by Starla Cole
They pulled up to a duplex, a little on the shabby side, but respectable enough. Anthony jumped from his car, rushing to open her door. “It’s probably messy. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
Syria got out of her car. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“I have a roommate, but he’s off visiting his parents in Arkansas. I’ll blame anything embarrassing on him.”
Syria laughed. “Sounds like a plan.”
He took her hand to lead her up the path, but the wind decided to gust. Syria tried to catch her skirt, but with her purse in one hand and the other in Anthony’s, it got away from her.
His jaw dropped. “Did I just see —” He decided not to say anything else, but spun her around so her back was against the car. He pressed against her, his mouth seeking hers. She could feel his erection pressing against her thighs. That had been easy. She had no frame of reference for size, although she knew bigger was supposedly better. In her case, maybe something smaller might be better for the task. She didn’t know if she should tell him she was a virgin, if that would freak him out or if he’d be more careful.
He deepened his kiss and her thoughts erased. His hands slid down her arms and moved to her waist, squeezing her. His thumbs grazed against the bottom of her breasts and she sucked in a breath. Everything was so intense. She didn’t see how she could contain it all.
Anthony reached down, past her hips, gathering up the material to her skirt and lifting it up. When his hand grazed her bare thigh, she jumped. “I thought I saw something,” he whispered.
His fingers traveled up and up, shifting toward the middle.
Syria thought she would die if he didn’t touch her soon, feeling frantic and needy. She hadn’t masturbated much, even though she’d tried. It didn’t do anything for her but make her feel silly. She should have read up on it, or something. She didn’t know what she was missing, really, and even though a book or movie might make her feel hot and tingly, she hadn’t been sure what to do about it. It just hadn’t come naturally to her.
But Anthony’s hand traveling there was like fire. He reached the puff of hair and smiled against her mouth. “Syria, you surprise me constantly. You act so innocent, but then you do something crazy.”
His finger delved into her folds, and Syria thought she’d collapse. Her legs turned to ash, and she had to hold on to Anthony’s shoulders. He stroked her, first diving deeply in, then seeming to seek something, opening her so wide that the cool air hit her skin in places she’d never thought would be exposed to the night.
Then he found what he was looking for and began to work it harder. Pleasure splintered through Syria and she heard herself cry out. She wanted to be embarrassed but it was too much, moving so fast. She was spiraling up, and needed more and more. She didn’t want to be outside anymore, standing by his car, but somewhere that she could focus on this, understand it, see where it led.
She kissed him harder. “Can we go in?”
He released her and she sagged in relief, still holding on to him. “Yes,” he said, tugging keys from his pocket and leading her to the porch.
Then they were inside, his place smelling of stale pizza and dust, but she didn’t care. She hoped he’d take her straight to his bed. “Where is your room?” she asked.
“Through here.” They went down the dimly lit hall but when he reached for the bedroom overhead light switch, she stopped him. “Do you have something less harsh?”
He nodded and hunted around in a corner, working by the light from the hall. She could make out a cluster of stands, and he powered on a big black box. A studio flash, and the diffused light from the front panel gave the room a soft glow. “That good?” he asked.
“Perfect.” She set her purse on the floor, nervous now that she was here. Still so many hurdles. Her virginity. Condoms. Fear curdled in her belly. Her mother had gotten pregnant by a stranger. It was the one thing she had really impressed upon Syria, taking care of that, never falling for lies.
“I’m not on the pill or anything,” she blurted.
Anthony came back to her and grasped her elbow. “I’ll take care of it.”
One thing down. Syria exhaled. “There’s one other thing.”
He pulled her into an embrace, tucking her head against his shoulder. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just be here until morning, and then see if you still want to do the shoot.”
“I know. I just wanted to tell you that I am a virgin.”
Anthony’s breath rushed out. “Wow.”
Crap, now he was freaked out. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s got to go eventually, right? I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
He continued to hold on to her, his breath warm against her neck. She wondered if he still wanted her, but at least she could tell THAT. She shifted a little so her hips were more firmly nestled against his pelvis.
Oh yes. She could feel it.
He sucked in a breath, as if he knew she’d made that contact on purpose. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more, to try touching him, or to get him to touch her again. Well, he had started things. She could make the next move.
