Sex After the First Date: A Different Perspective [M/F]

Hello, r/gonewildstories! This is my first time to even go near reddit, and will probably be my last. According to the owner of this account, a couple of you know who I am already. However, I’d like to take a moment to introduce myself:

My name is Mark. My dad was born in Hiroshima and my mom was born in Jersey. I’m 19 (20 in a month), I’m a little over six feet tall, I play soccer every other day with my buddies, and I want to be a surgeon like my mom and dad. I have five older brothers—Xander (30), Gideon (28), Stephen (27), Matthew (24) and Timothy (22); I also have one younger sister: Kiyomi (17).

If you’re wondering what I look like, I’d say I’m your average mixed race guy. Some people think I’m gorgeous and some people think I look like a hand with two thumbs on either side, but to be more specific, I’ve got Asian coloring with tanner skin, slightly rounder eyes, and bone structure that’s more angular than necessary. I workout regularly, I eat right, I don’t drink (much) or do drugs. As for the big question: 8.5 inches. (Yes, pun intended.)

Before I begin, I’ll say something real quickly: she can turn a fool into a poet. Don’t expect me to make jokes when it comes to her.

Let me go on to who this ‘her’ is—Sofie. Sofie told me that she was putting up our, well, sexcapades here on reddit after she posted the second or first one. I can verify that everything she’s been putting up regarding me is true—all the fun, banter, and talking, anyway. Sofie’s got a way of describing people. The more I read about me the more I want to fuck me. Like, I look in the mirror and I’m all, “Daaaammmnnn son, you lookin’ fine today,” then I think of the stories she writes and those thoughts quickly transition to, “I’d ride me. Wait what.”

Back to my point: After having some fun with each other, she asked me if I could type up what just happened.

“It’s not because I’m lazy, it’s just that someone asked for your perspective on things,” she said.

“This is the most important I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m ready.”

Sofie slapped her hand on her forehead for that. She’s adorable.

“One condition,” I told her. “You can’t read it, you can’t edit it, you can’t even look at it.”

She frowned at me. “Do you honestly think some little warning is going to stop me from going through a post on my account?”

“I’ll take you to Finding Dory if you do it.”

“Deal.” She’d answered too quickly. As soon as Sofie had said it, she covered her mouth with both her hands in shock, eyes widening with anger and surprise. “Fuck.”

I kissed her on the forehead. Pillow talk followed, with her resting her head on my chest and me holding her in the crook of my elbow. Her hair always smelled good and her skin always tasted good. Sofie didn’t do herself justice the last time she described herself; let me fix that for you:

The first time I saw her, I thought she was cute. More cute than pretty at first – Sofie looks young. If I wasn’t paying attention, I would have overlooked her and thought she was just another girl. She’s got dark hair, brown eyes, light skin. Her face is pretty round because of her cheeks, which she always complains about. She says, “No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of them!” But when she smiles her face forms a heart, pink lips arching up to show teeth that never needed braces to be fixed, and her eyes—upturned and almost deep-set—light the same way night time does the second a first star twinkles to life. If I weren’t paying attention I never would have seen her smile, or seen her laugh. If I weren’t paying attention, I wouldn’t have noticed her body, either. She isn’t some sort of stick-thin child or uber-muscular athlete. Sofie’s pretty curvy. Her sides are handles for me to hold, her boobs aren’t the biggest, but they fit in my hands just right, and her ass is bounce, shape, circularity and firmness put together all in one. Thank god I paid attention.

This girl is my favorite day dream. Really, she is.

Onto the story proper. I can’t guarantee you’ll get off on this. This is my first time to write something that isn’t academic. I used to do some spoken word poetry, too; even competed a couple times and won, but I was never remarkable enough for anyone to think my poetry was worth sharing.

You could feel like fucking your dog or washing your eyes right after reading and I’d have absolutely no idea whatsoever, but I’ll do my best. Hope I don’t disappoint ya!

Just in case, I left a part there that says ‘wormhole refractor’ so you can scroll down and skip me trying to be as clever as Faust or as poetic as Whitman and get onto the fucking. Yay for fucking.

---

October 10, 2015, I had to get ready for a date. One of my friends set me up with a music major he thought would have been perfect for me. I told Sofie a week prior to the date and the we ended up scrolling through every single social media account this girl had to find out more about her.

