“Just so you know,” Tilly says, “I’m a good girl, I’m not going to have sex until I’m married.”
I’m holding the car door open for her to get in, and she’s just agreed to come back to my place with me. It’s our fifth date — fifth time hanging out — and I really don’t know what I’m doing. Inviting her to my place was a whim. The evening had been going so well, it seemed like the thing to do. I hadn’t intended the implication, though, I hadn’t thought about what it would sound like I was asking.
“Yeah, no,” I say, “That’s great. I just wanted to keep talking, really.”
“Great,” she says, sitting down, pulling the seatbelt on, “I’m so glad we’re on the same page, there’s so many jerks out there who’re just interested in only one thing, you know?”
“Uh, I guess.” I don’t actually know.
I’ve only broken up with my first girlfriend ever eight months back, and even though the ex and I had been together for the last two years of high school and then four more years after that, I still feel like a total novice when it comes to romance. Dating, as in actual adults taking each other on dates, it’s all new to me. And sex? My one relationship hadn’t been the most sexual affair. We’d had sex, sometimes, but it wasn’t good, wasn’t fun. Part of the reason things ended, I suppose.
And I’d only been with one other girl — a rebound fuck, this girl who I met online — but that went nowhere and just left me feeling dirty.
I want to move past it all, I’m eager for something better. A friend of mine’s girlfriend stepped in, telling me she knew just the person. And that’s how I met Tilly. Our first time talking was casual, hanging out all together in a group with my friends, and she was super sweet, an innocent girl who seemed as inexperienced and fumbling as me. So Tilly and I met up again, getting coffee at a bookstore. Then a few more times in easy, public places. And now, without even thinking how it would come across, I’ve just invited her back to my place. Just the two of us, in private.
I look over at her, sitting in my passenger seat, and flash her a reassuring smile. She’s cute, girlish, brunette and slender, with big expressive brown eyes and an easy-yet-timid laugh, like she’s afraid I won’t like it.
“This is a big moment,” she says, “Me getting to see your place, I mean. I wonder what it’ll be like?” She giggles.
I can’t help but laugh back. “It’s just a normal place, nothing special.”
“Oh, but you can learn so much about someone by seeing their home, don’t you think?”
“I mean, sure, you’ll find out all sorts of major things,” I tease, “Like what machine I use to make my coffee, and what color my couch is.”
She laughs. “Yes. But also, like, how tidy you are. What stuff you’re into.”
“Oh no! What stuff am I supposed to be into? What if you walk in and see that I’m a huge sports bro?”
She shakes her head. “You’re not, I already know that. I think it’s more realistic, I walk in and see you’ve got a poster of one those booby fantasy girls who think a bra counts as armor. Or some anime chick with an enormous chest.”
“You wound me!” I mock outrage, “I would never!”
“Oh, what, you’re too classy for that?”
“Naw,” I say, “I’m too cheap. I just have those as my laptop wallpaper.”
We both laugh.
“And here I was,” I continue, “Worried you’d be judging me for all my cheap IKEA furniture. But then, the bar is so low, simply not having trashy artwork is enough.”
“Hey! I’ve got standards, mister.” She smiles at me from across the car.
“Ok, well,” I park in the spot, “Here we are. Generic apartment building number three.”
It’s dark, the lot lit by a single greenish overhead light some distance away, but she flashes me another grin. She’s cute, did I say that already? And she’s got on this light, breezy dress that’s perfect for these hot nights, modest in cut yet still fabulously sexy, or maybe I’m just falling for her. I do that, fall for girls. Luckily this one is actually dating me.
“You’re beautiful,” I say as I lead her up the stairs.
“Thanks,” she giggles, her eyes sparkling, her step buoyant.
We’re at my apartment door. I turn the key, push it open. “Dun dun duh!” I make the sound effect, “Here’s the big moment.”
She laughs, walks inside. “Hey, swanky place.”
“Thanks.”
“Except, wow, that’s a lot of board games.” One wall of my living room is lined with cabinets, colorful boxes of games of all sorts filling every available spot. Party games, strategy games, games that recreate famous battles, games based on comic books. It’s my (nerdy) hobby.
“Did you say ‘except’, implying that board games are not swanky?”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” she giggles, “I was just impressed. How long have you been collecting?”
