He'd come over for dinner that Publix had prepared, but I reheated. After dinner, we sat talking and listened to some sexy slow tunes on an old vinyl player I picked up on EBay. The room was dark, lit only by the candles from the dinner table. Anthony decided to build a fire to make it cozier. The cracking of the fire with the soft music playing in the background set the mood.
Anthony sat on the sofa with his fingers running across his lips. I sat on the floor near the record player — DJ for the evening. I excused myself to the kitchen to prepare dessert. As I reached in the fridge I felt Anthony slide his hands down my back.
“I know what I want for dessert.”
“Oh yeah? And what is that?” I said as I turned with a bowl of cherries in my hand.
Anthony took a single cherry by the stem and ran it across my lips, and down my neck. “Oops,” he said as he dropped the cherry down my shirt.
“Looks like I’m going to have to go in after it,” he said reaching for my ass.
He slowly moved in, kissing me tenderly on my lips. He lifted me and placed me on the kitchen island. I reached down to unbuckle his pants and grab two handfuls of his bubble ass. He led me to the living room, where the fire was raging and soft music played in the background. We slow danced, holding each other. My head rested on his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, his every breath. I looked up; his eyes were closed as he hummed softly.
'Forget the cherries, somebody's been asking for you all day baby.' He took my head in his hands and eased me down to his crotch.
Step Dad Likes to Watch
“Nice cheerleader outfit,” Blake says, looking me up and down.
I smirk at him. “You know I’m a cheerleader,” I say.
“Still, to see it… wow.”
I laugh. I am standing in my bedroom in front of my dresser mirror, brushing my long dark blond hair. I check the eyeliner around my dark blue eyes. Still looks good. My boyfriend Blake is standing in my doorway.
“You know I’m just going to mess it up again,” he says, coming towards me seductively.
“Shh,” I say. “Close the door.”
He chuckles. “Erica.” Still he humors me. He closes the door and leans against it with his tall lanky frame. He is goodlooking. He has short dark hair, lean muscles, arms folded across his chest. He’s in college. I’m in high school. A senior. I turned 18 a few months ago. He’s my best friend’s older brother. That’s how we met. I feel my heart rate speed up as I imagine what we are about to do.
I set my brush down. He takes a step toward me. I start to shake a little bit. It’s not like we’ve never made out before, but this is different.
“Shh,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek. He has on black jeans and a black T-shirt. It makes him look vaguely sinister, but I like it. His green eyes sparkle down at me.
He kisses me, and his hands immediately move to my large round breasts. I kiss him harder. He moves his hands to my small waist. He slowly backs me up toward the bed.
“When does your stepdad get home?” he mutters between kisses.
“Five thirty,” I say.
“So, we have time,” he says, then kisses me again.
I live with my stepdad, Bill. My mother died a few years ago, and I’ve never met my real father.
Blake awkwardly kicks his shoes and socks off while kissing me, standing next to my bed. I laugh. I step out of my shoes and then reach down to pull off my socks.
He picks me up and lays me down on the bed. He keeps kissing me. He whips his T-shirt off. Then he unzips the back of my cheerleader uniform. It’s my long-sleeved one because it's winter. He pulls the little outfit off of me, leaving me in my white bra and panties.
“Oh, God, Erica,” Blake says as he kisses my cleavage. I shiver. I can feel wetness gathering between my legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says as he reaches around me to unhook my bra. He pulls it off and looks amazed as he stares at my breasts. I run my hands over his muscled chest. I am nervous, but this is so exciting.
“I can’t believe you’re a virgin,” he whispers as he dives between my breasts with his face. I moan. I run my fingers through his hair. Then he starts to pull my panties off. I start to shake again.
“Shh, Erica…” he says quietly. Then he starts to kiss my neck and ears, and then down to my breasts. I am panting. He reaches his hand down to my vagina and puts his fingers inside. I shiver, and get more wet.
He unzips his jeans, and shrugs out of them quickly, boxers too. He is breathing heavily.
“Are you ready?” he asks breathlessly.
“Yes,” I whisper, staring into his eyes.
He reaches down with his hand and guides his penis into me. It feels so big. He thrusts it gently into me as deep as it will go. I feel a sharp pain inside.
“Ow,” I gasp.
“Sorry,” he says. “I guess it always hurts for girls the first time.”
He stares into my eyes as he starts to thrust into me. I moan. It still stings inside, but it feels good too. So good.
He thrusts for a few more minutes and I feel a strange sensation build up inside me. It’s like I want him more and more. To go deeper or faster or something. The pleasure is wonderful. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I’ve never even masturbated. Then all of a sudden there is a burst of pleasure, so exquisite I can’t believe it. I moan and my muscles clench involuntarily.
Soon after, Blake groans and ejaculates into me. He laughs and says, “Oh, my God, that was awesome.”
I laugh. I agree. I wrap my arms around him as he kisses me.
I never knew sex felt this good. Blake and I have been having sex for 2 months now. Almost daily. My stepdad, Bill, is a professor at the local university. English literature. He gets home about 2 hours after me. That gives Blake and I plenty of time to do it. We don’t use condoms, but I’m on the pill, so it’s okay. Bill doesn’t know I’m on the pill. I had to go to the women’s clinic, where they don’t make you pay much. I’m sure Bill doesn’t know I’m having sex either.
Tonight is an unusual night. Blake can’t come over. He has to go to his grandmother’s big birthday bash. So I’m alone. Bill is late coming home too. It’s getting dark and stormy outside. I may have to make a sandwich for dinner.
I’m reading a magazine on the couch when Bill gets home. He shakes the rain out of his short thinning brown hair. He’s handsome for a 50-year-old man, though. In a professorly way. Tall and thin. He walks a lot, so he’s got lean muscles. He does yoga. He’s got those sensitive brown eyes that girls love. His students get crushes on him. He looks sort of quiet and harmless and cuddly.
He’s holding a pizza box in his hand. He holds it up to show me, “I got dinner.”
“Cool,” I say. I hop off the couch and follow him into the kitchen. He gets out two plates.
“No Blake tonight?” he asks.
“Nope. He had a family thing,” I say as I take a bite of pepperoni pizza. He hands me a glass of water, then gets himself one. We walk over to the little square wooden kitchen table where we always eat.
“How’s school?” he says as he chews.
“Good.”
We finish our dinner and then he goes up to his office to grade some term papers. His office is right next to my bedroom. I hang out watching TV downstairs for a while, then I head up to my bedroom. When I walk by his closed office door, I hear a strange noise.
It almost sounds like a groan. Like he’s in pain. I stop to listen. I hear another one. I put my hand on the doorknob. Should I really go in? He moans. What if he’s sick or injured? I open the door. I am not prepared for what I see.
