The First Timers

by Hayden Ash

  “Is that really what you want, Daddy?” She says, taking a step towards me and wrapping her delicate arms up around my neck.

  “Absolutely,” I tell her.

  She gets on her tip-toes and pulls my head down so she can whisper in my ear.

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “I’m…not lying,” I lie.

  “Really?” She asks. “Daddy seems to disagree,”

  Her eyes slowly drop down to my cock. She stares down at it, puts her little hand on my inner thigh, but doesn’t touch it…yet.

  “That was here before you were!” I say—not quite sure why I’m arguing about what prompted my erection with a naked nineteen-year-old harassing me in my shower. “And, stop calling me, Daddy!”

  “I wasn’t calling you Daddy,” she says.

  Then, she bends down on her knees, puts her hands just below my hips, and looks up at the head of my cock.

  “I was calling him, Daddy,” she says. “Hi, Daddy!”

  Then, suddenly, I feel her warm, gooey mouth suck down on the head of my cock. It’s a warm, tender suction—so different from the times my wife has done it to me, and where I legitimately thought she might be trying to rip it off my body with her lips.

  No, she’s taking her time—not just trying to gag on it like a porn star, but actually making love to it. And, it’s because of this that I know I can’t let it continue.

  I pull her up to her feet. She looks back at me—shocked. I’m sure this has never happened to before.

  But, actually, her eyes don’t look sad at all. In fact, they seem much different now. Not devilish, but, rather, really gentle and innocent.

  “Look, you’re a beautiful girl. The prettiest young woman I’ve ever seen, actually. But I can’t let you do this. Not with a married man. You deserve better than that,” I tell her. “Has no one told you that?”

  She puts her head down, covers her face in her hands, and turns her back to me.

  “Are you…are you crying?” I ask her.

  “No…,” she says.

  I hear a whimper, which turns into a sob. She tries to hold it back, but she can’t, and because she’s putting up so much resistance to it, it hits her back so much stronger, and she starts breaking down.

  “Hey, hey, it’s going to be ok,” I tell her, taking a step closer to her.

  Then, I touch her arm and slowly turn her around. Now, we’re facing each other and, without realizing it, my hands just naturally seem to move up to her cheeks, cradling them as she cries.

  And then I kiss her, and, as I do so, she whimpers—much like a girl would when she’s losing her virginity. I can tell that I’m doing something powerful to her, showing her something she’s never experienced before and didn’t even know that she desperately wanted.

  And, oddly, she’s doing powerful something to me, making me feel like, for the first time, there is someone else that could have the effect that my wife had on me when she and I first met, maybe even a greater than that, actually.

  And, suddenly, I find myself longing for a type of love that overpowers the senses and feels completely dreamlike.

  And, even though I logically know it’s wrong, I keep on kissing her, because inside it feels like whatever this moment is right now…it’s right.

  Massy II

  “Miss Pam…please wait. Please wait Miss Pam!” I shout, chasing after this old biddie as she goes to check the guest bathroom and sees that my sister isn’t in it.

  “Um, where did your daughter go?” Pam asks Mom.

  “I, um, you know she wasn’t feeling very well. I think she might have gone in the car to lie down…” Mom lies.

  “Well, should we reschedule, or…?” Pam asks. “I mean, I’m not going to allow someone to take care of my child who can’t even manage to sit through one simple interview.”

  “No, no, I’ll go get her,” Mom says.

  As she gets to her feet, she shoots me a venomous look that tells me that I better get my sister back here or she will make our lives, in no uncertain terms, one never-ending shit show that will make us both want to claw our eyes out.

  But before I can devise a strategy to get Massy downstairs, Pam darts up the stairs like she’s running a 10k.

  I run after her, thinking as I do, how the hell I’m going to stop her from seeing what I imagine is the sight of her husband’s cock inside my sister’s hole.

  When I reach the top of the stairs, I see Pam going straight for the steam-filled bathroom. She knocks hard on the door like she’s trying to smash it open. No one answers at first, inciting even more fury in her, and, of course, she bangs even harder.

  Then, finally, her husband opens the door wrapped in a bath shower, looking yummy as fuck.

  She asks if he’s seen my sister up here and he tells her he’s been in the shower for the past twenty minutes and hasn’t seen anyone. I can tell he’s lying, but she can’t, and while they continue to go back and forth, I race down the hall as quietly as I can, checking every room for my sister, but not finding her anywhere.

  I head back downstairs, and then I see her. She’s sitting all alone on the couch. Her arms are wrapped around her legs, and her head is buried in between her knees, and it looks like she’s been crying. Sad is definitely a color that I’ve never seen on her before.

  I sit down next to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders. We don’t talk for a few minutes; we just sit there as I hold her. It’s a bizarre feeling because my sister has literally never frowned in her life, and now she looks like she was just punched in the gut or, possibly, the pussy.

  “I really like him, Massy…” she whispers super softly.

  “You do?” I ask, genuinely confused.

  My sister does not like anyone. I mean, she really does not like anyone. What the hell is this?

  “I really do, and it sucks,” Kassy says. “Shit, why couldn’t he have just fucked me?”

