I can’t believe I’m at Jason’s house again. It was only three days ago that we’d officially met, after he was introduced to me by a friend/co-worker. We had texted at first, and then we’d spoken over the phone. He had guessed right off the bat that I was a virgin. In fact he had asked me because something I said had triggered his “virgin-senses”. I wasn’t hiding that I was a twenty-four year old virgin, but I wasn’t advertising the info either. I found that when guys found that out they either thought something was wrong with me or they wanted to make it their mission to be my first.

And here I was again. His house ... my house ...and I’m at his front door again. I raise my hand to knock on the glass as I don’t want to disturb his roommate with the doorbell. The door opens before I even have a chance to meet knuckle with glass.

“Hi Yalina, I’m so glad you could make it.” Jason says as he opens the door with a smirk on his face. This man seems to have the super power to make me puddle just by looking at me. It’s so damn sexy, like he has a constant secret that he’s dying to share with me. He’s standing opening the door, baggy Nike sweatpants on, shirt already off, abs tight as he’s bracing against the wind. He’s freshly showered and I can smell the Dove men’s soap on his moist, chocolate skin. He’s like a Jamaican-version of a Greek god standing in front of me. At twenty-eight years old, he looks like a cool drink of water. Ripe for the mounting, my inner-self notes.

I remain standing on the porch, part hoping for the cold, arctic winds to blow me away and make the choice for me. The other part wishing he’d pull me into his strong, muscular, well-tattooed arms to keep me from blowing away. Neither of my scenarios happens, of course.

“Are you going to come in, or shall I have my way with you out there for the neighbours to see?” he asks me, still with that damn smirk. I shake my head as my imagination begins to take flight with that image.

I finally find my voice, “Hi to you, too, Jason. No one will be having their way with anyone today, sir. And besides, you know I’m not that kind of girl.”

“Whatever you say, sexy. But you know you’re going to be mine.” It’s a statement he’s used so often in our conversations that I’m actually starting to believe it. He’s even held me by the chin, looked me in the eyes, and repeated this statement, making sure I understood every word he enunciated. As a communications major, I definitely understood what he was saying. There goes another puddle. Maybe it’s some sort of reverse psychology he’s using on me. But damn him, it’s working.

I step into the foyer, remove my boots, jacket, and trapper hat. Underneath, I’m wearing navy wide-leg jeans and a tight black t-shirt. My breasts were definitely made to be shown in this shirt and now that my jacket is off the nipples are standing at full attention. With the black lace bra I have on, everything is on full display. Jason stands back and admires me as I undress my arctic couture, letting out a soft whistle.

I ignore him and make my way to the living room, a room I’ve gotten very familiar with over the past few days. “No, not in there,” Jason says as he puts his arm around my waist to stop my movements. “Upstairs.”

Another statement. As our eyes meet and linger for longer than normal the electricity is charged between us. It’s like he’s told me everything he’s ever wanted to say to me in those few moments where nothing was said. Our eyes said it all. And just as I was about to break the minuscule embrace, that’s when he leaned down and gently brushed his lips on mine. Whoa, more electricity! It’s the lightest of kisses, one reserved for couples who have been together for decades instead of just a few days. Hell, we weren’t even officially a couple yet. His lips are so soft, especially for such a muscular man who is in construction. He’s not super built, but his chiseled stomach and strong arms are evidence that he works out a bit. I, on the other hand, am not in the greatest of shape. Granted, I do swim and play soccer and volleyball at the community centre, but that’s about the extent of my physical activity. From those activities, my legs are fairly toned and you can see the muscle flinch when I stand a certain way. Yes, my legs are definitely my best asset. But if you ask any man, they’d say it’s my chest as my breasts are extremely large.

Jason still has his hand around my waist and he’s pulling me into his embrace to deepen the kiss. I have to place my hands on his chest so that my breasts are not pushed into his pecks. He’s all man: solid, warm, and wanting me. He feels me push against him and lifts his head to stop the kiss. Still looking down at me, our faces mere inches apart, lids slightly closed, he whispers, “Upstairs, please.”

I look in his eyes and I can see he’s pleading with me. From our phone conversations, he knows I’m a stubborn, head-strong, independent woman. But right now he’s got me puddling in my most sensitive of areas. I tear myself away from his gaze and look up the winding staircase. Obviously it’ll only lead to his bedroom and I’m not sure I’m ready for such an intimate space. I look back at his chocolate liquid pools for eyes and I see he can tell I’m struggling with the decision. He waits patiently for me to come to my senses; waits for me to give in to him.

