Teen
2003-06-08

Our relationship started with smalltalk during and after rehearsals. She seemed very interested in my work, particularly because she had enjoyed marching band for years in high school. As the season progressed, our conversations became longer, and we began to bump into one another on campus more and more often. Yet, we never talked on what I would consider a personal level, and so I knew very little about Leslie as a person. One day, she called my name from across the university food court and ran to my side. She immediately stuck out her tongue and waited for a reaction. To my surprise, I was forced to notice the gleaming silver barbell pierced therein. "You've got the mumps?" I commented in a nonchalant, playful way. She hit me firmly on the arm, feigning distress. "No, stupid, I got my tongue pierced! Some friends of mine and I went to New Orleans this weekend, and I couldn't resist! I've always wanted to do it. ""That's not going to help your playing much. Why did you want to pierce your tongue?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. "I don't know. I've just always wanted to. It's cool," she replied. "Cool enough," I said, and the conversation moved on it's way.

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We talked about her trip and the things that she had done, though she seemed disappointed that her party options were somewhat abbreviated due to her age. I explained how nice it was to finally reach twenty-one, and she mentioned that I should let her know the next time I would be drinking and to send an invite her way. At our private university, this sort of comment was perfectly legitimate and did not at all lead me to believe that she was interested in me personally. Throughout history, the young and underprivileged have consistently sought out friendships with those older than they in order to attain contraband, and it didn't help that our campus was amongst other things completely dry by regulation. As an aside, the university also disallowed the entry of females into male dormitories and vice versa. I told her that I would be sure to let her know, and after a few goodbyes, she was gone. Later that Friday afternoon at a hot and humid rehearsal, the director had gotten bogged down working with the woodwind section on a particular part. I was, as usual, walking around the field with clipboard in hand, making notes about the music when I passed Leslie. She was wearing a tiny tanktop and short athletic shorts, with skin and hair gleaming of sweat. I nudged her with my shoulder as I passed, and we began to chat. "Hot enough for you?" I asked. "Yeah," she replied, giggling. "I'm exhausted. " "Well, are you too tired to go with me tonight?" I inquired. "Where are we going?" she said.

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Her use of the word "we" made me feel as if she had already decided in the affirmative. I explained to her that I would be traveling about 30 miles south to hear one of my high school bands perform a half-time show that I had arranged, and I that I would enjoy the company. I added that 'frosty beverages' would be provided afterwards if we could find a suitable place off campus to drink. She said that she'd love to go, smiled, and commenced to flicking her tongue bar across her teeth. "Great. How's the tongue ring working out?" I added. "It's SO cool," she said. "It's weird how the metal gets cold whenever I drink something. ""That must make your boyfriend happy," I suggested, flashing a sly grin that I hoped would effectively convey my meaning. "Oh, I'm not dating anyone," she replied. "Cool," I said. Just then the director called back a new starting point to the rest of the band, and I moved back out of the formation. She smiled, and took her position. After rehearsal was over, we made plans to meet in the campus quad around 6 o'clock. She showed up on time wearing a pair of tight, low-rise cordourory jeans and a short, baby cut t-shirt.

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Her beautiful navel was clearly exposed, as the bottom of the shirt fell only a few inches below the bottom of her bustline. Her tiny nipples were clearly pressed against the fabric, leading me to assume that she either wasn't wearing a bra or was wearing only a very thin one with light seams. I studied her perfection from top to bottom as she approached, smiling and waving from across the quad. We set out for the high school, talked casually throughout the first half of a football game in which we had no interest, and then she accompanied me down to the sidelines to observe the band's pre-show warm-up. The director introduced me to the students, and during his impromptu speech I noticed many of the male band members eyeing Leslie and grinning. Her countenance screamed eroticism as she stood there respectfully, flicking her tongue ring against the bottoms of her front teeth. After the show, we left the stadium quickly and began the drive back to our town. I asked if she was still interested in drinking somewhere, and she said that she was. We considered many options, but each presented problems for one reason or another.

Finally, she suggested a hotel room. Again, this was a normal option for those seeking alcoholic solice and didn't come off as obviously suggestive as it may to the reader. I agreed, we pooled together our cash, stopped off at a liquor store, and picked an appropriately priced establishment. We settled into the room which was equipped with a double bed, small writing desk, a table and chairs, and bathroom, as Leslie threw down her purse onto the bed. We broke open the bottle of Smirnoff which we had purchased already chilled, and she poured glasses of half vodka and half tonic. I flipped on the TV, and we began to talk and drink.

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Drink after drink disappeared, and I could already feel quite a buzz. I figured that she certainly must be feeling the same, though she didn't show it. During the conversation, I noticed Leslie take an ice cube from the bucket and place it into her mouth. I asked if the ice bothered her tongue ring, and she explained how interesting the sensation was when the ice chilled the metallic bar. I agreed that it must be a unique feeling and as casually as possible commented that it must be equally arousing to kiss someone who had an ice-cold tongue piercing. "Do you want to find out?" she asked. "I've been dying to kiss someone with it ever since I first got it pierced. " "Well. . . er. . . yeah. I mean, of course I would," I stammered, a bit surprised at her enthusiasm.