Her name was Alexandra. Photo after photo showed a blonde, well-toned, tan girl who must have had perfect D-cup tits and legs that went on and on. She played soccer. She owned a dog. She dated a lot of guys. She enjoyed wearing jean shorts that barely covered her ass and tight tank tops that let her boobs spill right out through the chest area. She smiled through hooded eyes and wore heels like they were weapons.

Big woop.

“Damn,” Sofie said. We were lying down next to each other on her bed, me on my side, her on her stomach, looking through Alexandra's Facebook profile. “You are one lucky fucker, aren’t you?”

I looked at her then, sprawled on her stomach, dark hair a mess, glasses sitting on her nose (Sofie wears contacts – glasses are for when she’s too lazy to put them on). “She seems alright,” I said. “I’ve seen better – besides, blondes and I don’t mix well together. Genetics would either make something hella beautiful or a monstrosity unfit for human eyes.”

“Wonder why she asked J.J. to set you two up,” Sofie said, rolling onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling. “She is waaaayyyy out of your league.”

“I know, I know—hard to believe I’d ever go on a date with someone that hideous.”

Sofie laughed. When she laughs, her head always tilts to the side, her eyes squint up and her smile is New Year’s Eve. Every time she laughs, it’s hard to not stare at her. It’s hard to not stare at her no matter what she does. She’s beautiful. She’s fucking beautiful. I was at that point in liking someone where you’re close to giving up on your feelings for them, but with a laugh like that it was near impossible.

Fast forward to the day of the date. Alexandra wanted to get picked up at 7 from her sorority house, which was a good walk away from my dorm building. Being late wasn’t even an option with a girl like that. Even if she’d be coming down a good ten or twenty minutes after I’d get there, being late would only make me and every other guy I knew look bad. Do this for all guy-kind, Mark. Self-sacrifice is a virtue.

I’d just slipped into a pair of jeans after coming out of the shower. Charlie answered the door after a series of light taps on the wood. Sofie stood there in grey joggers and a white tank top, her hair a mess, her eyes bright.

“Evenin’, star shines!” she chirped.

Charlie looks at every girl with the intent to undress, undo, and unburden. Sofie seemed to be the only one that never got that kind of treatment from him. Charlie thought of her as a boy.

The second she looked at me, she frowned. “You can’t be serious about wearing those jeans.”

I looked down at myself. Sofie didn’t need to know that I didn’t even remember the last time I wore those jeans. “I’m not serious, I’m Mark.”

Sofie groaned. “You’re nineteen fucking years old, wait until you have an actual kid before you start making stupid dad jokes.”

She’s adorable when she’s irritated.

Sofie spent half an hour digging through my closet for a decent pair of jeans and a V-neck sweater. She drilled me on dating etiquette, on how to be a gentleman, and on how to break someone’s nose using the base of your hand in case that sort of event arose. Charlie left for a party with one of his on-and-off girlfriends and wouldn’t be coming back until late.

All the date prep led to me standing in front of her. Sofie smoothed over the front of my sweater, trying to get rid of every imperfection, running her small, slender fingers over my chest, stomach, and arms. She was so focused. Whenever Sofie concentrated on something, she’d do this thing where she would sort of half-frown and bite her lip at the same time. Sometimes it was endearing. Sometimes it was a turn-on.

“Text me when the date’s over,” she said. Sofie always tilts her head back to look up at me. “I’ll be waiting up.”

“Aww, you care, I’m sure what I’m wearing is modest enough for a first date so darling Alexandra can’t accuse me of dressing too provocatively,” I told her. She giggled. “What will you do while waiting?”

“Alan said he could come over and play some games with me,” Sofie answered. She had the smile she used when talking about things that made her happy. To say I was seething with jealousy would have been an understatement. Alan was making Sofie happy. I wanted her to be happy. Why was I starting to hate him? “Tell me all about the date after, okay?”

I pursed my lips. Silence filled the room, the only sounds being my heartbeat and me slowly giving up on having my best friend like me as more than a best friend—and more than an ultra-mega-super-best-friend, which she insists we are sometimes. I didn’t know if it was because she was laughably naive or if she just didn’t think of me that way. Maybe giving up on this would have been better for both of us. I could find a girl and Sofie could have her fun with Alan.

