The party's starting, and I feel a little guilty. See, there's this boy I invited, Terry, who I'd like to get to know better. Maybe a lot better, even... no, I can't think about that yet. I'm out from under my mother's thumb, and I'm going to explore my freedom, but I'm not going to rush into anything.

It's strange to think I might want to get close to a guy. A touch of apprehension and a touch of elation in the thought. Stranger to think that it isn't just Terry. There's another boy, Jake, who I've befriended. He lives here in the apartment complex.

Where Terry's fun-loving and outgoing, Jake's more laid-back, but he's very attentive to me. He likes to smooth lotion into my shoulders and back when I'm lying out by the pool. Especially if I unfasten my top (lying face down, of course) to give him unfettered access. Then his fingers explore from my shoulders to the small of my back, and it feels good.

I grin, then put him out of my mind as people start to arrive.

A couple of hours and two glasses of wine later, I'm annoyed. He could have called, or something. I'm starting to wish I'd invited Jake instead.

Then the door opens and in strolls Terry.

He sees me and smiles. After a moment I realize he seems a little unsteady, and when he gets close I get a strong whiff of booze. Seems that he's been partying already. I introduce him to the girls, my roommates, and he vanishes into the kitchen, returning with a beer.

Terry is loud, and when he picks up a second beer and asks me to show him around the apartment I feel relieved that he won't be embarrassing me in front of my friends.

Inside my small room he wraps his arms around me from behind, drawing me close with his hands on my stomach. I shiver as he breathes into my ear, and turn around in his grasp. His hands take my hips, and hold me close to him as his lips find mine.

I resist the pressure on my lips, and break away after a moment. I'm not comfortable with this. Terry's left hand slides around to my back, holding me more firmly against him, and he turns slightly so that his thigh presses between my legs.

His lips explore my ear, then press against mine again. His right hand slides up from my waist, and forward, wedging between us and covering my left breast, squeezing hard.

I grunt and draw back. "You're hurting," I say. He squeezes harder, and I wince with pain. "Stop it," I say, pushing him away. "I don't want to."

Terry's left hand still pins me to him like a vice, but his right leaves my breast. "It'll be okay, babe," he whispers, his hand down my back, then lifting my short dress and caressing my ass, hard.

"No," I say, panicking now. "I don't want to." I push against his shoulder, then beat my fists on his chest.

He looks annoyed. "Aww, c'mon," he says, grabbing for me as I wriggle free.

"No," I yelped, frightened now. He grabs for my ass, and I hear a ripping sound. I twist away from him, and hear more fabric tear as I get to the door.

I get out of my room, feeling the short skirt of my dress tangling in my knees, and look down to see my panties exposed. I am sick and scared and I do not want to be around the girls' friends. Grabbing the remnants of my dress I wrap it around me and dive out of the front door, pulling it closed behind me with a bang.

The apartment lot is empty of people, but I can't stand here. I certainly don't want to be here if Terry comes out, so I run down the single flight of stairs, and across to the only place where I think I might feel safe. I bang urgently on Jake's door.

God, I think to myself, I can be so naive.

I am. It isn't open to debate. I know I'm young, and sheltered, and I'm trying to learn. But not like that. Being naive so often gets me into trouble.

Hearing voices I flatten myself against the inside of Jake's entranceway. The sounds aren't Terry, though, and I breathe a little more easily. The glass panels in the door begin to glow, and I hear footsteps.

When the door opens, I'm still pressed against the wall, shivering. I hear Jake's voice. "Alice? My God, what's the matter?"

I open my eyes. "Jake? May I come in?"

"Of course," he says. He's wearing a thick robe, and I realize he'd been in bed.

I open my mouth to apologize, then change my mind. He won't care about being woken up, and I want him to know that I'm grateful. "Thank you," I say instead.

Jake brings me something hot - tea, with sugar, after I tell him my tale. I'm sitting on the couch, still holding my dress together. He asks if I need to call the cops. I've thought about it, but I don't think he really wanted to hurt me, or to rape me. Not in a place where I could scream for help. He was just drunk, and stupid.