Syria snaked her hand between them, pressing her palm against the long bulge. He was angled to one side, trapped in the khaki pants. That couldn’t be comfortable. She reached for his belt, trying not to let her jangling nerves slow her down. “May I?” she asked him this time.
He nodded against her hair.
She tugged the leather strip out and pulled on the buckle. Rather than just leave it hanging there, she slid it, slowly and leisurely, out of all the loops.
Now his knees bent a little, and she smiled to herself. The belt hit the floor behind them and she reached for the button, tugging it loose. His zipper broke the silence of the room and his breathing sped up a notch.
Syria wasn’t sure what to do next, pull his pants down where they’d get caught on his shoes, or just reach for him? After a hesitation, she peeled the front of his pants away and grasped the elastic band of his boxers.
It didn’t take much to release him, long and lean and now pointing straight up. She couldn’t see a lot in the dim light, but the end glistened. She formed a circle with her fingers and thumb and surrounded him, trying to decide how tight was too tight to hold on.
The skin actually moved, surprising her. She’d expected it to all be, well, attached. He groaned a little, so she repeated the movement, now alternating between tighter and looser grips. “Syria,” he whispered. “I need you in my bed.”
He pushed down his pants and kicked off his shoes. Syria released him, watching him undress without any shyness. His chest was lean, light muscles leading to nice hard arms with decent girth. His belly was flat with just a tiny amount of hair near the bottom as it led down.
Syria swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched the boxers come off and she could see clearly what she’d been touching before. She’d seen diagrams in sex ed, and the occasional random porn shot on the internet. But the real thing, up close and personal, was so different.
Anthony got the pants and boxers off and away and stood there a moment, watching her. She was fascinated by his body, by all the things she could explore. She reached for him again, continuing the grasp on him that he had liked. What would it be like to do the same thing with her mouth? Was that too much? Would that make her a slut?
She didn’t care. She wanted to do it and she would. It’s not like Anthony was in her circles. He knew her name but not her phone number or where she lived, or anything about her. She could walk away if need be. Tonight she’d do whatever the hell came into her head. She knelt in front of him and slid her lips where only her hands had been.
He responded immediately, sucking in a gulp of air and then groaning as she made her way down. He was sticky and fleshy, both sweet and tangy, not like anything she’d ever tasted. But she liked it, especially when she tightened her lips and he grasped her hair, his knees bending.
The bed was close, so she pushed him toward it, breaking away only for a moment t
o let him fall back, naked on his bed, while she was fully clothed. This felt powerful, as though this were her moment, and only she got to do what she wanted.
She bent down and brought him back into her mouth, letting her hands go everywhere, his chest and arms and belly and hips. She grasped the bottom part of his shaft that she couldn’t get to with her mouth, and cupped the soft round balls beneath it.
Syria couldn’t stop herself now that the dam had burst. She wanted everything, to do it all, even the things she couldn’t quite fathom. She worked faster, sensing him creating a rhythm with her. The little veins began to twitch and then he pulled her away. “I want to last,” he said. “I want to be with you all night.”
The fire in her blasted all the way through her body, and she let him roll her over. Her shoes hit the floor and his hands were on her knees, pushing up that skirt. “I can’t believe you did this,” he said when he got her bare again, pressing his thumbs against her mound. “It’s so damn hot.”
He rose up on the bed, back to her face, and kissed her. Now lying down, their bodies in full contact, his skin hot beneath her hand, the kiss was much more, like a starter rather than something that stood on its own.
Anthony grasped at the spaghetti straps of her dress and pulled them down her shoulders. She hadn’t worn a bra, since the dress had built-in support, so when he peeled the bodice down, he freed her breasts. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Beautiful.” He lowered his head to capture a nipple in his mouth and so many sensations shot through Syria that she gasped and jerked upward on the bed.
His hands kept working on the dress, taking it to her waist, even as he moved from one breast to the other. Syria clasped his head, trying to hang on, overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. Her hips moved on their own, making a slow gyration against his waist. He broke away from her and pulled the dress the rest of the way off, and now she was as naked as him.
No one had seen her his way, not even her mother, not since she was small. He braced himself over her, just looking. Syria felt self conscious of her bony hips, the flare of her thighs, a couple nicks on her skin that bothered her, caused by crossing through barbed wire too many times when she was young.
“You’re amazing,” he said, his expression reverent. “God, I hope you let me photograph this tomorrow. I won’t let a soul see them other than me, I swear.”