Sofie looked up at me again, snapping me out of my reverie, one brow arched high on her forehead. “You feeling sick or something?” she asked. “Need some water? Something to eat? Meds? A blowjob? What is it?”

She always knew just what to say. I leaned my forehead against hers, laughing quietly to myself. Her hands snaked up to caress my neck, fingers running circles along my veins. I stared at her. She stared at me. She slowly bit her lip; every time she did that, Sofie would half-smile, the corners of her mouth tilting up.

“It’s the weekend and I’m not fucking you yet,” I told her. Talking about fucking was always quick solution when word vomit was about to come right out. “You busy tomorrow?”

“No, not really,” Sofie replied, voice small. “Morning?”

“Perfect.”

Sofie planted both hands firmly on my chest and pushed me backwards. “Get a move on or your girlfriend’s going to kill you,” she said.

“Murder by the girl of many men’s dreams? Not too bad.”

She laughed. The two of us headed for the door, Sofie stepping out first and me following. Alan should be heading to her room by now. She had to get dressed.

I walked her back to her room – Sofie hadn’t received any text from Alan yet, nor did her roommate seem to be around. Her roommate was the definition of batshit crazy and I was more than relieved to know Sofie wouldn’t have to spend too much time with her tonight.

She’d be with Alan instead.

Before saying goodbye, Sofie jabbed a finger into my chest. “Don’t forget to text me when you get back, understand?”

“I understand,” I told her, smiling. “No need to worry like a mom, pumpkin.”

“I’ll stop worrying like a mom when you stop making your stupid dad jokes,” Sofie said, but still, she smiled at me. “Have fun, okay? Don’t be mean, don’t keep checking your phone, remember to compliment her—you know what to do.”

She unlocked the door to her room and walked in, door closing behind her. I shoved my foot into the doorframe. Sofie swung it open again, looking at me like I’d just said Luigi was a more major character in the franchise than Mario. “The fuck?” she asked.

I took her face in my hands and bent down to kiss her: quickly, softly, a breath against her mouth and then it was over. I let go. She was confused; maybe she wanted more, it depends on how I wanted to see it, but confused definitely. She was always confused whenever I kissed her out of nowhere. “In case this date ends up going somewhere.”

Sofie frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I laughed at her and told Sofie I’d see her later. She didn’t know I was hoping that kiss would be the last time I ever kissed her.

Alexandra was just as hot as all her photos: blonde, green-eyed, tan, toned, beautiful tits and a nice ass. She was dressed in a sleeveless, tight black dress, hair running down over her shoulders, legs ending in a pair of strappy black heels. Her sorority sisters were all just as hot. I never trusted sororities, though – when that many girls look that perfect there’s bound to be some sort of dungeon underneath the house where innocent men get tortured.

The two of us went out for Thai. It was a brightly lit restaurant with yellow bulbs and red walls, customers and servers talking and walking about, creating an atmosphere of warmth and family. The air was thick with the scent of peanuts and garlic. Music ran through the room, a light, tinkling sound that could have made anyone feel like a live band were playing only a few feet away. We sat down together at a table right next to the window.

The last time I went to a real restaurant with someone, I’d gone with Sofie—we went out for Italian and the place we went to had a policy that they would give you as much free bread as you wanted. As a girl, she brought a purse. It was a relatively tiny purse. However, also as a girl, that purse ended up being a black hole. Out of nowhere, Sofie took out a couple Ziplocs and started shoving slice after slice of bread in there, quietly cackling, grinning evilly, reaching the point where the cackling was infectious and I started laughing low in my throat too. A lady sat across from us. She burst out in laughter.

“Your evil is audible. I like it,” I said to Sofie.

“It isn’t being evil, it’s being resourceful!” she replied. “You know all that stuff they put on the table for customers to use as much as they want? I steal all of that shit. It’s there for me, so why would I just leave it there?”

I still have three more Ziplocs of garlic bread in my freezer.

As soon as we sat down and finished ordering, Alexandra leaned forward, her tits straining against the top of her dress, and said, “So…your friend tells me you’re hung.”

I stared at her, then laughed. “Nice.”

