Cherry Poppin'


Anonymous

His Story
We are both in grade 11. She’s seventeen with a tiny waist, small breasts and straight red hair. I’m thin but not skinny, boyish and quixotic. Her mom is upstairs and her dad is out rehearsing for the school musical. Mom might open the noisy door at the top of the stairs, Dad might come home, but neither will descend to the basement rec room without plenty of stalling and clomping around. They’re smart parents (or stupid depending on your perspective).

She’s wearing a funny one piece T-shirt that reaches to her knees, no bra, and crescent-moon earrings. Ignoring the sitcom but with alert ears, we neck until my hand gets under her tee to pull at her panties. To my surprise she lays back, lifts her bum, and pulls her panties down, and kicks them to the end of the brown corduroy couch.

It is the greatest moment of my young life.

My pants come off. My boxers are half way down. She's wet. It's not difficult or embarrassing. It's easy and glorious.

It lasts an amazing fifteen minutes! Fifteen minutes of ultra-awareness and sensual greed. Fifteen long minutes of mesmerizing nakedness that will be replayed endlessly in my mind's eye. Well, fifteen minutes, if measured by the feeling of time passing. But when measured by a more objective device, say the grey plastic Swatch on my wrist, it’s actually something like 70 seconds.

I am so drunk with satisfaction that I jump up, "Excuse me, I've just got to do this,” and leap in the air, right fist pumping. Smiling a ten foot smile, boxers tenting in front, wearing only my shirt and socks I look down at her lying there half amused, half naked, utterly adorable like she never will be again.

She is lithe and beautiful; I don't yet know we will have more great sex. I don't yet know that she will break my heart with my best friend, killing both relationships in one fell fuck. I know only that she is soft, and sweet, and smiling, with cute little breasts and dull red hair. Of course, her parents finally fumble with the door at the top of the stairs and we scurry like guilty mice into the ‘just watching TV’ position excited, guilty, and elated.
Her Story
It was a dark and stormy night. My parents had gone into the city. I was home alone. The snowflakes glistened in the moonlight. I heard the snow crackle and crunch under the tires of D's father's pickup.

He brought a bottle of sparkling white Bianca. It was going to be a classy evening. We lit the fireplace and sipped our wine. I had been waiting for this night for a long time. My friends and I read Cosmo and Teen; one friend even got some of her brother's porn videos. Between screams of excitement and laughter we discussed every juicy detail.

I had it all planned. We was going to put Frisco and Felicia from General Hospital to shame. I would see sparks flying and stars twinkling. After tonight I would be in a new club – no longer a virgin. I would become woman, a seductress.

The build-up was intolerable. My skin tingled. I had butterflies in my stomach. I was ready. I saw D through Bianca-misted eyes. He was ready too. I closed my eyes and puckered up.

He kissed me—tongue and everything! Even after all our previous make-out occasions his hands still couldn't find the secret key to the magic lock of my bra. After a few snaps and tugs it finally came off and his hungry hands groped and kneaded. I reciprocated. I finally got to see it! It was pink and hard and throbbing! My nerves were getting to me. I was a bit grossed out. We fumbled with the condom. "God I hope he knows what to do with it," I thought. (More fumbling). Is it on? Quickly into the missionary position. This is it!!!

Was that it? Not only was it over with inexplicable speed but by the time I began to revel in my moment of non-virgindom he was already snoring.