“Eh,” I wave it off, “Since forever, it feels like.”
She furrows her brow, studying the wall of games with a look of concentration.
“What?” I frown.
“Just doing the math,” she says, “Trying to figure out how much you must’ve spent. And, wow, it’s a lot.”
I shrug. “I save up.”
“Which one’s your favorite?”
“What, you want to play?”
“Well, yeah,” she says, intoning like it’s self-evident, “You obviously love your hobby, so you should be happy to share it with me, right? And some of these I’ve even played before.”
I perk up. “You have? Which?”
Tilly laughs. “You should see yours expression. Like a little boy who just found he’s getting ice cream.”
“I like chocolate.” It’s a cheesy line, but I sell it.
She laughs again. All this laughter, it must be a good sign. “Alright. That one, and that one, and that one over there.” She points.
So I set up a game for us to play. I pick something co-op, where we work together to defeat the game’s mechanics. It’s better than battling against each other, I figure. A game where we try to defeat one another doesn’t seem like the right spirit.
We sit across from each other at the smaller gaming table I have set up, and she beams at me over the game board. She picks up the strategy quickly, learning the mechanics and nuance with deft acuity. We start strong, stumble a little in the middle, and then we recover handsomely and win. Tilly pushes hard, and we actually sweep, completing most of the side objectives, too.
“Wow,” I say, sitting back, surveying the conquered board, “You’re good at this.”
“Let’s celebrate,” she says, setting something maroon and scrunchy in the middle of the game.
I frown. “What’s that?”
“They’re my panties,” she says.
“Oh.” What she said hasn’t really sunk in. “Oh!” I look up at her, my eyes wide. Her grin is mischievous.
She stands. My eyes trace the hem of her skit, but it’s just as modest as always, of course I can’t see anything. She holds out her hand. “Come with me.”
I rise, dumbly. “I thought you said…”
She guides me to my bedroom, finding it out even though she’s never been there before. “Thought I said what?”
“…not until marriage?”
“I did.” She looks around, taking in the space, getting her bearings. It’s pretty austere, I only use the room for sleeping. She says, “You do you like pussy, though, right?”
I blink. “Yeah…”
“Good. Lie down on your bed.”
“Uh…” I’m massively confused, but I do what she says.
She climbs on top of me, straddling my chest, grinning down at me. “You’re going to eat me out,” she says, “And you’re not going to stop until I say so. Do you understand?”
Dumbfounded and shocked, I nod.
“Say it!” she barks.
“I understand.” It’s weak.
“Louder! Like you mean it!”
“I understand!”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to eat you out.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re going to what?”
“I’m going to eat your pussy!”
“Good,” she says, and then slides forward and sits on my face.
Her dress forms a tent around my head, the meager light that filters through barely enough to illuminate her shaved sex. My eyes adjust as my nose fills with the scent of arousal, and I’m puzzled but turned on.
“Eat!” she commands.
I reach out with my tongue and start licking.
“Good boy,” she groans, “I always love a gamer. Y’all well know how to follow instructions.”
Her thighs clamp down on my ears, and I eat pussy for all I’m worth. I’d love to tell you I’m an expert, but I don’t have much experience doing this, and I fumble and fake my way through it. I taste her heat, feel her moans when I do something good, and I lick and lick and lick until I can do no more.
“Why are you stopping?”
I mumble something unintelligible.
She pushes herself back an inch.
“My tongue’s cramping,” I complain.
She frowns. “Then use your jaw.” She sits back down, grinding against my face.
I give her all I’ve got, and she’s moans and gets wetter and louder and then she’s done. She sits back on my chest, sighing. “Oh, that was good, I needed that.”
I wipe her juices off my face with the back of my hand. “What next?”
She caresses my cheek. “That’s nice of you, but I’m good for tonight. You’ll learn to do even better, if we keep seeing each other. And you’ll get some stamina in that tongue of yours.”
“Oh,” I say weakly, “But I mean, what about…” I point down, at my crotch, at the erection I’m sporting, tenting my pants.
She turns, looks at it over her shoulder. “What about it? I told you, I’m not having sex until marriage.”
“But– but– but–” I stammer.
“Yes?”
“I just ate you out!”