The number of sexual jokes and talks about how many people each of us had slept with lasted the entire hour and a half. Alexandra’s sexual history was just as vibrant as mine, though lacking in interactions with those who had rather large age gaps, or age gaps bigger than six months. All of my past girlfriends were older than me. Even Alexandra was older—she was held back one year because of failing a class. Older women must have found my youth and vibrancy as appealing as flat-heeled shoes.

Sofie was the first girl I ever liked that was younger. Liking someone younger was definitely a new experience. I always felt as though I needed to take care of her, and being so adorable only made that feeling stronger. My exes were always independent, and trust me, Sofie was too, but this was the first time for me to feel like I needed to watch over someone to make sure they were okay.

I visit her room every morning and make excuses like, “Let’s go to class together,” even if my hall’s in another building, or “I just brought you some breakfast,” which I’d do, but mostly because I wanted to see her eat what I cooked. One time, when I visited her in the morning to take her to her lecture hall, I came in to find her lying face down on the floor with her legs underneath her, wrapped up in a tight ball made of Sofie, blankets and duvet.

“Scandalous,” I said. It was hard to contain my laughter when it came to her.

“I demand a sacrifice,” Sofie groaned.

That sacrifice was a breakfast of a blueberry muffin, an omelet, sausages, hot chocolate, yogurt, and some bacon (all of those things can be cooked in a microwave, mind you). She was on her period. Pleasing the fertility gods one economy-sized breakfast at a time—that was my motto for the day.

The entire dinner, I sat there, talking to a payday, a perfect ten, the dream. Alexandra was sexy. Alexandra had a sense of humor. Alexandra was happy with who she was. Alexandra was the girl you’d imagine naked every night, with tan skin and taut muscles, blonde hair a pool underneath her as you ran your hands along the contours of her bare flesh. She was the girl whose mouth you’d stare at and imagine wrapped around the head of your cock, dark red lipstick always complimenting the hues of your own skin. She was the girl you’d want to fuck. She was the girl you needed to fuck.

The entire dinner, I sat there, thinking about messy dark hair and cheeky smiles and anger expressed through either rapid-fire Japanese or rapid-fire Spanish.

Alexandra munched on her salad. I thought about dream-drunk dark brown doe eyes on a Monday morning reaching out to shut off the alarm and later blame it on a non-existent ghost.

Alexandra made one sexual joke after the other. I thought about glasses on a Tuesday night scanning leaf after leaf on a book looking for a particular genus species asking for a hug after a long, boring day.

Alexandra talked about her dog. I thought about nails dragging along milk-white thighs quietly begging for someone to end things on Wednesdays at 2am and regrets slowly unfolding as fingers reach out to grab my shirt on Thursdays after waking up.

Alexandra talked about sports. I thought about laughter and jogging and runs on Friday nights.

Alexandra did something. I thought about Saturdays where I craved nothing but the taste of skin. I thought about Sundays where we woke up tangled together in a bundle of legs and arms and hair.

I thought about someone else pushing me aside. He would take the weeks we had together. He would take the weeks I wanted to spend with her. He would take her warmth and her laughter and kiss her as a silhouette to slowly rob her of the light I know exists in every infinity that made the layers of her body.

Fuck. I choked on my water.

Alexandra leaned forward. “Never thought I’d hear a guy choke for once. Are you alright?”

I waved her off. “It’s getting late. Let’s head back.”

“Late?” She raised a brow. “Mark, it’s 9pm. This isn’t late.”

I asked a waitress for the check. “I’ve got a big game tomorrow morning with a couple of my guys. Whoever loses has to pay everyone on the other team fifty bucks. Got to be in my best shape!”

We—I—paid for dinner, we left, I took her back to her sorority house, she led me up to her room and kissed me, I pretended I had to take a shit and apologized because Thai food made my bowel movement fast, and went for my dorm building. I texted Sofie on the way there that I was on my way back. She’d meet me in my room.

WORMHOLE REFRACTOR

I rushed up to my room and threw the door open. My face twisted into the most terrifying expression I could make. Sofie squealed at the top of her voice and jumped to my bed, pulling the covers up over her head. “I was supposed to scare you, you fucker!” she yelled.

How could a guy not smile at that?

