First Times: Nine Tales of Innocence Lost (5 page)

“Now,” he said. “Now I leave you to this, and if you touch yourself you will be punished.”
 

“Don’t go,” I squeaked, aghast at my own voice. “Don’t leave me this way.”
 

He leaned over me. “What do you want?”
 

“Make me cum,” I croaked, desperate to touch myself, to end this sweet torture.
 

He grabbed my chin and made me face him. “You will bear my children. Do you understand? That is why I brought you here. To willingly accept my seed.”
 

My head swirled. Did he mean what I thought he meant? I didn’t care.
 

“Do it.”
 

“Say the magic word.”
 

“Please.”
 

He pushed me down, stood up, and began to disrobe. I had seen the male body before, but he was a flawless specimen, everywhere sculpted and perfected, and soon he was down to silk boxers. Beyond that, I had never seen. Never seen a fully naked man, never seen a cock. When I set eyes on his erection a wave of fear rolled through me. As it sprung free and he stood up. The size shocked me. I knew the details of course, but he was going to put
that
inside me? It was too big, I would never be able to take it all. Then he bent and took me by the arms, and turned me so I lay on my back, spread across the narrow bed. Moving over me, his weight pushed the mattress down. He knelt over me, straddling me, his cock jutting out proudly over my chest.
 

Leaning down, he took my wrists and lifted my arms so my hands rested next to my head. Then he dove in, his lips hot against my throat, grasping and sucking, his teeth sudden and sharp on my skin, drawing yet more gasps. He worked his way down over my breasts, tracing hot trails of soft wet kisses on my tender skin before he took my nipple in his mouth and sucked, hard. I sucked in a breath through my bit lip and closed my eyes. A chill ran through me as his cock brushed my belly.
 

He lowered himself on top of me, pressing me down into the bed with his weight. His hands fell on my arms, slid up, and grasped my wrists, holding me still as his face filled my vision.
 

“Look at me. Let me see the look in your eyes. No matter what, keep your eyes open.”
 

I felt his cock against my leg, sliding, and then suddenly the heat of it pressed against my entrance. I was so wet that when he grunted and flexed his perfect body his cock entered me, the bulbous head spreading me open easily, at first. Then the pain came, quick and sharp, and I squirmed and yelped as his cock sank yet deeper into my body, but I kept my eyes open.

“It hurts,” I whimpered.
 

He slowed.
 

“Shhh. It’s all right. It’ll be better.”
 

He kissed me softly, warm lips resting on mine, but kept his eyes open, and so did I. The feeling of his rod sliding into my tight channel was not so painful now, but there was still a burn to it as my slippery walls opened around this thick invader, a warm fullness spreading through me. It wasn’t so bad, after all. It began to feel good as he lay on top of me and slowly, slowly, slowly pressed himself in until he was buried to the root, and went still. I tried to turn but he trapped me with kisses, making my stomach flutter, an odd sensation as I felt full of his manhood. Only then did he slowly begin to pump, and my legs spread and lifted around him, grasping his hips. My thighs were slick and hot, even as I hooked my calves around his legs. He went from holding my wrists to holding my hands, his fingers twined through mine. Every time a jolt of pleasure or pain jerked through me, my hands tightened around his. Strong hands, implacable hands.
 

His gentleness shocked me, but what shocked me more was the animal grunt and the sudden rush as he began to pump faster, and squeezed my arms harder. He pressed his forehead to mine and ground against me, driving me into the bed with his long, hard thrusts. I writhed under him, sliding against his body, slick with sweat, as his mouth found my throat again and he grunted and snarled and pressed harder and harder with every thrust. Driven into a frenzy by his cock, I arched under him and cried out, a tingling, pressing feeling rolling through my body as my nerves all came alive at once. I was swept away on a current of pleasure, a passenger in my own body as warm pulses spread through me, laced with cold, jolting shocks, more and more every second, every thrust. He grunted and arched up, pressing me down, lifting from me and grimacing as he climaxed inside me, spilling his seed deep within.
 

