by Zetta Brown
“Does this mean what I think it does, Evadne?” he asked backing away.
But I knew what I was doing. I’d been practicing. I replied by tracing his lips with the tip of my tongue, just like I did on my John Taylor poster at home. When Casey tried to recapture my tongue, I got to my feet and his arms wrapped around my waist in a bear hug so fast, I could imagine what his opponent felt when he had him pinned to the mat. My breasts were level with his face as he pulled my shirt over my head to expose a pair of voluptuous 36Ds.
“Jesus,” he gasped.
Embarrassed by the bountiful gifts Mother Nature bestowed upon me, I crossed my arms over my chest. But he gently parted my arms and held them down by the wrists before burying his face between the pillow-like softness of my breasts. His rough beard on my skin made red hot impulses flash to my groin while his experienced fingers told me he had unfastened many a bra clasp before as my breasts tumbled free. His tongue teased first at my right nipple and then the left, bringing them to attention. He made the skin even more sensitive by getting my nipples wet with his saliva and then blowing gently on them. Like ice sliding down my spine, this sensation traveled down and between the cheeks of my ass before melting at the foot of the volcano threatening to erupt between my legs. Down there, the lava was already flowing.
He suckled on me like a child and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to remember my training, but I was numb. My hands hung limp at my sides. Finally, I stroked his head and he moaned, digging his fingers into my ample flesh like he was kneading dough. The harder he squeezed, the wetter my crotch became and I felt embarrassed at wetting my pants. He licked down to my navel and to the gentle swell of my belly.
“Mmm, Sugar Pop . . . so sweet.”
Standing, he took my hand and led me to his bedroom down the hall. To my utter surprise, his room was totally opposite as to how I kept mine at home. His bed was made and there were no clothes on the floor! My mother always scolded me about the state of my room and Casey, too, put me to shame. Although sparsely furnished, the room contained a box spring and a mattress on the floor. A full-length mirror was on the wall to the left of the bed, and a wood crate on either side served as nightstands.
I heard a rustling sound and turned to see Casey removing his shirt, uncovering his slightly tanned torso. He stood just inside the door and I knew that if I had second thoughts, I probably wouldn’t be able to escape—and would never live down the shame. But I didn’t want to escape. I wanted him. I wanted Casey to show me what people do with their bodies when making love. I had read enough theory, now was the time for practice.
He unbuckled his belt. Every movement made the muscles in his chest flex as he jerked his belt left then right before whipping it out of the loops with a whoosh. The soft popping of the buttons as he undid his Levi 501s made me tense with expectation. Then his jeans fell to the floor.
At first I was afraid to look but when I did, I wasn’t disappointed. Casey’s black jockey shorts strained against a swelling that tested the tensile strength of elastic and when the fabric fell away, a long, thick, mast of a cock sprang forth and saluted me with a rosy blush on its smooth, shiny head. He put his hands on his hips.
“Well?”
This being my first up-close-and-personal encounter with a penis, I stuttered like a prop plane, “I, uh—it’s very nice.”
Casey’s laughter did not ease my tension but he pulled me towards him as close as his standing cock would allow. “I meant this.” He indicated my clothes and began to open my pants, pushing them over my hips and taking my panties down with them. His fingernails grazed my outer thighs as he knelt before me.
When I was completely nude, he released a pent-up breath and I felt his gaze roll over my well-fleshed haunches, dip into the curve of my waist, and over my full breasts. He ran his hands over my skin, his calloused fingers exploring and getting acquainted.
“Jesus Christ, Eva, I just want to sink my teeth into your flesh.” He followed through with his words by taking a nip at my waist just beside my navel. I tried to move to step out of my pants, now bunched around my ankles, but he stopped me, placing his nose into my muff and inhaling deeply.
“Mmm, I could eat you,” he sighed.
Warm then cool streams of air touched my damp loins as his tongue worked its way through to sample my taste. “Yes,” he breathed. “I am definitely going to eat you.”