Syria felt like parts of her were weeping, she was so wet. Anthony leaned down and kissed her belly button, then went down lower, like she had with him. Her legs opened without her consciously telling them to and then he was there, his mouth between her thighs, tongue flicking against her.
He slipped a finger inside and her head fell back. The two things at once caused something crazy to happen to her, something she’d gotten close to a time or two by rubbing herself, but never could quite reach.
Anthony felt her responding and sucked harder, drawing a bit of her into his mouth. This time, when he flicked his tongue across it, she knew something was happening, a strange intense feeling, like when you lift a box that is too heavy and you’re straining. It built up between his fingers and his mouth, rising, tightening, and now her hands were grasping fists full of the sheets. Her calf tried to cramp so she shifted it down, hoping she didn’t move Anthony, because now something was really starting to go.
Then she was over the top, across the rise, and instead of everything being tight and intense, it all came loose, pulsing, cascading. She could feel the muscles contracting against Anthony’s face. Holy crap, this was an orgasm. She’d just had one!
The room seemed filled with tiny spots of light. Her head was rushing even as Anthony slowed down, knowing, she guessed, that this had happened. Her body relaxed against the bed and she stared at the dim ceiling. Wow wow wow wow!
She wanted to laugh. How could they do it again? Syria pulled Anthony up closer to her. “Oh my God! You did that!” Now giggles did burst out of her. “That was unbelievable!”
Anthony grinned. “I live to serve.”
Syria held on to his jaw, looking into the shadows of his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
He braced himself over her and began grinding against her thighs. She opened for him and he rested against her, the head of him just touching her folds. There was more! Of course there was. Her heart hammered as he played on the edge, just barely pushing in. He wouldn’t forget the condom!
He reached down and slid against her, slippery and wet. She relaxed, getting used to the feel of him moving from outside to in. When her breathing had gotten faster again, he pulled away and reached beside the bed to a little table. She heard a tearing sound and relaxed. He was taking care of it.
She watched him unroll the circle along his length until he leaned over her again.
“You sure? It might be a little uncomfortable.”
Syria had read it could hurt, and she could bleed. “Your sheets!”
“Don’t worry about it. They’re washable.”
She lay back, more tense now. “I want to.”
He pressed against her again, sliding just like he had before. Syria had a harder time relaxing this time, though, anticipating the pain.
Anthony pressed against her and now he was really in, pushing gently, taking his time. “You okay?”
She nodded, her hands on his back, holding on. He pulled out partway, then lowered in again, this time just a touch more. “I can feel the resistance,” he said.
“I can too.”
“Not too late.”
Syria pushed on his back, encouraging him to go farther in. She wondered if it were better to do it like a bandaid, and just go for it, or to take it slow.
“Take the plunge,” she said, readying for the shock, like jumping into a lake before the water warmed up for summer. “I can take it.”
Anthony pulled back one more time, then thrust with more force. Syria felt something give way with a sharp pinch that make her suck in.
Anthony instantly stopped. “You all right?”
“Just keep going. I think it’s better if we work through it.”
He rolled out and in again, and this time the ache was more dull. Syria relaxed a little and found that this helped immensely. He went in and out a few more times, and now she could handle it fine. “It’s okay now,” she said.
Anthony pressed down on her, kissing her forehead. “You are amazing.”
He moved over her, his eyebrows drawn together. Syria like what they were doing, but it was nothing like when he’d touched her. His movements got faster, and the muscles in his arms tightened. He switched to one arm and now his fingers found that magical spot, the one he’d worked with his tongue.
Syria really engaged then, pleasure bursting in every direction. She didn’t think she’d orgasm again, not in time, but this was way better, and now she got it, she knew whey people did this, why it was so addictive. Anthony’s body stiffened and he held his position, his breath coming out in one long exhale that ended in a shuddering groan. Syria gripped his back and waited, loving that she’d done this for him, make him feel like he had done for her.
He relaxed on her body, face buried against her neck. She felt swollen around him and a little sore, but she couldn’t wait for them to try it again.
Anthony rolled on his back and pulled her up against him. “This has been the luckiest day of my life,” he said.
Syria snuggled her face against his neck, remembering the day had begun with her getting kicked out of the phlebotomy program, and that she had nowhere to go next. “Mine too.”
4: Grass, revisited
