Realism Fan Fiction ❯ She, And Her Story ❯ She, And Her Story ( One-Shot )

She sighed. Home at last! Her hand immediately reached for her cell phone and speed dialed her beloved.
”Hello” her boy answered.
”Hey. It took forever.”
”You done now? Gonna come over?”
”Yeah, I'll be there in a few”
”Alright.”
”….. I love you.”
”You too.”

They hung up together. She practically tore herself out of her dress and threw on the top she was wearing before. A quick check in the mirror… yes, she was pretty enough. She made eye contact with herself, and blushed, remembering what she said to her friends a few hours earlier…
~~~~
”How was your weekend?” Her pretty friend asked her after a hug.

“Oh, fine. My boy is home. Have you seen…” She hesitated. Her pretty friend had just had a messy ending of a relationship.
”Him? Oh yeah….we, er…”

Her pretty friend proceeded to tell her that she and her now-ex-boyfriend met under pretense of going to a movie, and ended up never arriving. They decided sex in the back of his car would be more enjoyable than a movie. Her pretty friend seemed really torn up about it, so she didn't press the matter.

A second friend came by. She hugged the her and her pretty friend.
”Hey girls. What's up? Are you staying the whole night?”
”No.” Her pretty friend answered.
”No, I'm planning on seeing my boy,” she answered with a smirk.
”Oooohhh do tell” the second friend whispered.

The three girls went to a more secluded spot to gossip. She was excited to talk, since she felt like she really needed to say it or she would burst. Her pretty friend kept trying to tell her own story about the back of the car, but the second friend shushed her, annoyed at the interruptions.

”Well…” She started, trying to find the right words. “Well, we were hanging around yesterday. Then, we went bowling with some of his friends. We were joking around, saying things like `if you get a strike I'll do this,' that kind of thing. One of the guys said to another `if you hit all but the front pin, I'll suck you.' And… well, I was caught up in the moment, so I whispered to my boy the same thing.”

She paused as her friends giggled and tried their hardest to quiet themselves before she continued.

”And,” she muttered, blushing, “he did it. He looked at me, and mouthed `you owe me.' Well, a promise is a promise, right?”

Her friends squealed in a fit of laughter.

~~~~

She stood in his doorway. Hearing footsteps, she hastily adjusted herself a bit before her boy opened the door.

He smiled. She ran up to him and hugged him tightly, in a cute manner. He put his arm around her, and led her to the couch, their usual spot. She grinned ear to ear as they lay down on the couch together, and flipped on the television. She wasn't focusing on the movie in front of her, though. She had her mind set on him, whose arm was lazily scratching her back, as her head rested on his strong chest. Trying to keep herself from falling asleep in that peaceful stupor, she leaned up to look at him. She found his eyes were closed. Sensing her movement, he looked at her, and grinned.

Their lips met. They kissed lightly, then harder, then deeper still. Their lips danced together, their tongues waltzed, and it was magical. When they kissed like this, it was hard to tell where she ended and he began, or where he ended and she began. They became one. Their souls intertwined, as did hands, legs, and whole bodies. When it broke, they stared deeply into one another. She felt his heart beating beneath her. She was sure he could feel hers too.

 

Suddenly, they switched places. She found herself beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, running over his back. He smirked, and she knew what was coming next. He attacked, and she felt the familiar sensation on her neck. He bit, none too gently, and her whole body reacted. Her fingers curled, her hips twitched, and she gripped him tighter. Encouraged, he continued to attack her neck as if he were some kind of vampire, and in her was his life. Her breath quickened, and she winced as he pit particularly hard. He moved away, stealing a glance at her, as she fluttered her eyes open, and her chest rose and fell. His eyes twinkled as he bent over to continue. This time, his hands joined in the fray, running over her chest, then beneath her shirt. She couldn't hold back the soft “Oh!” as his fingers found her bare chest, and her most sensitive spots. Soon his mouth replaced his fingers, and her legs twitched and tensed. This time, she stole a glance at him, and she watched him kiss her exposed chest with as much compassion as he did with her lips.

He stopped, and looked at her. She felt the heat in her cheeks, and didn't meet his gaze for a moment. He rested on her chest as she had done to him. She couldn't seem to stop her mind from buzzing. She found her hands roaming over his smooth back, eventually finding their way beneath his black shirt, where she felt soft skin, like butter soft leather. She felt him sigh. He looked at her. They kissed again. They kissed and kissed, until she was sure her lips would never be able to kiss again. When they broke apart, they simply looked at one another. She shifted her weight slightly, and to her amazement, his breath hitched. She did so again, purposely, and he retaliated by shifting his own hips against her. They continued in a shaky, hesitant rhythm for a few moments.