My steps on the floor were rushed. I crossed the space between us in less than a second. The sheet met the ground. My hand pulled her up against me. She said something confusedly. I kissed her. I nipped her lower lip and she opened up to me, mouth parting, our tongues meeting and making dialogue neither of us knew anything about. Sofie was pressed up along my body. Both her hands lay gingerly on either sides of my chest, her knees still on the bed, her ponytail slowly coming loose from the movements of my fingers in her silk hair.

A sigh. It wasn’t Sofie’s. It wasn’t mine. Sheets ruffled and I cracked my eye open to see Charlie pushing himself up to his elbows, eyes locked on the two of us. “I thought you went on a date with a blonde,” he said groggily. “If you’re going to fuck at least try to be quiet, man.”

Sofie and I gave him the finger simultaneously. Charlie stood. He tucked his pillow underneath his arm and crossed the room towards the door. “Text me when you guys are done. I’ll be over at Tiff’s.”

Charlie closed the door behind him. I laughed, “Can’t believe that actually worked.” Our foreheads pressed together, the kissing coming to a stop. “Did you have sex with Alan while I was gone?”

A flush spread over the apples of her cheeks. Sofie just barely backed away. “Why would I do that? I just met the guy!”

I grinned at her. “Good.” I kissed her again, breathing out against her mouth, feeling her lips part from the slightest touch and shivers run along my shoulders from the quiet purr at the back of her throat. I love her mouth. I love her breath. I reached down and tugged the bottom of her dress up, fingers grazing the bare skin of her thighs. Sofie sucked in a breath. Her thighs were always so sensitive.

Her body fell onto the bed, eyes watching me. Big and dark. Nervous. Excited. Lips parted and shining from my tongue, probably mirroring the way I looked. Sofie was so beautiful. Sofie is so beautiful. The skirt of her dress was hiked up to her waist, her arms on either side of her head, dark hair pooling around her white face. Light pink panties gave way to scarred thighs that shook just from me looking at her. I laughed. I laughed at how lucky I was, I laughed at how beautiful Sofie was, and I laughed at how easy it was for her to get me so fucking hard.

I knelt on my bed, legs on either side of her hips. “If you want Alan more than me now, just say so and I’m gone.”

She frowned. “Why all the questions about Alan?”

“Because it’s a stupid name!” I said. It wasn’t, but I had to think of something. “Besides, what would sound better?” I raised my voice up an octave. “Alan! Alan!” I gasped half-heartedly. Sofie giggled. God, she has a cute giggle. “Mark! Mark! Mark! Fuck me, Mark! Fuck me!”

Her frown deepened, but she was still smiling. “You know I’ve never said any of those things before.”

“But you have to admit that second one did sound pretty hot.” My body arched downwards, hands finding Sofie’s and knotting our fingers together. “Better if you said it – I think puberty ruined my chances at pretending to be a girl.” I bent lower. My hips pressed against hers, the tent in my pants somehow aligning perfectly with that slit waiting anxiously underneath pink underwear.

Lower: we were chest to chest. The softness of her breasts served as a cushion for my landing. Sofie would be able to feel my heartbeat this way. Maybe it could tell her all the things she needed to know.

Lower: forehead to forehead, my nose on hers, her breath hot on my mouth and getting more erratic by the second. She was shaking. Sofie started to grind against my jeans.

“So do you want me?” I whispered. Sofie nodded. A small nod. Barely a nod. She was staring up at me with her teeth digging into her lower lip and her nails sinking into the backs of my hands.

“Not good enough for tonight,” I told her. “I want to hear you.”

Sofie scowled. Even that scowl could make the sun jealous. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“Say yes, first of all,” I laughed.

“Yes,” she said, sternly. “Now come on already and, you know…”

“Actually, I don’t know.” I kissed her, a peck, a preview, a small breath on her lips she opened up to that I closed. “What is it you wanted?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not going to say it.”

My hips bucked forward. I moved the length of me over her slit, warm and wet and an invitation she couldn’t refuse. Sofie screwed her eyes shut. “Please?” I begged, unable to contain my laughter. She really didn’t want to budge.

“No,” she squeaked. I released one of her hands and let my fingers wander. I like Sofie’s body. I like Sofie’s body especially more when it was near mine. I like how she reacts. I like what she does. I like what she does when she feels the ghosts of my fingertips traveling over the curves and contours of her face, of the cave that is her throat and neck, of her chest and her breasts, over her stomach until finally resting on the heated cloth of her panties. Sofie’s hips moved forward.