I take three or four steps back from him, almost toward the foyer where my winter gear is safely stashed. All the while I’m watching him watch me and the look on his face turns to shame and hurt as he realizes that he’s scared me off already. Then it turns I stop and realize what I’m doing. What I always do: I’m running away ... again.

No, Yalina, not this time, not again! I scream inside my head. I don’t want to be alone forever, and I certainly don’t want to live without knowing a man’s touch. And here was a fine specimen of a man waiting patiently for me to come to him.

With my internal battle over, I slowly gesture for him to lead the way upstairs. His face couldn’t have broken into a bigger smile as he realizes that I’m accepting his invitation to follow him upstairs. He stretches out his hand for me to take it, the final act of my obedience. I take it slowly, but it’s so warm and inviting when we connect. He threads our fingers together, a slight symbol of what he has planned. I feel like a timid mare being led to the stable of the waiting stallion.

We reach his room and I look around, silently comparing it to my own bedroom. It’s lightly furnished, but what did I expect of a man living with roommates. There is a dresser with a TV facing the lonely bed in the middle of the wall. A rich brown wardrobe dominates the other side of the wall, accompanied by a single ottoman (the only available seat) covered with shoe boxes. Note to self, he likes shoes.

He does a quick flip onto the bed, lies down in his usual spot as it’s indented there, and lightly pats the spot beside him, gesturing for me to join him. As I see no other option unless I want to stand by the door, I join him on the bed. He flicks on the TV to the sports channel. I don’t mind as we originally bonded over our love for sports.

After ten minutes of us discussing the latest sports stats and voicing our opinions of who we think will win the Super Bowl, I say, “This pillow isn’t doing a thing for my back. It’s too damn flat!”

Jason looks at me and says, “Come lie in my arms. It’ll elevate your neck and relieve the pressure on your back. Plus, you’ll be closer to me.” There’s that smirk again. But I can’t resist that smirk or his latest invitation to get closer. I snuggle up to him and place my hand on his chest to brace myself as I’m now on my side leaning into him. He closes his arm around me, drawing me closer to his naked torso, practically on top of him. Instant body warmth, and of course, another puddle for me.

He removes my hand from his chest and brings it slowly to his mouth. He starts sucking each finger, one by one, then moves to the centre of my hand. I must say, this man is skilled at making me wet. But as a construction worker by day and a club promoter by night, what did I expect? He’s obviously had some practice with women. He’s watching me as he lavishes my hand with attention. I can’t help but close my eyes and feel the warmth spread from between my thighs all throughout my body.

I can’t help but feel warm.

He sees how he’s affecting me and takes the opportunity to tug at my shirt. I realize his hands are attempting to explore my breasts and my eyes fly open. I shoot straight up, sitting up on the bed. Jason is beside me in an instant, as if we sat up together. He holds me from behind so I can’t move any further away, wrapping his strong arms around me, one around my shoulders, the other around my waist.

He leans into me, and begins nibbling on my ear and sucking my neck. Why does this feel so good, yet so wrong? My inner-self yells. My body is responding differently from what my brain is saying.

Jason can see I am having another internal war. He moves his tongue into my ear and the arm that’s on my shoulder starts to drop to my breasts. As he feels me tensing, he says, “Shhhh, don’t fight it, baby girl. You’ve been so sheltered in your ivory tower of education and rules, you don’t even know when you’re being loved. Let me teach you. Let me bring out the freak that I know is in there. Let me ...” and with that last statement, he squeezes my breasts, his hands down my shirt.

My eyes are pricked with tears. Thankfully he’s behind me and can’t see them. Why am I crying? Partly because it feels so wrong to be feeling so good. And partly because I know what he’s saying is the awful truth. I always push people away. I never give anyone a chance to get even remotely close to me. This has to stop; this will stop today.

I slowly turn to face Jason, all traces of the tears removed from my eyes. He looks into my eyes, searching for what my next response could be. I place a light kiss on his lips, closing the miniscule gap between us. He relaxes into the kiss, then I pull away. Confused, his eyes search mine again for the answer to my mysterious behaviour.