"But, you know," I say, sniffling, "I was so proud of this dress. I only bought it for today." I lift the torn fabric. "Now look at it..." Then I burst into tears.

Jake comes over, takes the tea cup out of my hand so that I don't spill it, sets it down and sits beside me. He puts an arm around me, and I rest my head on his shoulder as my tears subside.

"Can I stay here tonight?" I ask, quietly. "I can sleep here, on the couch."

"No," he replies, "you have the bed. You need the rest. I'll take the couch."

I protest, but he insists. I smile at him and thank him, then sit up and drink more of my tea.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Mostly," I say. Then I touch my left breast. "He hurt my boob. Why would he do that?"

"Why did he hurt you, or why... there?"

"Both, I guess." I frowned, and poke around a little more. It's going to be tender for a while. I notice that Jake is looking at me strangely, and lower my hand.

"Maybe in his drunk state he thought you wanted him to, but he was too far gone to be in control."

"Are you making excuses for him?" I ask.

"Hey, I was ready to call the cops," he says. "No, I'm not. But in another situation... maybe you would have wanted him to touch it." His eyes flicked down to my chest momentarily. "I mean, it can feel good. Umm..." he interrupts himself with a nervous grin, "so I've heard. I mean, I'm not in a position to know first-hand. So they say, anyway."

Amused by his discomfort, I smile slightly.

"So, umm," he says, "can I find you a tee shirt to sleep in? I don't think you'd be comfortable wearing that."

"Sure." I nod. "Thank you."

He stands. "Come with me," he says, leading the way to his bedroom. A moment's rummaging around in a drawer produces a tee which will work. "Let me just find my sleeping bag, and I'll be out of your hair."

I don't really want to be alone, and his bed is queen sized. "Jake," I say. He stops his search and turns to me. "Stay here. There's room."

He gives me a look of wide-eyed surprise, then nods. Maybe he understands. "Okay," he says, then he shows me to the bathroom, and I close the door and I take off my torn dress, hose, and the bra that I bought just for this outfit.

The tee isn't really long enough, covering less than half of my thigh, but it will serve. I put my head round the door. "Look the other way for a moment," I say, then cross to the left side of the bed and climb between the sheets. "Okay, I'm done."

Lying on my left side, I feel the bed rocking as Jake gets in behind me. He bids me goodnight and turns out the light.

I'm feeling much better than I was. Jake's proving to be the good friend that Terry was not. Still, my sore boob reminds me of my ordeal. Why are boys so obsessed with them anyway? If he was someone I liked, and was gentle, would it really be okay?


"Huh?" His voice was gritty with sleep. I looked back to see him turn over to face me.

"Show me," I said. He makes a puzzled noise, so I reach back for his hand and draw it close, then I rest it against my right breast. "Show me why it feels good," I say.

I hear him make a strangled sound, but then his fingers caress my breast through the soft tee, barely touching at first, then with a little more confidence.

His fingers wrap around, pressing into the yielding flesh, and his thumb slides over the upper side, squeezing gently, running up to my nipple, which begins to tingle.

"This isn't the one he hurt, is it?" Jake murmurs.

I shake my head, feeling my breast quiver against his fingers. "I wouldn't want you touching that one."

"Want me to kiss it better?" he asks.

I don't know if he's serious. "I don't think so, Jake," I say.

"So... does this feel okay?"

"Yeah," I reply. "It feels - comforting."

He grunts, and squeezes a little harder, in a regular motion that moves and caresses. Comforting - that's not really how I'd describe the growing tingle. I feel my nipple swelling as his thumb runs over it. The sensation gives me a thrill that seeps back into my body, setting up a warm, pleasing feeling, which drives the last of my anxiety away.

Letting myself relax, I breathe out slowly. Perhaps sensing my mood, Jake's fingers slide higher on my breast, until he's rubbing my hard nipple between finger and thumb. That feels pretty good, too, the feeling making my heart beat a little faster.

After a time, his hand slowly slides off my boob, then works its way down my side. I feel a touch on my leg, then back up, under the tee, caressing my waist, and higher...

"Jake, no," I say, quite sharply. "I don't want you to do that."