“It’s honestly just three words, pumpkin,” I told her. Sofie’s glare was sharp enough to cut diamonds. How adorable. “All you have to do is say it.”

“Fuck you, shit head.” Sofie screwed her eyes shut. “You know what I want!”

I pouted. “That was four words!” I leaned backward, tearing away from all contact I had with her. “For a nerd you sure have a hard time counti – “

Sofie leapt up from the bed to encircle her arms around my neck. Her lips were heated, warm; they collided with mine. Crashed. Aligned. Attacked and interlocked with breaths and her quiet frustration. My sweater found its way to the floor; her dress followed soon after.

“You’re so annoying,” she whined, her teeth on my lip. “Why do you want me to say something that much?”

Because I want you to want me. Because I want you to need me. Because I want to know if you think about me in the morning when you wake up with a tingle in between your legs and when you lie down at night and your thoughts wander to flesh and skin and heat. Because I want to know if I’m the one that lives in your mind and if it’s my hands you want on the surface of your body. Because I want to know if I’m irreplaceable. Because I want to know if I’m replaceable. Because I want to know if I’ve touched your mind enough for your bones to think only of me. Because I like you. Because I want you to like me. Or at least pretend to.

“There’s nothing wrong with something different every now and then,” I told her. “Besides, I…I like it when you tell me how you’re feeling.”

She paused; pulled back and looked at me, her arms still around my neck, her form still flush against my front. “Fuck me, Mark.” Her voice was quiet. “Please.”

The bed springs groaned as both of us fell back onto the mattress. Her legs were around my hips. Her hands scratched my back raw. I kissed her—mouth, teeth, tongue, lips, jaws; her head tilted to the side and the curve of her neck was impossible for anyone to refuse.

My mouth moved over her body. Sofie’s fingers tugged on my hair and scratched my shoulders. She pulled tighter when I kissed her throat; harder when my lips grazed over her chest; breaths louder when I unclasped the front of her bra and took her nipple in my mouth to suck and tease and bite. Sofie writhed.

I moved down. Her stomach was a valley of white skin and scars, hipbones little peaks dotted with years and years of hate. I had every intention of kissing her, and I did: I kissed her ribs, her abdomen, the slope of her hips and every scar that had the audacity to make her feel like Sofie was anything but beautiful.

I wanted to kiss her until every time she looked at those scars that marred her body, she wouldn’t be able to think of a cold, unfeeling sheet of meta,l but would only be able to think of my mouth on her. She would only be able to think of me telling her through lips and kisses that she was more important to me than anyone I'd ever met.

The words she said were enough to throw all my restraint right out the window: “Turn me into your goddamn whore already, you stupid fucker!”

I flipped her over onto her front and tugged her backside up, getting on my knees and nearly ripping her panties clean off her hips. Sofie yelped. Her cunt glistened in the dim light with wetness and readiness for a cock or fingers or a toy, or anything that could satisfy her need to be filled up. I slapped her ass. Her yelp became a groan. Fly came undone. Propriety came undone. My cock rested on her slit, wet, soaked. My view was the white curve of her back and her figure and the flare of her hips.

Sofie pushed back on me. “Hurry up!”

I slapped her harder. “What was that?”

Sofie hesitated. “Please hurry,” she squeaked.

Her ass jiggled from another hard spank. Sofie’s back arched. Her toes curled. Her mouth formed an O and if I didn’t know any better she would have looked like she just came. Did she really enjoy being treated this way? “I can’t hear you,” I told her.

If Sofie were her normal self she would have said, “aye aye, captain!” or stuck her tongue out at me or told me to get my ears checked. But she wasn’t her normal self. “Please fuck me, Mark.” It was a small squeak. Barely a whisper, but she’d said it.

“I’ll put it in, but tell me what you’re thinking, okay, pumpkin?” I told her. My cock was positioned right at her entrance. Forward: her lips parted as my head slowly entered, wet and slick, stretching to accommodate me the same way it always did.

Sofie’s breath was fast, rapid. She buried her face into the pillow, but her quiet whispers somehow made it through. “Make me your slut, Mark. Make me your whore.”