That was when I finally understood what was meant when someone said: Eat me. My knees buckled at the thought and I fell, spread eagle, onto the mattress. Before I could react, Casey had cupped my bottom in both his hands to bring my dripping wet pussy to his lips. Muscles I didn’t know existed started to tremble and shake. I couldn’t tell which was more arousing; his moans or the sounds he made as he licked. My hips moved of their own volition, grinding into his face.
As I lay there, I was silently marveling at what was being done to me. This was just like a scene in Dominique Vachel’s Love Comes Like Thunder when Anabelle finally succumbs to Stone’s advances as they sailed the high seas. I probably should have felt awkward at that moment. In comparison to all my friends and family, I was the “over-developed” one. But the pleased look in Casey’s eyes and his enthusiasm as he caressed me got me thinking that maybe being “over-developed” wasn’t half bad.
“Yes, baby, yes,” he murmured into me, making me hotter. His tongue licked lower until it reached the puckered ring of skin guarding hidden depths. Never did I expect such a move. Dominique Vachel, Dixie Browning, or even good ol’ Babs Cartland never mentioned anything like that before. But it felt so good I wanted him to use me as he wanted.
“Oh my god, Casey,” I whimpered, head thrashing from side to side. I gripped the sheets as his tongue pushed the tight ring apart. His tongue entered like a slice of peach, slippery with its own syrup as it swirled and tasted. I tried to say his name but couldn’t articulate. He noticed my distress and raised his head.
“What is it, babe? Are you ready for it, sugar?”
I could only nod. He let my legs and hips fall to the mattress and moved between my thighs.
“Wait!” I cried.
Casey froze; his blue eyes seemed black with desire. I pointed to his cock and he blinked in recollection.
Somehow I wasn’t surprised to learn that he kept condoms tucked between his mattresses. When everything was in place, he pushed his giant cock down between us. He saw me brace myself because suddenly he asked, “Virgin?”
I nodded and he smiled softly down at me. Then he leaned forward to kiss me. At first, I was reluctant to have anything to do with his lips considering where they’d just been, but at the first poke of that thick pole, my lips and my reluctance parted. My entrance slowly spread apart to allow him access with my juices priming the way. He filled me, stuffed me, and I clung to him, wanting him to protect me from the pain he was causing me. Soon I was rising to meet his thrusts.
Casey effectively blasted away any hint of my virginity. Pushing up, he watched my face as he pulled out until only the mushroom head of his cock was inside me before surging in to the hilt. He did this slowly several times and with such smoothness, I closed my eyes and envisioned our bodies working together like a well-oiled machine. His cock was the steel piston moving back and forth into my yielding cylinder of flesh.
“You like that, baby?” he whispered breathlessly and I sighed with gratification. For the first time, I got the surge of passion that I had only read about in the books. My insides were hot, liquid, giving me a fluidity of motion I never knew I had as I rose to grind our pelvises together.
“You’re so tight,” he sighed and his words make me open my eyes to see his neck corded from the strain. I gave a tentative squeeze with my inner muscles and he cried out. Did I hurt him? Apparently not, because he doubled his force, gritting his teeth. “Damn it, Eva, you feel so good.”
His words awakened the butterflies in my stomach, making me gasp. I could only guess what it felt like for him to impale me on his cock. I opened my le
gs wider to draw him deeper, pulling him onto me, his breath hot against my ear. I hid my face into the curve of his neck, relishing the sensation of his cock stirring my insides. Our moans filled the room.
Sometime later, his body tensed and his moving inside me ceased. He pulled all the way out. I freaked. “Casey? What—what did I do?”
“Nothing, sugar,” he sighed, sitting back on his heels. “I just don’t want to come yet.”
He sat up and that’s when I saw my maiden’s blood in cherry red smears on his lower torso. He clambered to his feet and went into the bathroom leaving me rubbing my belly to soothe the pain. That was it. I could now call myself a woman.
I grinned.