His hand immediately retreats, and in a contrite voice he says, "Oh. God, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I say. To prove the point, I reach back for his hand, then place it back on my breast - outside the tee - and hold it there for a moment before gently pushing him away.

I fall asleep still suffused in warmth.


In the morning, Jake calls my roomies to bring some clothes so that I can go home. They had no idea what had happened to me. At first they're worried, but they soon set to teasing me about spending the night with Jake. They call him "quite a catch," and "hope I took precautions."

I tell them he was a perfect gentleman, but it doesn't stop them kidding around with me, and, truth to tell, I like it.


That evening, Terry calls. Very apologetic. I tell him I've no interest in listening to his story. He blew his one and only chance. I hang up on him.

The phone rings again. I pick it up. "What now?"

It's a different voice. "I... uhh... is this Alice?"

"Jake? Oh, damn, I'm sorry. I thought you were Terry calling back."

"He's giving you problems?"

"Nothing I can't deal with," I say. "It's good to hear from you."

My roomies have sensed the change in tone and are making... suggestive gestures. I turn away from them, grinning. Jake asks me how I'm feeling, and we talk for a time. Late in the conversation he says that he'd like to see me.

"With or without pajamas," he adds.

"... Without meaning... what, exactly?" I ask.

"I just mean you don't have to stay, but if you feel like sleeping over, you'd be welcome. I'd like it. Then you can bring your own sleepwear and your own bunny slippers."

"How do you know I have bunny slippers?" I yelp, and hear the girls explode with laughter.

"Lucky guess?" he offers. "So, what about it?"

I lower my voice. "Yeah," I say, "I might like that. My roomies are both going to their parents' this weekend, and I really wasn't looking forward to staying here alone. Especially if Terry calls again."


When the second roomie finally drives away late on Friday I'm elated. Jake hasn't been far from my mind for this whole time. I feel a little guilty, actually. I haven't even thought much about Jake, just about that nice warm feeling.

I take a paper grocery bag with me, with pajamas and toothbrush. He kisses me as I enter his apartment. I return just a peck, and a quick hug.

"Bunny slippers?" he asks, looking at my bag.

"Uh-uh," I reply. "I don't really have any."

He gets me a beer, and we sit and talk for a while. He seems apprehensive, and I am, a little. Okay, I'll admit it's a strange situation. We're not even dating, but I came here to spend the night.

After I put my empty bottle down on the table, Jake says, "So..." then pauses for a long time before continuing, nervously, "time for bed?"

"Sure," I say, too quickly.

I take my bag into the bathroom and change first, then climb into bed. A few minutes later, Jake joins me. After a moment, I feel his fingers on my waist. I touch them briefly in encouragement, then lie there expectantly as they approach my chest, feeling them slowly slide around my boob.

My pajamas are much thinner than Jake's tee shirt was. I hadn't considered that. His touch is more intimate. Probably feels the same to him, too. Oops... His finger and thumb glide around my nipple, tweaking it into fullness before he begins kneading. I sigh gently in the sensuous warmth.

He lifts his hand away, instead tracing his fingertips around my breast, then down and over the left one.

"How's this now?" he asks softly. "Sure you're not ready for me to kiss it better?"

"I'm sure," I say. "It's fine now."

Hearing that, he begins to caress it, and soon my left nipple is also swollen.

Then he runs his fingers down the underside of my left breast, across to the right, and back. On the next pass, he stops between them. His fingers thread between the buttons of my pajama top, and then venture to the right, stroking the very edge of the soft skin of my right breast.

I clear my throat. "Jake..."

"Oh, okay," he complains, and returns to kneading my left breast and rubbing my nipple.

When it is hard, Jake lifts his hand from it, and drums his fingers across it, which seems to send a taut pulse through my body, thrilling me in the depths of my belly.

While I'm still recovering from the sudden feeling, he switches back to my right breast, kneading it firmly. My nipple hardens, and he splays his fingers and flicks them across it.

The spike of feeling makes my breath catch. I stifle a groan, tightening my thighs together, then will myself to relax. I guess I'm closer to understanding why guys are obsessed with breasts. "Jake," I say, keeping my voice neutral. "Don't do that any more."