As he reached his peak mine exploded through me, sending me into a writhing frenzy followed by a sudden, total calm as I flopped still on the bed in a puddle of my own sweat, totally spent. He drew out of me slowly and stood up, clenching his well-shaped legs to conceal the trembling in his muscles as he steadied himself. His cock was wet from me, hanging between his legs. I lay there breathing slowly and staring at him. He reached down and traced his rough fingertips over my stomach and around my nipples, and then closed his hand around my throat, until I could feel my own pulse beating against his fingers. I remained stock still as he caressed my jaw with his thumb, and let go.
 

“I give you permission to cleanse yourself, but you will not bathe until I tell you. I want my scent on you for a while longer.”
 

“Yes,” I nodded, then curled up on the bed. “May I dress, now?”
 

“No. You will eat lunch and dinner with me, nude. Then I will allow you to bathe. If you please me when I fuck you again tonight, I will give you a nice warm bath, and clothes to wear.”
 

He gave me a caress, running his fingers through my hair.
 

“Perfect. Beautiful. Quite an investment, I must say.”
 

“Thank you.”
 

“Rest, now. If I am going to breed you, we must couple many times, until I know you’re quickened. Sleep.”
 

I drifted off as he left me, clothes folded on one arm, and flicked out the light. I fingered my collar. Not so bad, now.

Not so bad at all.
 

Mercy

I wasn’t supposed to be in the field house.
 

My college isn’t a very big school. Nobody from any of the teams goes pro, and the football stadium is really just a field and bleachers, modest even by high school standards. The field house doubles as the school’s athletic center, so at one point or another all of the intra- and extramural sports teams move through the building, even using the same locker rooms. I was on the women’s swim team, and I went swimming whenever I could. The center was open to all students on Saturdays, though the football field was off limits during practice. As I went in that afternoon I stopped to watch them at practice, staring at the commotion through the chain link fence. I don’t know much about the game, or really care for it all that much, but it was in interesting to watch all the motion and hear the panting and grunts. Some of the players spotted me. I watched them pull their helmets off and gesture towards me. I waved, and shrugged.
 

After I changed into my bathing suit, I dove into the water and began doing laps up and down my lane.
 

Swimming has always been my freedom. There’s a subtle flight or flight response to being immersed in water that never quite goes away and helps to crowd the rest of the world out. My world became the steady motion of my arms and legs, my head rising out of the water and dunking back under, tapping the wall, turning, and kicking off to move faster from one end to the other. I went all out until I was exhausted and could barely climb out of the water and wander over to flop down into a deck chair and push my goggles up onto my forehead. I kept my eyes closed to keep the bright overhead lights out of them and lay there struggling to get my wind, forcing my breathing even. After a while, when I was mostly dry and the burning in my arms and legs had faded to a dull ache, I went back to the pool and dove in.
 

I crashed through the water, backed against the wall and pushed off, and started swimming again. I rolled over and worked on my back stroke for a while, until I tired from that and just swam all out, trying to beat my own speed. There was a lot on my mind and I wanted it gone for a while. Midterms were coming up, I had projects due, all the usual pressures. I just needed to be free. The swimming gave me that, and I kept going until I thought I was going to cramp. I crawled out of the water and caught my breath on my hands and knees for a while, then got up and went back to the deck chair and flopped down on my towel. I was exhausted, heaving for breath, too tired to keep my eyes open. I glanced at the clock. The staff left at five and locked up, but it was only three, so I could lay there for a while.
 

My eyes drifted shut. The big overhead lights hurt my eyes. I pulled my goggles off and let them dangle from one hand, hanging from the arm of the chair. I heard a soft clacking sound as I lost my grip and they tapped on the floor, just before I drifted off into the dark.
 

