On number 9

“She fancies you.”
“No she doesn’t.”
“She does.”
“She definitely doesn’t.”
“You should fuck her.”
“But I’m not even bi.”
“But you fancy her.”
“Fuck her.”

Whispered challenges at 3 am – not usually the start of a beautiful thing. But in this case the boy was right – she did fancy me. I knew it, and it made me tremble. It made me horny. It made me arrogant. It made me feel like the creepy guy who stares sleazily at girls as they hang off the bar.

She was smaller than me, and that made me feel powerful. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and protect her and carry her like she was mine. And she was so curvy – an arse you could slap with a satisfying ‘thwack’ and tits you could bury your face in. She jiggled when she laughed, and mesmerised not just me but the guys in the room too – even the gay ones. Fascinating tits, trapped in bras that were slightly too small, and tops that stretched thin over them.

After a drunken night out, during which I’d leched at her like a dirty old man, and accidentally brushed her tits with my elbow as I poured drinks for others at our table, she invited us back to crash at her flat.

The boy and I were lying in her bed while she settled down on the sofa in the next room.

“You could fuck her.”
“I couldn’t.”
“She wants you to.”

He stroked me roughly under the duvet as I listened to her moving around in the next room. Turning off lights, lying down on the sofa, getting up again for a drink. Shuffling papers as she rolled a joint. The boy put his face right next to mine and looked at me with challenging eyes. He touched me and felt how wet I was at the thought of holding her – sliding my hand down her pants to see if she wanted it too.

I left the room and stood in the lounge – knickers and a t-shirt and a challenging smile. She smiled back, jerked her head in the direction of the bedroom – wondering after the boy. I mimed “asleep” then went to get water.

She stood up as I came back into the room. Black dress – too small, far too small – hugging her curves, stretching tight across her tits, bra straps digging into her shoulders. I downed my water and turned to her. Casually, like I was just testing, I pulled her towards me and leant down. I put my face right in front of hers, and waited for her to eat me up.

She did.

She was soft, but so forceful. She kissed like a guy, but everything about her was girly – her smell, her softness, her small hands and hard nipples. I couldn’t help but put my own hands all over her – feeling beneath her dress for where her bra began, where the straps dug into her back.

I lifted her skirt up so I could feel the line of her pants on her ass – lacy girlish knickers that I could pull at and grab.

I tried to drag her back into the room with him. She shook her head, suddenly scared, like he’d be jealous and angry. Still holding my face in her hands, she walked back to the sofa. Raised her skirt up over her head and took her dress off. She was stunning – curvy and pale, with long honey-blonde hair. I bent my face to her neck and kissed.

I’ll admit it – I don’t know how to fuck girls. With boys instinct tells me what to do but with girls I’m lost – how do I even begin? I don’t want to tear them and break them, I can’t lie back and let them fuck me. I go gently, slowly, like I’d never do with a boy. So I kissed her neck, I stroked her, I pulled down her bra so her tits were spilling out. I ran my tongue over her nipples, and felt their cold hardness in my mouth. I squeezed her wherever I wanted to squeeze. I ran my hands all over her – her hips, her stomach, her ass. I kissed her cleavage and ran my tongue in the crevice under her tits. I tasted her sweat and her perfume and played my fingertips gently over her nipples.

And when I could think of nothing else to do I put my face into her crotch, buried my mouth in the warm wetness of her knickers and breathed in.

Holy Christ girls smell good. Girls smell different. Girls smell sour and hot and desperate. I hooked my hands under the waistband and pulled her knickers down, unhooking them from one ankle so I could spread her legs wide. I kneeled between her legs, she threw her head back over one arm of the sofa, and I kept my hands firmly on her ass as I buried my face in her cunt.

She was wet. It was too easy. She trembled on first contact, and as I ran my tongue harder over her clit her thighs twitched.

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her panting – she didn’t want the boy to hear next door. Her other hand fluttered, looking for purchase on something, settling on my hair.

As she moved faster, grinding her cunt onto my face, I ran my hands up onto her tits. I took one nipple in each hand and tugged them gently. She let out soft moans, and bucked her hips as I licked her.

Despite trying to be quiet, she let out a few very soft, strangled noises as she came. Not spectacularly, not gushing – she just came. Her legs twitched, she let go of my hair, she shifted backwards slightly, and looked up. She grinned to see me – chin drenched in her come, grinning like I’d done something bad.

I kissed her goodnight.

Back in the bedroom the boy was waiting for me. He lay staring at the ceiling with sparkling eyes, breathing heavily as I entered.

I slid into bed and sat astride him, felt his rock solid cock twitching beneath me. I sat on it – just enough for the tip to sit inside me. He thrust his hips up, desperate to push it all the way in – harder than he’d ever been before. I put my mouth next to his ear. I whispered a quick account of what had happened. He sighed. I asked him if he’d heard. He moaned softly – yes. I sat down, sliding right onto him until his cock was deep inside my cunt, and I felt him shudder and come as I spat the taste of her into his mouth.


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