"Did I hurt you?" he asks.

"Umm, yeah," I lie.

"Oh?" he says. "I'm sorry," he says, and moves his hand to my waist. I set mine on his and squeeze, then reach back and knead his hip for a moment.

"It's fine" I say. "Just avoid them for now."

I feel him nod against me, and his hand strokes my waist and hips. When I don't object, he explores more widely, over my stomach, butt, thighs. I'd like not to have the cloth of my pajamas between us in these less, umm, less personal areas, but I'm not about to start unbuttoning and encouraging him. Especially with my breasts feeling so sensitive.

"Kissing it better" ... right now the thought of feeling his lips on my skin is dangerously attractive, speeding my heart as Jake's hand slides over the inside of my thigh.

His thumb rests very close to my sex, which still tingles from the earlier feeling. I tighten my thighs against his hand, and his thumb strokes my pussy. I'm surprised to find that the contact doesn't feel intrusive, but welcome. That's probably because of the lingering stimulation. Touch is something I desire, especially if I think again of him kissing my... damn, I have to drive that image from my mind.

I relax my thighs, and a couple of fingers join his thumb, stroking the front of my pajamas. He's having to stretch to reach me, and after a few moments I roll over onto my back.

Jake's palm stretches over my pussy, pressing, kneading gently. His eyes are wide and dark as I look into his face. "That feels nice," I say, and he grins.

Now that I'm lying on my back, my still-swollen nipples are making distinct peaks against the thin cloth. I see Jake's eyes occasionally flick down to them. One time he licks his lips, and I shudder slightly and bite mine, looking away.

The pressure on my sex disappears, and I feel a sensuous tickle as Jake draws his fingernails over my stomach. He's pushed my pajama top up slightly to expose my belly. Maybe it would be fun if he'd keep going higher... maybe I wouldn't try to stop him. Maybe I'd like to explore the sensation that he triggered just a little further.

I lie there, still uncertain what I'll do, enjoying the sensation, waiting for the inevitable moment that his touch drifts towards my chest - but it doesn't arrive. Instead it sinks, spreading out again over my sex, caressing.

It isn't until after his palm is stretched out over my panties, pressing down against me, that I realize it's inside my pajama pants, and that I can feel him against the skin of my upper thigh. No sooner have I understood this than a finger slides against the front of my underwear, then inside, touching the lips of my sex.

Somewhere I realize that this should trouble me. Especially that I was so insistent that he not get his hands inside my shirt, and now his fingers are tracing the moist edge of my sex, but it feels so natural, and the floating feeling in my belly seems to encourage this touch.

And as much as that feeling demands of me, I'm in control, and if I want to savor this experience for a while longer, I will.

There's an unfamiliar ache from deep inside my sex, an ache that seems soothed by the way his fingers slide against me. When he stops, the ache grows, and when he slides his hand down inside my panties, covering my pussy, I press back slightly.

My heart has begun to race, and I feel short of breath. I wonder, idly, why this is, when I haven't been exerting myself. I relax, parting my lips and forcing myself to breath normally. My sex seems to have become even more slippery, judging from the way his fingers are sliding around, and to have become even more sensitive at the same time.

I feel him move, and suddenly his face is before mine, lips close. Mine are still parted from breathing heavily, and his just fit into place... I find myself responding, my jaw moving in time to his. I lift my left hand and run it through his hair.

I hadn't realized that I wanted to kiss him until we began, and now I start to lose myself in it. His closeness is exciting, and my heart is pounding. I feel the muscles in my thighs begin to tense without my conscious effort. As they tighten against his hand, the sensations increase suddenly, and I groan as they flow out into my body.

Recognizing dimly that I'm becoming overwhelmed, I break my lips from his. "Enough," I whisper, hoarsely, wriggling away from his fingers, gently pushing his hand away. When he has disengaged, I kiss him briefly on the cheek. "I think that's enough."

He looks disappointed, but seems accepting. "Was that okay?"

I not. "Uh-huh," I say.

"Will you let me do it again sometime?"

"What do you get out of it?" I'm a little puzzled. It isn't like I'm doing anything to him.