  “Hey,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. You know I’ve always got your back!”

  Kassy looks over at me, and, in an instant, she knows that I’ve got a plan.

  Joshua IV

  “Put a shirt on, Joshua, no one is impressed with your 8-pack,” my wife says, rolling her eyes.

  I brush past her and walk into the bedroom, and throw on the first shirt I see. Something’s different. Something’s changed. I don’t feel like even getting upset at my wife’s disrespectful tone anymore. It just doesn’t matter to me.

  “Maybe, you should go to finish that interview?” I tell her.

  “What?” She says, really surprised by my indifference.

  “Go downstairs, Pam,” I tell her. “I need to be alone.”

  “Why?” Pam asks. “Tell me, I really want to know…”

  “Well, to be honest, Pam, I’ve been feeling for a long time that you don’t really care anymore…” I say, starting to open up.

  Pam’s phone rings and she answers it—not even hesitating to ignore it so that we can talk.

  “Hello? Really? Um…No! No, of course, I do!” Pam says.

  Then, she ends the call and starts racing towards the staircase.

  “A coworker is bringing over a presentation she wants my opinion on before showing it to our boss at tomorrow’s meeting,” she tells me.

  “When can we talk about this?” I ask, but she’s already gone.

  I pace down the hallway, then pace back up, and when I return , I see Kassy standing there at the top of the stairs…looking radiant, amazing. I really want her. More than I’ve wanted anything.

  But, I know I need to cut this off for her sake as well as mine.

  “Listen, I’m going to make this really quick and simple. This is ending right here. Go downstairs and forget about me, because I promise I’m going to forget about you,” I lie to her.

  Tears form in her eyes, and I feel this sudden impulse to hold her again, but resist it.

  “I understand,” she says simply. “Um, my stomach is really hurting. Could I maybe get som
e medicine?”

  “Of course!” I tell her.

  We walk into my bathroom, and I start thumbing through the different bottles in my medicine cabinet for some stomach medicine. I find several different brands and place them on the edge of the sink.

  “Go ahead and take whatever you need. I hope you feel better…” I say.

  Then, I walk to look out the window because it’s too difficult to look at her.

  I peer out the window into pure, blinding white sunlight. And when the sunlight dissipates, I see my wife standing outside talking with a woman who I assume is her coworker. It seems like they’re arguing about something like the woman is giving Pam a hard time about something. Pam looks nervous, but also intensely focused—like she was during the first time we had sex. Then, the woman takes my wife in her arms and pins her up against the pick-up truck that they’re standing next to and starts making out with her, groping her, and I turn around before I see anymore, because if I do, I might just break the entire window.

  But, as I turn around and face Kassy, I suddenly feel a lot less angry, and the image of Pam isn’t even able to be in my mind. There’s no room. It’s too crowded with Kassy.

  She looks at me, and I look at her, and I take a step towards her and pick her up and put her down on the sink and then I put my tongue in her mouth and reach up her shirt, feeling her soft breasts as I cup them in my huge palm.

  I pull off my pants and take her shorts off and slowly bring my throbbing penis to the edge of her pussy, waiting until the perfect moment to enter her tight, pretty pussy.

  “Wait…” she says. “I have to tell you something…”

  “What?”

  “I…my sister and I tricked you and your wife. Massy stole the woman’s business card out of her truck and somehow convinced her to come back and force your wife to stop hiding what they were doing. Then, I got you to come into the bathroom, so you could see it happen.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I…because I don’t want you just to fuck me. I want you to care about me because I care about you. For the first time, I care…”

  “I care about you, Kassy,” I tell her. “More than you could possibly know. You’ve brought me back to life.”

  Then, she kisses me, and we wrap our arms around one another, and I enter her tight, innocent cunt, feeling every groove.

  Kassy III

  He doesn’t know that I’m a virgin, and I don’t think he needs to know.

  He wants me. He can see me. He looks straight through me. And, I start crying because that’s never happened to me before now and it feels like I can’t breathe.

  He picks me up and puts me down on the bathroom floor. Then, he raises my legs all the way up in the air and then rests them against his shoulders.

  I look up at his massive torso as he kneels high above me as he enters me, fast this time. His big penis pierces me, puncturing my insides, filling me up deeper with every stroke.

  My head falls all the way back, and every fiber of my body shakes all at once and does not stop as it surrenders to the ecstasy surging through it.

  He goes on and on making love to me, furiously pumping his cock into my tight pussy and never stopping, and I just allow myself to feel the toe-curling pleasure, dripping cum like my cunt is a water fountain.

  I take his heavy hand in mine and put his middle finger deep in my mouth and start sucking on it. He takes my hand and brings it to the top of my clit, teaching me that I should stroke it, while he hits it with his fat dick at the same time. My pussy explodes with so much cum, I’m almost embarrassed, but he seems to love it.

  Then, he gets on his back, and I sit down on his penis, slowing falling on top of it, crying now because it’s so big and hard in my tiny pussy.

  He starts rocking me slowly on it, and I can’t stop moaning because it’s hitting me precisely at the right spot. Then, I shift so my feet are up by his head and my hands are behind me, and I start bouncing hard on it, letting him feel my soaking wet pussy hit down on his penis again and again, while I do all the work for a little while.