Over the sound of running water, I heard him remove the condom and throw it into the trash. He returned wiping his firm stomach and his still-erect cock with a damp towel. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, I felt like a baby as he wiped me between my thighs, the towel cooling my burning skin. I was treated to the sight of his muscled biceps working as his fingers clenched around the back of my knee as he lifted me up to wipe between my bottom. I laughed. “At least you’re thorough.”
He smiled and put on a fresh condom, which made me panic for a moment. I wasn’t expecting a second round. Was that normal? Stretching his long body behind me, his left leg went over my hips. I melted in his embrace as he kissed my ear.
“Your skin’s so soft,” he cooed, nuzzling my neck. Feeling his smile against my cheek made me grin as he reached between my legs. My body relaxed. I was spent, already enjoying the afterglow, but Casey had more in store. Soon his two fingers were rubbing on either side of my clit before dipping inside. I heard my juices bubble and moaned helplessly at this delicious torment.
“Do you know how sweet you are?” he breathed into my ear. I shook my head and he removed his fingers from me. “Here. Taste.”
I had never given consideration to such a thought until he made the offer. Reluctantly, I took his fingers, glossed with my clear liqueur, into my mouth and sucked. I tasted tart, but sweet. He continued to kiss my neck as I licked each digit clean, pretending his meaty fingers to be miniatures of his cock.
And so began my finger fetish.
As I sucked his fingers, we rocked back and forth. This served to get us hot and bothered once more. His penis, which never completely went limp, came back to life, turning into a living piece of granite against my back. I put my leg over his to feel his prick to rub against my pussy. My body trembled and he groaned from deep within his chest.
“God damn it, Evadne, I want to slam this inside you till you explode!”
My reply was incoherent. Since he extracted himself from me, all I craved was for him to fill me up again. I was overflowing. My juices had even seeped down the folds of my nether lips and tickled the rosebud ring making it moist. The ring relaxed and opened to accept a drink. Casey’s throbbing shaft made a cautious jab from behind into my still-tender pussy and I cried out.
He must’ve sensed my body tense for he kissed my cheek and whispered, “Evadne . . . shhh . . . trust me.” He embraced me tighter. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d never hurt you.” He kissed me again. We continued to rock as he repeated the words like a mantra, “I’d never hurt you.”
I was determined to endure the searing pain and transferred my discomfort by biting his fingers. He tightened his grip. “It’s OK,” he soothed as I bit. “Just let it happen, baby doll.” Finally, he rolled on top of me and began to move. We saw ourselves in the mirror beside the bed. Our eyes met and I stopped biting. He kissed my shoulder.
Gritting my teeth, my mind exploded and with a sudden burst of strength I pushed up, taking him with me. Casey made a sound of surprise, not realizing he had turned my body into a live wire, a source of energy capable of doing major damage to anything that came near. We continued to watch our mirror images mate like a pair of rutting animals. I could remember thinking that one day I would write my own romance novel because Casey was putting moves on me that no Blake, Conrad, or Lord Uppington had ever attempted to put on any Jane, Beatrice, or Lady Breedwell in most of the books I’d read.
First sexual experience or not, I could not have cared less about being dainty and subdued. I knew I would regret it in the morning but figured, damn, if it’s gonna hurt—make it fucking hurt. I felt so full, stuffed beyond capacity, but I continued to slam against him. Yet later, I would chastise myself for behaving more like a Jackie Collins heroine and be too embarrassed to allow myself to remember what took place. But that was later. I bucked against him and his pole embedded itself a few inches deeper. I cried out, more a growl, really.
“That’s my girl!” Casey took my hair in his hands like reins and began jockeying me like a pro, pacing me to the finish. He bent over and whispered in my ear. “I’m gonna call you Black Beauty from now on.”
If I had taken that moment to look into the mirror beside the bed, I probably did look like a Derby contender with my eyes rolled back into my head and strange sounds emitting from my throat. I was in the zone.
“Oh, yes, please,” I moaned.