"Making you feel good... well, it makes me feel pretty good, too."

I shrug. "Sure," I say. I'd like to add, "maybe in about a half-hour, when I've had chance to recover," but I'm not sure that would be long enough. And we need sleep. "Do you want me to stay tomorrow?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says, "I do."


It takes me a long time to get to sleep. My body seems to glow, but at the same time it aches with a sense of promise unfulfilled. Waves of desire occasionally wash into me, especially if I squeeze my legs together. That rekindles the feeling in me that began when he toyed with my nipples, and I feel drawn to seek the emotions that his fingers brought.

Eventually, I drift away, and dream of flying.


It is Saturday, and I need to catch up with grocery shopping, paying bills, and taking care of the business of an independent life.

Last night keeps intruding into my thoughts. I want to feel that way again. At the same time, I'm disturbed by how my desires seemed to change over the course of events.

I kissed him. I didn't think that was going to happen. Now... yeah, if I admit it, I still want to. I like him a lot, but I didn't think I was ready for kissing. Well, not that kind of kissing.

And... those fantasies of his mouth on my breasts. Do I really want a guy to do that? Even if it's Jake? It makes me uneasy that last night I seemed to want exactly that. The way he flicked his fingers over my nipples, strumming them, almost - maybe that hurt more than I'd realized, and I wanted his moist lips to soothe them.

I'll have to ask him not to do that.

Still, I can't help feeling a little euphoric when I think how warm and exciting the whole evening was. Tonight... that might be nice, too.


We went out for pizza after I was done with my errands. Back at Jake's place I gave him a quick kiss on the lips. I'm still not sure whether I want to kiss him like I did last night. Yet. I'm sure I will, one day soon. I really do like him. I guess I realized that today.

"Tired?" he asks.

I grin at him and pick up my bag. "Nope," I say, and head to the bathroom to change.

Lying on my back, I watch him as he gets into bed. He moves close, takes my fingers and kisses them. I hold his hand for a moment, then kiss him lightly on the lips when I release it to stroke his chest.

As his fingers trace up my arm and over my shoulder, I drop my hand back to my side, and watch as his touch tracks down by breastbone and up to the edge of my right breast. Soon it settles into a firm rhythm, with his thumb against my nipple.

"Go easy on it," I whisper.

"Does it hurt?"

I shake my head. "No, but I don't want it to."

"Is this okay?" he asks, rubbing my nipple between thumb and finger.

"Uh-huh," I say, as I feel it swell to tautness.

His fingers stop in their travel to my left breast, playing with the gap between the buttons of my top, touching the bare edge of my boobs. I give him an amused frown, and he continues on to knead my left breast until both of my nipples are erect. Then he toys with each, and I feel the now-familiar desire for him to do more than just touch through my pajamas...

"That's enough," I whisper, "for now."

In response, his hand leaves my chest and starts to wander, caressing my belly through my top, then under the material, his fingernails tickling my stomach and waist.

Soon enough it is drifting over my legs, and between them. His fingers stroke for a while, then his palm settles over the outside of my pajama bottoms, pressing lightly, then cupping and squeezing in a slow but steady motion.

Warmth steals into my sex, the motion gathering tendrils of pleasure in the pit of my stomach.

For quite a time he keeps this up, just gently, light but steady. It's a comfortable touch that seems affectionate, not demanding, and I feel myself at ease with the warmth.

Then he presses a little more firmly, not with his whole hand, but with a finger on either side of my sex, moving the sides of my sex up and down. Still a gentle motion, but with an exhilarating edge.

He movies his fingers back, to caress my belly, drawing his nails around and down to my panty line. I suppress a shiver as the sharp touch tickles, relaxing only when his fingers slip down inside my panties.

I'm surprised at how lubricated my sex has become as his fingertips slide against it, and at how welcome the smooth touch is as he again works a finger on each side of my sex, before moving further in, flattening his hand against my pussy.

"Take them off," he whispers.

"What?" I ask, sharply.

"It'll be more comfortable," he insists. "Really."