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Just watching her throughout the night had already gotten me pretty excited, and the combination of alcohol and positive responses from Leslie was doing amazing things to my confidence. I got up from my chair and walked over to hers. I knelt beside where she was sitting and slowly, without another word, began to move in closely. Just centimeters from connecting to her lips, she smiled clearly and placed a hand on the back of my head. We maintained this distance for a few moments and she teased me with her breath and the slight opening and closing of her lips and teeth. I finally pressed my lips to hers, and she immediately opened her mouth and kissed me deeply. Our warm tongues explored one another, enhanced by the foreign sensation of her cold metal tongue bar. She stroked it masterfully against my tongue, and the kiss became for both of us simultaneously more passionate. She wrapped both arms around me and guided me back slightly in order to move herself from the chair. We continued kissing fervently as we became seated on the floor. I could now completely embrace her and my cock began to rise with a strength previously unmatched. When the kiss finally broke, we sat there panting in a momentary state of shock. Never before was a first kiss so intuitive for me, and we both felt a connection on a deeper level. We laughed and drank a few more sips, talking about the amazing nature of the experience. All subtlety was immediately cast aside, and I felt as if I had known her for years.

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She raised her t-shirt from her small, hardening nipples and lifted it over her head. I gazed, marvelling at her beautifully round breasts which seemed to stand unbelievably high against all known laws of gravity. We kissed again, ever deeper and more forcibly. My lips moved to her neck, and I licked her gently. She moaned audibly and pulled me tightly against her. I raised her up and led her to the bedside. Standing, she reached around me and grasped my shirt, lifting it over my head. She tossed it aside and immediately returned to my fly, unfastening the button and releasing the zipper with a sense of blatant urgency. My fully erect penis finally found freedom, as she reached inside my jeans and struggled to expel its length and girth from inside. Her reaction to seeing it conveyed both feelings of surprise and delight, and she commented that it was quite a bit bigger than those she had previously seen. Her tiny fingers could barely encircle the shaft, and for a moment her eyes seemed frozen, staring at and examining carefully all nine inches of my greatest blessing. This jolt to my confidence gave me a newfound energy, and I kissed her again, pressing my throbbing length against her bare, flat stomach. She fell to her knees and, while holding her thumb and forefinger in a ring around the base of my cock, began to lick the underside of my shaft. She flicked her cold tongue bar lightly against it, sending shivers of pleasure throughout my body. She slapped my dick against her outstretched tongue and then engulfed the tip with her warm lips.

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She sucked fervently and simultaneously stroked me with both hands. She took the better part of me deep into her throat and looked up at me as she did. She stared into my eyes as she worked, bobbing back and forth against me with muffled moans. Feeling the pressure begin to build, I pulled out of her mouth and reached for her fly. I unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down the short low-rise track, while she pulled on each leg to more quickly slip them off. As she stepped out of the legs, a tiny, cotton thong was all that remained. Her olive skin was exponentially accentuated by its contrast to the pure white fabric. Before I knew it, she had kicked it off to reveal a dripping, completely shaven pussy. We stood there naked, facing one another, smiling with mutual intent. I kissed her deeply and then turned her around and pushed her onto the bed. She landed on her hands, face down against the comforter. I finally had a full view of her tiny ass which was tight and pert. A tiny tattoo of a dragonfly was perched just an inch or so from the top of of her crevasse, and she reached behind her and guided the tip of my penis into her burning pussy. The insertion was achingly slow at first, as she was obviously extremely tight and unused to the size of my manhood. She bit and pulled at the bed's comforter as I reached deeper and deeper within.

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Moaning loudly and stretching out, she began to work her ass back and forth, slowly at first but with increasing speed. Her face was buried against the blankets, and her beautiful back arched up to where her body met mine. Her spine could be clearly delineated, and the nape of her neck was gorgeous beyond my imagination. I grasped her hips and used them for leverage as I pushed inside her almost to the hilt. She screamed with pleasure and pain, and commanded me to fuck her. As my impending climax would arise, I pulled slowly out and rubbed my shaft in long, deliberate strokes against her clit. Then, with each reinsertion, she would moan and press back hard in order to be filled. In this way we made love for half an hour or more, and with each minute the speed and force increased. We began to sweat, and I could feel my balls slapping against her clit in a constant rhythm to the melody that was our moans. Eventually the pressure was too intense, and I pulled out for good in order to preserve and strengthen my eventual climax. She pulled me over to the center of the bed and stroked my towering penis a few times with her hand before stretching one leg over my body. She straddled me, facing away from me with her back to my face, and continued stroking me with her tiny fingers. She spit on her hand to decrease the friction, and then stood above me. As she lowered herself onto my cock, I could feel her shutter with pleasure. She ever so slowly worked all the way down, taking for the first time my entire length inside her.

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Immediately she jolted and tightened up, letting out a long, blood-curdling scream. Then she began to raise and lower herself on her knees and I reached what was thereto an unrivaled nirvana. She began to buck wildly up and down, emitting short, loud moans on each pass. Fingering her clit as she bounced high on my rod, I felt the strains of her orgasm rush through her tight cunt. Streams of burning juice ran out over my balls, stomach, and thighs as she moaned and giggled and shook upon me. The tightening was too much, and I shouted that I was going to cum. She bounced off and turned toward me. She reached out with her right hand and began to stroke my shaft with excitement in her eyes. She laughed delightedly as I clinched the comforter on both sides and released my first shot high into the air. She opened her mouth and leaned over to catch the second and third shots both on her face and in her mouth. Swallowing, she continued giggling as burst after burst leapt from my penis. I came consistently in this way for over a minute, and she took several more loads into her mouth and onto her face and breasts. She massaged my cock as the climax subsided, and we kissed deeply. We lay there holding one another and kissing for a long time before falling asleep. The morning brought with it another go in the shower, and though Leslie and I made love many times over the course of the semester, no sexual encounter with her ever felt so amazingly intense as that very first time.