He continued to pummel away. Sweat glistened on our bodies as he bored deeper, every thrust vibrating inside my body. I turned my head for a kiss and once again his tongue plunged far down my throat. The simultaneous sensation of both my mouth and my pussy being filled made me quiver. Then he wrapped one arm around my waist and held me in place as he gave me a stroke so hard, so forceful, I thought he’d punctured my heart. Somewhere deep inside, my core melted and a tidal wave poured forth. Casey didn’t hold back his excitement this time and we came together, holding onto each other as we crashed to earth.
My arms gave way and we collapsed, spent, catching our breath. He had to hold me tight as aftershocks wracked my body. I got one last sensation as he pulled out of me. Then he rolled me over and squeezed me tight. I looked up at him. He was so gorgeous with his golden hair plastered from sweat. His eyes burned into mine. I suddenly thought about my girlfriends and their horror stories and pitied them. The look Casey gave me told me he was surprised too. I guess I hadn’t let him down considering my inexperience.
“Eva,” he sighed as his lips met mine.
* * *
We were slow getting out of bed and Casey suggested that I shower while he ordered Chinese food. Once refreshed, we would carry out my “revenge.”
We arrived at the grocery store parking lot just before midnight supplied with a funnel, a short length of tube, a five-pound bag of sugar, and a couple sticks of butter.
The staff parked in the back of the store so we made no attempt to hide. Casey recognized David Sheen’s precious 1986 Chrysler Laser Turbo XT. It wasn’t hard to find—it was parked far away from the others.
While Casey picked the lock on the gas tank and dumped in the sugar with the funnel and tube, I smeared all the windows with butter. Then with Casey’s switchblade, I flattened three of David’s tires.
As we drove away, we laughed like we were partners in crime from way back. But as I gave directions to my house, the closer we got, the quieter we got. We both knew the odds of us seeing each other again was less than zero. I wasn’t going to set foot inside that store again and my parents would be not be amused if they found out I was involved with a boy–a man–who had, coincidentally, just taken my virginity.
Pulling into my driveway, Casey reached into his pocket and produced a movie ticket stub. “I bought it while I waited for you to get off work. You may need it.”
Quickly, I got out of the car before I turned into a blubbering mess. Despite my “womanly” experience, all I wanted to do was cling to him and cry like a baby.
But I couldn’t cry, I was grown now.
He grabbed my wrist and kissed my hand tenderly. “Take care, Beauty.”
That did it. The water works started flowing and his lips turned up in a rueful smile before giving me a final salute and driving away.
* * *
The police came the next morning to question
me about a vandalized car at the grocery store. When it was revealed that I had quit my job the day before after an altercation with the car’s owner, they wanted to have a talk with me. Apparently someone saw a girl fitting my description at the scene last night.
But, once again, I believe that the officers assumed that a young woman from my privileged background, who had chosen to work in such a rough neighborhood during summer holidays, would never be foolish enough to get caught doing something so irresponsible.
They were right. I was too smart . . . to get caught.
Besides, I had an alibi with my ticket stub.
In the end, my first sexual experience didn’t take place on a canopied bed or in a posh hotel like I’d always dreamed. Casey wasn’t a sophisticated man of means and he hadn’t defied death for me. But, despite all this, and in our own juvenile way, Casey did defend my honor.
From that moment on, and until I met Jared years later, I compared my experience with Casey to the other boys—men—that were to follow—and there was no comparison.
I consider myself very lucky. My first live partner started a trend for my sexual tastes that follows me to this day. Sometimes I compare my sex life to that of a major league baseball game.
And Casey Weller was the first one to give me a grand slam.
Read what happens to Eva next in -
When life imitates art ... expect to be framed.
Available at: Logical-Lust.com, Amazon.com, BN.com Amazon.co.uk
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Mocha’s Erotic Reviews –
“I give this book a GUSHING KITTY KAT rating. The sex scenes in this makes you wonder what the author and her husband do!!!”
Erotica Revealed - 2 thumbs up!
"All that I’m going to say is, if you get a kick out of passionate character interplay, breath-taking realism and well-written prose, then you should find Messalina, Devourer of Men to be a hugely entertaining and enjoyable read."