I pulled out. She groaned in frustration. I laughed. The tip of me ran up and down her opening before going in again, even slower this time, her warm, hot pussy welcoming me back and nearly sucking me in, one inch, then two.

She gasped, high and light, head thrown back and a smile on her face. “M-M—“ she stuttered. Sofie was adorable when she stuttered, but when she stuttered to say something absolutely filthy…god, fuck. “Use me as your fuck toy, Mark.” I pulled out of her again. “Fuck you!” she yelled.

I slapped her ass. Sofie pressed her head into my pillow and whined. I laughed.

“Please.” She twisted around to look at me, eyes begging, breath unsteady. “Just please fuck me already. Make me cum on your cock and fill me up or cover me or make me swallow it all. Just please, please fuck me, Mark.”

Fuck it. I slammed into her. Sofie’s face transitioned from begging to be fucked to absolutely satisfied: she was smiling, tongue practically hanging out of her mouth, eyes fluttering closed and drool running down the side of her face. Don’t make fun of her for this, but she drools a lot, both in sex and in her sleep.

Moving was out of the question: she was tight, she was warm; fucking her was like fucking a virgin, but she and I both knew that Sofie was anything but that. I wanted her to feel it, to feel me. This was me: not Alan, not some teacher, not some guy who didn’t care about her as much as I did. It was me. And I was hers.

Five fingers knotted into her hair, pulling Sofie’s head back; our lips met in a kiss of breaths and silent thank you’s. Thank you for fucking me. Thank you for letting me fuck you. Thank you for giving me this. Her mouth was hungry and sloppy and it pains me to say this but mine was too.

Five fingers moved down to the top of her wet, most slit. Two fingers spread her open. Two found the hood of her clit. One rubbed. It rubbed her wetness and made her hips grind. She began to pant. Her knuckles tightened on the bed. She tightened around me.

“Please,” Sofie said against my mouth. “Make me cum. Make me cum. Please make me cum on your cock.”

I moved. Slow first, always slow first – I set a pace, steady, gentle, as gentle as the fingers in her hair and the fingers on her clit. She was calm. Quiet. Breathing heavily and slowly. Tightening around my cock and maybe enjoying this little friction just as much as I was.

I was fucking my best friend. I was fucking my fucking beautiful, fucking amazing best friend. Never thought this would ever happen to me when I first lost my virginity. Holding in my laughter was impossible.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” Sofie snapped, back to her old self – either version of her was a turn-on.

“Nothing, beautiful,” I told her. I slapped her across the ass, hard, a handprint starting to swell on one cheek. By some miracle, Sofie tightened even more. God fucking dammit.

I slammed into her, faster and faster, cock filling her up and pulling out again and again while she gasped and groaned and purred and growled and let her drool run down the length of her body and her curves. Her tongue hung out of her mouth, eyes rolled to the back of her head, smile plastering that normally adorable face – how the fuck was I supposed to not be at 200 percent with this girl?

“Mark,” she mewled. Sofie looked up at me, eyes bright. “I’m yours.”

Faster. Hips faster. Cock swelling. Body heating. Eyes on Sofie. Eyes on Sofie. Eyes on Sofie’s face. Eyes on Sofie’s tongue. Eyes on Sofie’s mouth. Eyes on the slobber on my bed. Eyes on Sofie. Fuck. “What was that?”

“I’m.” A gasp. Faster.

“Yours.” Another Gasp. Faster, Mark, faster.

“I’m.” A purr. Faster, dammit!

“Your.” A moan. She’s so tight.

“Cock.” Moan after moan after moan. How could she feel this fucking good?

“Hungry.” Moaning, even louder. Why am I addicted to you?

“Slut.” A breath mixed with a scream. Why can’t I stop thinking about you?

“And.” A scream, back arching. You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum on me.

“My” A louder scream. Tell me you want me, baby.

“Cunt.” Her high-pitched moan filling my ears. Tell me you want me more than any of those other fuckers who think they have a chance with you.

“Belongs.” Her voice saying my name almost incoherently. I’m going to cum.

“To.” Sofie, I am going to cum.

“You.” I let go. I thrust forward, cock swelling, releasing my load into her quickly tightening pussy. Sofie screamed into the bed. Her ass twitched, her legs twitched, her bones seemingly becoming nothing but jell-o as she collapsed onto the mattress with my cock still in her and cum beginning to run down the inside of her thighs.