  “You want Daddy to come in you, sweetheart?” He says.

  His words take my breath away because I thought he hated being called that, and I sense that maybe he does, but he knows that I like it, so he’s trying to like it too. For some reason, this makes me cry yet again. I shift my body and bend down so that I can kiss his lips wet, sloppy, and tender.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I say.

  Then, I feel my pussy bouncing on his dick again as he drills me from underneath and I start screaming because it’s hitting me so deep that I can barely take it. I don’t give a fuck if his cheating-bitch wife hears me.

  He cums inside of me, and I fall down on him, and then we hold each other. And, I know, life will never be the same now that I know what it means to make love.

  Epilogue

  Joshua V

  “And, oh the way, my makeup stains your pillow-case, like your marriage is in flames!” She laughs and sings as we cuddle on the couch and turn on a movie.

  “Don’t be a bitch!” I laugh and start tickling her.

  “Oh my God, did you just call me a bitch!? I think I’m rubbing off on you!” She says, then kisses me.

  “Oh, no…” I say. “I’m too old to be like you or your equally crazy sister. Don’t you remember I just had to bail you guys out after you carjacked a fire truck?”

  “I used to waste my time dreaming of being alive. Now I only waste it dreaming of you!” She sings, ignoring me. “C’mon you really don’t know that song? Oh, my God, you’re such a fucking grandpa!”

  “I am a grandpa!” I say, oddly proud.

  “Oh yeah? Well, come here, gramps!” She says, pulling me in for a kiss.

  I touched her breasts and then her nipples, which are already hard, and then I touch her cunt, which is moist and soft, and ready for me to enter it.

  “My dad’s about to come to pick me up. You know that, right? He fucking hates your guts! I forgot to tell you that Massy said she caught him literally drawing blueprints in his notebook of different ways to murder you…He’s an architect.”

  “Hmm…” I say. “You think I can take him?”

  “I’d rather you take me…” she says and puts my fingers in her cunt.

  This is going to be fun!

  BOOK 20: Trey’s Room

  Savannah I

  “I don’t know what you’re so mad about!”

  “I’m trying to make it work!” He screams at me.

  His voice is high-pitched and hits my ear like a siren. It seems like more and more often.

  “I know, but…I know,” I say, softly.

  “No, tell me!” He yells. “And where are you? It sounds really loud wherever you are. You’re not at that bar, are you?!”

  “No, I have the television on,” I lie to him.

  “I thought you said you don’t watch television. You only watch Instagram,” he says, shrilly.

  “Are you serious?” I ask.

  “Whatever!” he says. “You’re a bitch. You know that? I told all my friends that.”

  “You’re a fucking pussy,” I say—the words just slipping out.

  “WHAT?!”

  “Telling your friends that I’m a bitch? I’m your fucking girlfriend!” I shout into the phone.

  “You are a bitch! And a slut!” He shrieks. “I know you’re at a fucking bar, you lying cunt!”

  “I’m hanging up now,” I say.

  “Wait, no!”

  But it’s too late. I’ve hung up in his face.

  I throw the phone down hard on the bar table and accidentally crack the corner of the glass screen into pieces. I’m too annoyed, the room is spinning too fast for me to care. I don’t know why I’m here at this bar right now, except that I desperately need to feel free. I need to believe there’s something else out there besides the hell I’ve been living for the past four years with my insecure-as-fuck boyfriend.

  I
tap my knuckles repeatedly against the bar table, agitated and anxious even as I consume multiple margaritas that are pretty much full cups of tequila with a sugary after taste.

  He wasn’t always like this. When we first met, he charmed me in every way that a guy could. But, as I finish off yet another glass of alcohol, I realize that those things aren’t real. I don’t want a “boyfriend,” I want a man. A man doesn’t just have fun—he works to provide and to protect his girl. He leads her and fulfills her. He gives her the sensation of a powerful orgasm just by the look he gives her from across the room. He consumes her with her strength, giving it to her in powerful waves that feel like they’ll never end.

  “Hey there,” a man says as he sits in the stool next to me.

  Trey I

  I look at her briefly through the pink, neon lights dropping down on us from above.

  Then, I look forward—trying not to scare with too much intense gazing too soon, but I really want to stare at her, worship her with my unceasing attention. She’s really just that beautiful…so young, so soft, her hair sweeping in front of her eyes and, only rarely, exposing her big, blue eyes underneath. Her lips—so full and perfect that I already want to kiss them for hours.

  “You’re new in town, I can tell,” I say to her, my voice deep yet loud enough to drown at the loud rap music playing around us.

  “I am. How could you tell?” She asks.

  “Good instincts,” I smile.

  “You don’t look like you’re from around here, either.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask, scooting my stool subtly closer to her. “And where do I look like I’m from?”

  “I mean, you don’t look like you’re from anywhere, actually. You’re like the Incredible Hulk over here,” she says.

  Then, she puts her hand on one of my biceps and massages it. Her eyes widen in slow amazement as she feels how massive it is, and she bites her lower lip hard.