked a better candidate for a porn star than they did.

Dave slid onto the mattress beside me. The backs of his fingers brushed across my cheek before his thumb traced over my lower lip. He smiled, his eyes slowly grazing over my face.

I squeezed my legs together, my pulse hammering in my throat. For one brief moment, I was overwhelmed with nerves. Yes, he'd made me feel wonderful so far. Was I ready to take the next step, though? Surely, he'd understand if I wanted to stop now. Right?

But my thoughts disintegrated like a piece of paper in the rain when he leaned in, tentatively brushing his lips over mine so gently it was as though he were kissing me for the very first time. His kisses lingered for a moment, and then they intensified. His fingers buried in my hair, tilting my head this way and that as it sunk into the pillow. Our tongues eventually played, and I felt a yearning growing deep within me again. But I still didn't know how to handle that feeling, so I whimpered and wiggled beneath him.

Stroking his hand across my belly, he whispered for me to relax.

I tried. I really did. But how does one relax when a handsome man has kissed you? A man that you'd known all your life...considered a father-figure? And he touched you intimately in places you never imagined he ever would? And he was still kissing and touching you...

My heart was beating so hard and fast. I wondered if I might die from all this excitement. Then what would he tell my parents?

His fingers brushed my side, and I rolled into his touch. I shuddered slightly when his hand grazed over my waist, slipping beneath the hem of my shirt. He gently bit my lower lip and sucked on it while his hand slid into position, cupping my breast through my bra. I could feel his thumb caressing my nipple through the cotton material, and I arched my back with a slight gasp.

Oh, that felt nice!

"Mmm," Dave growled softly against my cheek. "You like that, honey?"

I tried to answer in the affirmative, but my face was pressed to his neck, so it came out as a mumble. With each shallow breath, I was drowning in his scent while my sanity dissolved. He rubbed my nipple with a little more pressure, and I jerked, moaning.

"Yes, I think you do."

Cool air swept over my belly when he pushed my shirt up. I choked when he tugged the cup of my bra down, revealing my breast. The change in temperature and the arousal building within me made my nipple pucker painfully, but it only lasted a second before his warm mouth covered it.

He lathed his tongue again and again over my nipple, sometimes tightening his lips around it and suckling gently. It felt so damn good I felt tears in my eyes. My hands held his head to my chest, my fingers lacing through the thickness of his hair. I shuddered when his moan vibrated against my body.

He released me only long enough to pull my shirt and bra off. Then he was lying on his side next to me, his chest pressing against the length of my upper body, hot skin to hot skin. His hand returned to caressing my side. For the longest time, he played with only my breasts, alternating from tongue, teeth, and lips.

When I grew restless and wiggled beneath his touch, he growled long and deep. I don't know if he was telling me to be still or if he was as aroused as I was. I think the latter because he kept my nipple in his mouth, but his hand slid down over my hip to settle between my legs. I propped my foot flat on the bed to get in a better position to help him, undulating beneath his touch. My one hand was still threaded in his hair. The other gripped the bundled sheet beside me.

After a while, he stilled, no longer worshipping my breasts. My eyes fluttered open to see him leaning over me, watching me.

He smoothed the hair on top of my head. Traced the outline of my ear. Trailed his finger down the side of my neck. His breath caressed my cheek when he said, "You are so beautiful, Zoe."

I turned my head toward his. Our lips met in a kiss while he continued to stroke me languidly from within, his thumb keeping a steady pressure on my clit throughout.

Eventually, he withdrew his hand and repositioned himself. Rolling on top of me while his hands slid up my thighs, spreading them so he lay fully in the middle of my legs. I struggled to breathe as the weight of his body pressed down on me, but I didn't want to tell him to move lest he stop altogether. So I panted and waited.

He cupped my shoulders, returning to kiss my breasts. His belly was warm against my pussy. I arched up, trying to rub against him. But the motion only succeeded in heightening my frustrations.

Dave's torso rose suddenly, and I sucked in an ounce of oxygen before I felt him pressing against my opening once more. But the blessed breath was cut off when I realized his hands were still on my shoulders. That it was his cock against my pussy.

The more our intimacy had intensified, the more I had expected—hoped—for it to go this far. But now that the moment was actually here, I panicked. I arched my back in an attempt to relieve some of his weight from me. While it worked, it also elevated my hips just enough that the movement allowed him to slip inside a little.

I cried out, my body tensing while I clawed at his shoulders.

"Shh, Zoe," Dave murmured, stroking my hair.

I whimpered, every part of my body trembling.

"Relax," he insisted, his hands kneading my shoulders.

I tried to take a deep breath, but it didn't help.

He lifted my chin with one finger, coaxing, "Honey, look at me."

Reluctantly, I slid my gaze to his, my brow creased in uncertainty. As our eyes met, Dave's mouth formed a tender smile, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.