I pulled out of her and bent to pick the sheet up off the floor. Sofie was tired – I wasn’t holding up too well, either. Sofie spun around on her hands and knees, eyes still drunk and shining from what we’d finished doing. She dropped down to her elbows in front of me. She leaned forward, mouth open, and took the entirety of my cock in.

“Thanks for the warning,” I groaned. Sofie smiled at me, cock enveloped in her pretty, pink lips. The heat of her tongue was amazing. She bobbed her head up and down, mouth moving, tongue teasing – and she pulled her head away, a trail of saliva sticking to her lips.

“I just wanted to clean you off – never said I would let you fuck my face, did I?” she teased, still smiling. Sofie licked her lips.

We lay down together on my bed, sheet pulled over us. Which brings us back to our beginning: her head resting on my chest, warmth and comfort following soon after. We talked about her few hours with Alan and my date with Alexandra. Sofie’s legs were wrapped around one of mine, and my fingers could never stop playing with her hair. She asked me to write this, I agreed. I told her she couldn’t read it. She said fine as long as I took her to Finding Dory.

“Wait,” she said, frowning. “So people are going to know what I said while we were fucking?”

I grinned from ear to ear. “You’re the one that asked me to write it.”

“You better not embarrass me!” She slapped my arm, and I laughed at her. Who would have thought that just barely minutes ago this adorable, spunky little girl was asking me to fuck her?

“You can do that all on your own.”

We continued to talk until Sofie fell asleep on me. Yes, she was drooling. I watched her for awhile: watched the rise and fall of her shoulders and the serenity that covered her in a sheen. Sofie was beautiful. I will never stop saying it. Sofie is beautiful.

I kissed the top of her forehead, and since I know she won’t be reading this, it’s safe for me to tell you everything that happened after.

I kissed her forehead and brushed the hair away from her face. “I love you,” I told her. She stirred in her sleep. My voice dropped to a whisper. “I love your over-active tear ducts and the hard set of your mouth; I love your silliness and your sadness; I'll love you more than you'll ever understand. I love you.”

She deserved to hear it from me, at least once in her life. What sucks is that the only time I had enough balls to tell her was while she was asleep.

What I felt may have been love for her as a friend or love for her as something more. I didn't know, because feelings like this never really hit me. I've known Sofie for a little more than a month. I spent time with her, got to know her, gave her everything I had and now all I think about is how stars don't seem as bright compared to her smile or how sex with complete strangers doesn't seem all that appealing anymore.

To whoever is reading this, I’m going to ask you for a few favors.

First of all, don’t tell her what she doesn’t know. Don’t tell her that I love her, don’t tell her how much I love her, and don’t tell her anything I’ve written here. She knows the events, she knows how the sex went—and is still embarrassed about what she said—but she doesn’t know how I feel, nor does she know how I think of her. Don’t tell her what I wrote here. If you’re going to comment, call me a shitty writer. You can say your usual, “You guys are so cute,” or something similar, but don’t let her know what’s here or what I’m feeling.

Second, it’s okay for you to tell her that we should date, but don’t keep forcing it. Don’t try to make her think that I’m the only guy for her, because that’s my job. If you try to tell her, the more she won’t believe you. Trust me, I know. That’s why I’m going to show her myself one day. I’m going to make her fall for me and take on that competition and show her that I’m the best. You can try to flirt with her. You can try to make her like you. But I’m going to try, too.

To that asshole that told her it was okay for her to kill herself and even wanted to help just so she could give you a nude: she jumped. She jumped and I got there in time to catch her before she hit the ground. I had to pull her back up that roof and listen to her cry and talk about how much she hates herself and how much she wants to die. Sofie is going to protect you no matter how much I want to hurt you. If you even think about telling her she’s insignificant again, or even consider helping her kill herself so you can see her naked, I’ll know and go all Liam Neeson on your ass.

This is the third favor: Help her realize just how amazing she is. Sofie won’t let anyone come near her until she thinks she doesn’t need anymore editing. Help her love herself, because I know how hard that can be.

Keep all of this a secret, Reddit. I’m trusting you.

Until next time.

• MK

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3p7r61/sex_after_the_first_date_a_different_perspective