I lie there, in some shock. He's asking me to get naked - well, to take off my underwear. That wasn't my intention. But he's right, his hand is pretty much trapped, and my panties are digging into me. For a moment I think I'll tell him to end it, right now. But... I like what he's doing, and I don't like the discomfort, so, "okay," I say, reluctantly.

He withdraws his hand as I sit up to work my pajama pants and panties down, dropping them on the floor. Then I lie down and try to feel less tense as Jake resumes his touch.

I wonder - not for the first time - why am I doing this? Why, when we barely have a relationship, am I wanting him to touch me in that most private of places? But he keeps caressing the lips of my sex, and the glow in my belly keeps growing.

I'll stop him, soon. When I'm thinking calmly, I might even decide that I don't want to do this again. But for now - for a little while, at least - I'm going to enjoy what he's doing.

And I do enjoy it. Soon I'm not thinking about being uncomfortable, or about where he shouldn't be touching me, I'm just basking in the emotional warmth. I lift my knees, parting them slightly, to take away the last of the tension in my sex.

Jake releases me for a moment, to roll back far enough to free his left hand, which he slides up from my hip to my waist, then returns his fingers to my pussy. He's pressing quite firmly now with two fingers, sliding them far down to the edge of my sex, then up, moving in circles, a motion which is delightfully stimulating.

My breathing is becoming heavy. As yesterday, I realize I'm becoming out of breath without working hard. I force myself to relax, my face turning to Jake's as I part my lips to breathe, my heart fluttering.

He moves his face to mine, and our lips brush. I feel an electric charge in my chest, and chase his mouth with mine. He confounds my desire for a moment, but then moves closer, and our lips mesh.

Taking the back of his head in my left hand, I hold him close. His tongue brushes my lips. My breathing is becoming shallow, and as I extend my tongue to meet his, I feel the electricity in my chest again. I kiss him hungrily, and as I do, his fingers delve into my sex. My body shudders as he presses firmly against me, and I feel a low sound form in my throat.

Just as yesterday, I recognize that I'm becoming overwhelmed, but before I can say or do anything, his hand leaves my pussy and grips my waist. My body rebels; my thighs tighten against non-existent pressure, but I'm slowly regaining control.

He takes his lips from mine. "You okay?" he asks, softly.

"Yeah," I say, and pull his face back to mine. Without of the immediacy of his attentions between my legs, I don't feel a need to restrain myself, and kiss him with enthusiasm.

And when his hand makes its way up from my waist to my left breast, I welcome it, even though he's kneading and squeezing more insistently than ever, pinching my nipple into tight swelling.

By the time he releases my breast, I feel that I've recovered some of the sense of intimacy that I lost when he stopped fondling my sex, and although we kiss more slowly, my breathing is heavy.

He's caressing my belly with the fingers of both hands. It takes me a moment to recognize what he's doing, and by then he's unfastened a couple of buttons. The way I'm feeling now, I don't want to stop him. The idea excites me.

He doesn't wait for the last button. I feel his hand slide around my breast, and the touch sends a jolt of pleasure through me. He kneads gently but insistently, his movements kindling the heat in my belly.

Then he breaks his lips from mine, and kisses my neck and my chest. His left hand tugs at my last button while his lips touch my collarbone, and almost before I know that he has succeeded, he's pushed my top aside and started kissing my breast.

Looking down, I'm surprised at how large my nipple has become... but I only see it for a moment, before it disappears between his lips. And then I'm surprised at how sensitive it has become, as he suckles, stirring unfamiliar thrills throughout my body. My sex feels like it's becoming tighter and more sensitive - tensing the muscles of my thighs sends little sparks of feeling through it, and makes me want him to touch me there again.

Which, right now, might be a bad idea. I'm enjoying this greatly, but I really do need to draw it to a close soon. If we don't ease off, that will be even sooner. So I lower my hands to my sides, close my eyes, and breathe slowly and deeply.

It helps - a little. The intensity of my feelings seem more manageable, but the depth... the more Jake kisses my breasts, especially when he switches sides and sucks my right nipple erect, the more he stokes my inner fire.

Maybe he senses that from my labored breathing, because he rolls away. When I open my eyes he's lying on his side just looking at me, the fingers of his right hand just gently toying with my left nipple.

