[Str8] Our First Time [XP; short]

As he drops his pants, I can see through his boxers that he’s already erect. I clutch to his jacket as I scramble backwards along my bed. It smells of books and patience and knowledge, all captured in the quiet tweed.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You know what’s wrong.” I say. I want to scream it. He knows. He _should_ know. He _KNOWS_.

Sheepishly he sits down at the edge of the bed, turning his manhood away from me. A sweet gesture, but now? Too little, I fear.

“I know.” he says with a gentle smile. “I thought you wanted this, though?”

“I do.” I say, gripping his jacket tight to cover my naked body, “But I don’t.”

“I’ll go gently?” he promises. “You can tell me to stop at any time?”

Slowly, warily, I lower the jacket.

“And you’ll stop?” I ask, and he nods.

“I’ll stop.”

I nod as well, and let the jacket fall away.

He gives me a smile as he kisses my knee.

“Is this okay?”

I nod.

He kisses my knee again, on the inside this time.

“And this?”

I nod again.

Slowly, gently, warmly he lays a few kisses along the inside of my thigh.

A quiet moan escapes me.

“And that?” he asks with a smile, and I nod warily, my cheeks flushed.

Finally he takes off his glasses, placing them on my end table. Beneath them, his gray eyes twinkle sharply. With gentle warm hands he spread my legs a little, for access, and he continues up my thigh. His lips hovering over my sex he pauses, and draws back.

“You’re sure?” he asks, and timidly I nod.

He gives me a smile, and a kiss on my lips, and a kiss on my lips. As his tongue parts my deep places in search of tender spots I tremble, clutching at his shoulders and hair. He finds what he’s looking for, and as he wraps his arms around my legs I feel his breath filling me up from the very depths of my being to set my heart fluttering.

It takes him five minutes to send me over the edge, falling, trembling, shuddering, shouting. As the convulsions recede, I find myself tangled up with him on the bed, as he strokes my hair.

“That –” I pant, “– is that what sex should truly be?”

He smiles softly.

“There’s more, if you’d like.”

I would. I would, so very very much. Not with anyone, but with him I would like it so much, yet all I can do is nod timidly.

He rolls over on his back, pulling me gently along with him. Sitting on top of him, I can feel his manhood where it rests against my butt. Warm, hard, intimidating; inviting.

Gently he lifts me up and guides me onto it. As it teases against my wetness, he smiles to me again.

“Are you sure?”

No. Yes. Never more unsure. Never more sure. Trembling, I nod timidly, and he slides inside me as his slender hands marked by a thousand paper cuts now healed push me gently, gently, ever so gently down.

Inside of me, this is not new, yet it is, and with a moan I take him in. As I feel him in me, I want to rise, I want to flee, I want to stay; and he helps me back down; again and again I rise and he helps me back down, until I can feel him spilling himself inside me.

As I collapse next to him he holds me, gently stroking my hair.

When I awake in the morning, my bed is empty, but the smell of pancakes and bacon wafts in through the open bedroom door, and as I step into the kitchen.

He sits there, naked and smiling, offering me a big plate of pancakes fried into the shape of hearts.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5fqsto/str8_our_first_time_xp_short