“You think that earns you special privileges? You think sex is transactional? I thought you were a nice guy, one of the good ones.”
“I am!” I protest. What happened to sweet, innocent, Tilly? Who was this?
“Guys masturbate all the time,” she says, “Just, finish yourself off that way.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” she says, pulling herself off me, folding her legs underneath her by my side. “I’ll even watch if you want.” She eyes my bulge.
“What?” I stammer. “You’re not going to give me anything at all?”
She rolls her eyes. “Look. I can see that you want me. And you’ve been sweet to me, I wouldn’t have let you lick my pussy otherwise. But I’ve got rules, I told you.”
I unzip my fly, yank my cock free. “Look how hard you’ve got me!”
She eyes it, considering, biting her lip. “Ok. That’s… very hard, yeah.” She shifts her legs. “I can… do something for you. But it comes with stipulations. Ground rules.”
“Anything,” I say, “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I don’t care what it is, I just need you.”
Her eyebrows raise. “If you say so.” She reaches for my cock, running one finger up its underside, a touch so light I can barely tell it’s there.
But barely there is still there, and my cock twitches, surging forward, yearning towards relief that’s she’s hinted at. She giggles, cups my balls, runs another finger up the underside of my cock. “Do you like that?”
“Yes!”
She smiles, toys with my balls.
“Do it,” I whimper.
“I am doing it.” She runs her finger along the top of my cock, pushing it down, making it strain. She giggles, pulling her finger away, watching my dick sway in need. “Look how much it loves my touch.”
Breaths rush in and out through my clenched teeth.
She grabs the base of my shaft, pinching it in her grip, watching my shaft turn bright red. She runs another finger, ever so lightly, down it’s underside.
“Fuck…” I mutter.
She giggles, shaking my dick side to side.
“Please…”
She releases her grip, teasing me with another feather-soft touch. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” She runs her fingertip is circles around my glans, pressing as gently as possible.
My answer is disjointed syllables, panted with desperation. “I… I… I…”
“Good,” she says as my cock throbs and sprays cum into the air like a fountain. “There’s my good boy.”
I wail, groaning in frustration as my dick continues to ooze, thick white load dripping down its side.
She laughs, slaps my shaft, sending the cum spraying. “So here’s my rules, which you’ve agreed to. From now on, I’m in charge of your balls. They cum only when I tell them to, and not a moment before. If you jack off, I’ll know, and I’ll lock them in a cage. If any other girls touch them, you’ll never see me ever again. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I whimper, “I understand.”
“Good,” she smiles, “Now, clean yourself up and drive me home.”
Four week pass. Four weeks where I ask to see her every single night. I don’t mean to be so desperate, I just can’t help it. When she accepts, if she thinks the date’s good enough, I’m allowed to eat her out. I’ve gotten much better since that first time. And if the date’s really special, I’m allowed to cum. The last time that happened was two weeks ago.
Tonight, I’ve taken her to this fancy French restaurant, a place she said she’s always dreamed of going. My balls are so blue, I can barely sit through dinner. She’s wearing this shimmery, elegant green gown which emphasizes her slender curves and round ass, and I’m halfway erect under the table.
“This sauce really is fantastic,” she says, all innocent and naive, “But this place is so expensive, is tonight a special occasion?”
“No, err,” I mutter, “I just wanted you to be happy.”
She winks, but her expression is pure and virtuous. “Tell me about your day. Did you miss me?”
We make conversation, or at least she does and I try to. She looks so good in that dress, my gaze keeps dropping to her bare shoulders, her hints of cleavage. I’m confident my face will be between her thighs tonight, and the food is bland compared to how I know she will taste.
When dinner ends and we push our chairs back and stand, she twists her torso just so, glimmering in the emerald fabric. Her sexiness hits me in the face, her cute guilelessness leaves me imbalanced. “You’re beautiful,” I blurt, “I love you.”
“Oh!” her eyes widen happily, and she leans into me for a kiss. “That’s so sweet of you to say.” We kiss again, and then we hug. With her lips near my ear, she whispers, “You must really need to cum.”
I whimper, “Please.”
“If you keep telling me you love me, definitely tonight.”
We get to the car, and she adds, “Well, maybe.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/1048vyn/my_girlfriend_wont_have_sex_with_me_m23_f25
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