Well, here goes nothing! I say to myself.

“Jason, I want you so badly, you have no idea. But in my heart I know I can’t give it up to you right now, especially since we just met. But at the same time ...” I stop mid-sentence and remove my shirt. He is dumb-struck by my sudden brazenness at the removal of my clothing. “... I want to learn. And I want to be on top.” At least I’ll have some form of control.

Jason’s jaw has dropped open at the sudden view of my lace bra. I’m not sure if he’s heard what I said. Then he leans back on the bed and says, “Ok, sexy. Anything.”

Of course he’d go along with it. What did I expect, him to turn me down? He’s a warm-blooded man, for peets sake. I guess I have to follow through now.

I watch as he stretches out on his side of the bed, never letting our eyes lose the connection. As he holds my hand, he pulls me to follow him. I reluctantly get on my knees and knee-walk across the bed to him. I look down at him and watch as his chest rises slowly in anticipation. Well, get to it girl! Shut up inner-self.

I push his legs together so I can straddle him easily. Once on top, I run my hands over his naked torso, freely exploring his glorious body for the first time. I feel his nipples harden at my touch. I lean in to kiss him and our tongues finally meet in a magnificent reunion, like they’ve been long-lost friends for years. It’s a heated kiss. He bucks his waist and with the movement I am nearly thrown into a position of lying on top of him. Exactly where he wanted me. My body seems to know what it’s doing before my brain does, and I slowly begin to rock on top of him, grinding my hips into his. His hands move around to cup my ass, drawing me even closer to him if that was possible. His hands ... our tongues ... everything seems to be on their own exploration path.

I break the kiss to catch my breath. This is moving so quickly and I don’t really want it to stop. Neither does he from the looks of him. That’s when he says, “Let me see them.” Not even a question, but a command, an action I feel I must comply with.

I lean back from him so that I’m sitting on him again. He has his knees up, almost as if to prevent me from backing up too far and changing my mind. I know exactly what he wants to see as they’ve been between us the entire time. My breasts are still encased in their protective, lacy shell. I look down and see they are heaving from our make-out session, begging to be released to this beautiful man. He bucks his hips as if to urge me on, a reminder that he’s waiting below me.

I slowly remove one strap from a shaking shoulder. He twirls his finger in the air, a sign that I should continue. I remove the other strap and leave them hanging at my side. But as the breasts are still covered by the lace, he puts his hands on my breasts and gently squeezes. As he moves his hands down, he grabs hold of the bottom of my bra and pulls it down toward my waist. My breasts are now free and in full view of him. I watch his eyes as he licks his lips. His eyes move from one breast to the other, trying to decide which one to devour first.

He inches his torso up slowly, more evidence that he is in top physical shape. His mouth nears my breast and opens, ready to receive and taste me. Then he stops, millimetres from my breast as I feel his quick breathing, and looks up at me for approval. I give a slight nod of my head and that‘s all he needs. My breast is in his mouth and I can feel his tongue on my nipple. I let out a quick cry of shock as the new sensation of hands, tongue, teeth, and saliva wash over me. He’s latched onto my breast. I think it’d hurt if I tried to extract it from his jaws of life. But I don’t want to.

I lean into him and he continues to pull me down so again I’m straddling him on top, practically lying on him. His hips are still lifting me up, so I hold onto his headboard to balance and not suffocate him with my massive breasts. I don’t even think he’d mind as he’s loving the taste and feel of my breasts. One breast is being sucked, almost like he’s sucking the life out of me. But it feels so damn good!

I’m moaning involuntarily with the new feelings of being appreciated by this man. I’m also hanging onto his headboard as I’m afraid that with the bucking of his hips he’ll hit my head against the board. By accident, of course.

With my mouth open and my eyes closed, I didn’t realize he had put his two fingers into my mouth. Again, my body knows what to do before my mind is aware, and I begin to suck on his fingers like life-saving medication will come out of them.

“I knew it,” is all Jason says. Knew what, I don’t know. He pulls his fingers from my mouth after a minute and I feel an instant void at the emptiness. He trails his fingers slowly down my neck, over my breast, skimming my stomach and rests them at the top hem of my jeans, which I still have on.

“Relax, babe, you’re going to love this,” And with that, Jason plunges his fingers into my forbidden treasure, where no other man has ever been allowed to venture. How could I let this happen,...