They switched again. She rolled over to be above him, and she rested her legs one on each side of his. The heat between her legs pressed against the bulge between his. His breath hitched again, and his eyes closed momentarily, the small smile fading into nothingness. She made sure he was looking at her, when without warning, her shirt ended up on the floor. He stared at her, a strange bewilderment in his eye. She leaned over to kiss him, but he was hesitant. He broke it quickly. She stared into his eyes. His eyes looked from her, then down to her chest, then up again. She laughed. Somehow, this is what she wanted. He was confused as to where to look, what to do, what instinct to follow. This is what she wanted. She didn't know she wanted it until it happened. She sat up again, pressing her heat to his hardness. She threw her head back and rocked her hips, and he rocked against her. This continued for a few moments, until he paused, and breathed audibly, heavily. Her eyes glanced at the watch he had given her, which caressed her wrist. There was time. She slid herself down his legs a bit. He reopened his eyes, but she couldn't look at him. Her hands fell to his waist, where she busied herself by freeing his obvious pain. At last it opened, and she slid the waist of his denim jeans downward, until she saw him pressing against black boxer briefs. Still unable to meet his gaze, her hand hesitantly reached out and rubbed against the bulge gently. Her fingers danced over the shape. He was ready for her.

Slowly, her fingers curled over the waistband, and curled them down. It sprang forth, and the image of it filled her eyes, she could feel her pupils widening to take it in. I looked tense, tense to the point of pain. She felt a new emotion now. She felt pity. She pitied his pain, his obvious need. She brought him this far, and she couldn't leave him in pain now. Her hands grasped it. It felt like a sword; a hard, warm sword sheathed in soft leather or velvet. She licked her lips. As she got closer, the smell was stronger. It smelled primal, and beautiful in its own right. She kissed it. She let her tongue taste it. The wetness that pooled at the top was not altogether unpleasant, but not the best taste either. Even so, she found her body wanted more of that strange, somewhat bittersweet taste. She took the tip into her mouth. If he was reacting, she couldn't tell. It was as if that step had turned off the rest of the world. All that mattered was this organ in her hands, this sensitiveness she held in her mouth, the power in front of her. Her tongue waltzed around it, doing what came naturally. She explored it, rather than with her eyes like she had meant to earlier, but with her tongue. More of that bittersweet liquid caught her taste buds. She felt her heart quicken. She took as much as she could into her mouth. She felt the thickness fill her petite mouth; her full lips formed a seal around it. She felt the soft and delicate tip graze the roof of her mouth, and touch against the soft palette in the back of her throat. She swallowed. She felt him twitch. More of that liquid drizzled over her throat. Her hands tensed around the base of it, the parts she could not take insider her lips. She sucked. She ran the organ over her teeth, through her lips, along the inside of her mouth. She felt like it was instinct to do this, to suckle it as if she were a babe, longing for the taste of life. She swallowed more and more as her own saliva filled her mouth, brought out by the organ filling her mouth. Time was no longer a factor. All she knew was it seemed like too soon, or maybe not soon enough, she felt the thing beneath her fingers shift, a change came over it. She knew what was going to happen a second before it happened. She pulled back slightly, expecting it. A hot, bitter liquid, unpleasant but not unbearable, shot through to the back of her throat. She swallowed it all, as soon as it touched the soft part in the very back of her throat, knowing she did not want the taste to linger in her mouth. Again, another spray of the strange, sticky and wet substance filled her throat and she swallowed. The thick thing between her cheeks continued to weep and drizzle the nectar, and she swallowed again and again. It was as if someone turned the volume on again. His voice filled her ears. He was making a low, humming sound, strained and unlike any sound she had heard him make before. Her lips trailed over the slowly calming organ, until they only resided on the tip, where she licked the remains of his seed, and swallowed. She managed to look up at him. He looked down. His eyes closed again, and that look of pleasure and pain filled his face again. Before she could form the question on her lips, he replied.

”Thank You.”

It was soft, low, and possibly not even directed at her.

~~~~

The second friend saw her first. She looked at the second friend, who looked back with a knowing smile. She grinned sheepishly. Her throat still burned from the night before. It felt as if she had drunk a boiling cup of water, and her throat was seared… but it didn't hurt. It was the aftermath of burning, the tingling tenderness that came after the pain.

Her pretty friend ran up to her.
”Soo….?” Her pretty friend asked.


She merely nodded. She knew her pretty friend wouldn't understand how she felt, even if her pretty friend had more experience than she did. Her pretty friend was too experienced to comprehend what it was like. She felt like she was a different person.

It wasn't until much later that she realized… she wasn't sure if she liked this new person.

Her pretty friend seemed to sense this. Her pretty friend pulled her aside.

”Don't think about me. What I did was wrong. What you did was beautiful. You love him, don't you? I mean, you really love him?” Her pretty friend looked deep into her eyes.

She looked back, and realized, being different didn't change who she was, or how she felt about her boy.

”Yes. I love him. Like I've never loved before.”