When I woke up, I was curled up in the chair, turned on my side. My hair was stuck to my head, all frazzled from letting the pool water dry from it, and I stank of chlorine. I yawned and twisted in the chair and got up, my aching muscles protesting. I glanced at the clock. It was after five, which meant they just let me lay there while everyone left. The lights were out but there was enough sun coming through the skylights to see by. I started stretching, my hamstrings first, to get the ache out. I should have stretched before and after the swim but in my own way I was terribly lazy. I tried to tame my unruly hair and yawned loudly, still tired. I heard something in the distance and had a sudden feeling I was being watched. Shaking my head, I dismissed the notion. It was nothing, I assured myself, water dripping or the old building creaking.
 

Yawning, I threw my towel over my shoulder and headed into the locker room. Once inside I patted myself down, as if I had pockets, and realized I was missing the key to my padlock. Sighing, I laid the towel on the wooden bench and padded back out to the pool, and started looking around. A glint of light on metal caught my eye and I turned.
 

He must have been one of the football players. He was six feet tall if he was an inch, and dressed only in a towel, and he was twirling the lanyard the held my key on one finger, sending it spinning in slow circles that caught the sun and sent out flashes of light, like a beacon. I strode over and reached out.
 

“That’s mine,” I said.
 

The player danced back, swinging in the key out of my reach. For a man dressed in a towel, he was surprisingly quick on his feet. I stepped forward, sighing as I realized he was playing a game of keep away. I squared up my five foot four inch self, planted my fists on my hips, and looked up at him. I spoke in my best aspiring teacher voice.
 

“I’d like my key back, please.”
 

He leaned on the door fame, still twirling the key, and grinned. “How do I know it’s yours?”
 

“Who else would it be,” I said.
 

“What are you doing here? It’s after hours. Players only.”
 

I sighed. “I fell asleep, and the jerk lifeguard left me laying there.” I gave a little shrug. “Sorry.”
 

He was eyeing me, hard, his eyes moving up and down my body. The slick one piece racing suit I wore was both modest and revealing, somehow at the same time. It covered me to the neck, at least in the front, but the way it rode up from my crotch made me acutely aware of my bare legs. The suit flatted me out, which wasn’t hard, since I was lean to begin with, but he was drinking in the sight all the same, focusing especially on my legs, looking at my hips, trying to see around back to the swell of my butt. I folded my arms over my chest and scowled.
 

“I want to go home,” I said. “Can I have my key now?”
 

He nodded his head from side to side in mock contemplation. “It’s not a nice neighborhood,” he said. “It wouldn’t be very nice of us to let you walk home unescorted. Why don’t you wait around for a while? We’re just changing.”
 

“Key,” I said, holding out my palm.
 

He danced back, moving into the hall.
 

“Come get it,” he said, grinning, then ran.
 

His towel came loose and he grabbed it in his other hand, whooping. Seeing red, I charged down the hall after his bare ass. For all my exercise my legs were shorter, and I fell behind in the sprint, and had to slow or slip on my bare heels as I made the turn into the locker room. I skidded to a stop when I realized had just barged into a room full of men in various states of undress, at least half of them completely naked. I stood there quivering like a leaf, trying to look at nothing and figure out what I was going to do. I started to back away, only to tap against one of the players standing behind me, blocking the exit. The top of my head barely came up to his chest.
 

“What are you doing in here?” he said.
 

“My key,” I blurted. “He took my locker key.”
 

“Who?”
 

I shivered. “I don’t know his name. I left it by the pool…”
 

“Shoulda’ checked the lost and found,” another said, moving up behind me.
 

I was surrounded now, eyeing the door. Panic flowed up my spine and spread into my chest, and the player blocking the door licked his lips. Suddenly I was trying to decide if I wanted to stay here and try to get the key back or walk home barefoot in a bathing suit and hope my roommate would buzz me in to the dorm. I looked around, counting and measuring up. There were eleven of them in the room, now all standing to look at me. A good number of them were naked, and I flicked my eyes up to the ceiling, the sight of all those cocks making me squirm with agonized embarrassment.