Watching him, my emotions are confused. I'm calm. Surprisingly calm for the way my heart is racing. It's a superficial layer of tranquility, though, feeling both wonderfully peaceful and precariously close to unrestrained passion. Coupled, still, with the need for restraint; the need not to yield to the demands of that barely-contained passion - whatever they are.

Jake rubs my nipple again, then trails his hand back down my stomach and over my pussy. I am very wet there, now, and his touch is silky. He reaches low, then follows the edge of my sex higher, caressing.

Higher still, his fingers probe around. I feel them stroke my clit. My heart leaps and I stop breathing as at the shock of pure pleasure, then let out a shuddering gasp. Though he moves away, the inflamed tingle remains. My clit has become hard, and extremely sensitive - and I yearn for him to touch it again.

Which he does, after a time. And then again. And soon, every slow stroke brushes firmly against it. I find myself pressing against his hand in the same rhythm. My breathing is shallow, and my breasts ache for his touch.

It's time. It has to be. I have to... I can't... We need to stop, now, while there's still a trace of that tranquil feeling within me...

"Jake," I say, quietly, my voice husky.

His large dark eyes hold mine for a moment, then he moves his face to mine, covering my lips with his...

My desire is so strong, I don't even try to correct his understanding. I have to have his tongue, his mouth, his lips. I have to match his movements, rocking my head in time to the tightening of my thighs. His fingers slide into my sex, hand pressed down against my clit, squeezing, sliding in time to our shared beat.

As his left hand closes on my right breast, I feel a groan begin deep in my throat. He squeezes hard, thumb against my nipple. I move automatically, now, my body acting on its own. There is only his tongue against mine, his fingers around my nipple, his hand against the raw, swollen, center of my pleasure...

The focus of my world, now...

Then he stops.

His fingers move back to my clit, and he keeps up a gentle pressure on it, and leaves his hand cupping my breast, but he stops moving. His lips part from mine, leaving me moaning as I breathe. "Ohhhwww... ohhhhwww... ohhhwww..."

Though he's not moving against me, I keep up what I was doing, and the touch of his fingers against my clit becomes more positive as I press forward. Rocking my hips rubs my clit even more strongly against him, and my own motion spurs me on. My heart pounds behind my tight, tender breasts, and my breath comes in ragged bursts.

"Ohhhwww... Awwww!... Awwww!..."

Jake moves again, his lips descending to my left breast, and he sucks my nipple, clamping it gently between his teeth. My body twists inside. "Ngggh!" I groan. He pinches my clit as I push harder against his hand, and I cry out, "AH! AH!"

My movements have lost any semblance of regulation. I'm thrusting quickly against him - and something is happening to me. A tension - a growing bubble of tightness, deep in my sex, that's unlike anything I've ever felt - even here, with Jake. It scares me some. Enough that I stop moving, though my clit aches for the growing intensity...

But as I stop moving my hips, Jake flicks my nipple with his tongue, and rubs thumb and finger against my clit. The bubble stretches further, making me squirm in passionate anxiety.

"Oh, God, Jake," I groan. "Aahh! Aahh... what are you doing to me?"

And the bubble bursts. My sex throbs with hard, fast quakes of ecstasy. Still working his fingers, still sucking and squeezing my breasts, Jake makes my body writhe in delight, my back arching, my breasts trembling with pleasure.

As my sex pulsates, slower waves of passion break into me, and I move with them, pressing hard agaihst Jake with each. "Aaaah!" I call out, overwhelmed. "Aaaah!"

Jakes touch still feels glorious, and he eases off only as the fervent energy within me begins to subside. I feel - complete. Satiated. Happy.

When Jake releases my breast, I draw him close and kiss him. Not a kiss of need or passion, this time, but affection. Kissing him is what I want do to. And, I suspect, what I'll keep wanting to do after tonight is over.

For now, the night is not over. Now that I know how an orgasm can feel, I want another. And I want him to have one, too. So, next time, I want him to use something other than his finger...

Yes, I'm naive. Being naive often gets me into trouble. But once in a while, it can make for a wonderful surprise.