Lydia

I had been thrilled, brimming with nervous energy, my heart pounding in my chest. This was it. Ben and I had talked about this moment for weeks, our excitement mounting with every stolen kiss and whispered promise. The build-up had been intoxicating, full of late-night texts, flushed cheeks, and lingering touches. Both of us were eager, almost desperate. We had planned it carefully, ensuring we would have the house to ourselves. His dad was away, leaving the place empty, silent, ours. Ben had lost his mum a few years back, before I had known him, but that absence meant there were plenty of opportunities where we would have the house to ourselves. We had dashed up to his room, adrenaline surging through my veins, our hands clumsy in their urgency. Clothes hit the floor in record time, laughter spilling from our lips as excitement overtook nervousness. He had thrown me onto the bed, and we had melted into a long, giggly, naked make-out session, our bodies pressing together in a delicious tangle. When I finally gave him the nod, my heart raced even faster, anticipation so sharp it bordered on fear.

He spread my legs wide, positioning himself between them, his fingers trembling slightly as he slid on a condom. As he pushed into me, I gasped, surprised at the unfamiliar stretch and the flood of emotions washing over me. He leaned in, kissing me deeply, his warmth a comfort as I adjusted. It was everything we had built it up to be. The next few minutes passed in a blur, teenage bliss wrapped in eager, inexperienced movements. We were both vocal, lost in the novelty, in the act itself. I clung to the sensation, the idea of it, the whispered expectation that this was meant to be life-changing. And yet, before I could fully immerse myself, it was over. With a grunt and a final thrust, Ben climaxed, his body stilling against mine, shuddering in release.

He grinned at me, his eyes shining, blissfully unaware of my lingering anticipation, my unfulfilled need. "That was amazing," he breathed, his happiness so pure I couldn’t bear to dampen it. So I nodded, swallowing my own disappointment. "Yeah," I murmured, offering a small smile, though inside, something felt unfinished, incomplete. He curled up beside me, drifting off almost immediately, content and satisfied. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming, still waiting for something more.

Eventually, I slipped out of bed, padding to the bathroom in silence. I knew that aiming the shower just right would help bring me the satisfaction I was craving. 

Michael

I lay in bed, hearing the muffled sounds through the thin walls, at first trying to ignore them. My pulse was steady, my body still relaxed, but the noise persisted, soft laughter, whispers, the unmistakable shift of weight on a mattress. I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to will myself to sleep, to block it out. They probably thought I wasn’t home. I wasn’t even supposed to be, after all but my work dinner got rescheduled.

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face, debating whether to get up and leave the house entirely. But my room was next to his, and the old floorboards would betray any movement. The last thing I wanted was to disturb them, I had a pretty good idea it was their first time and I didn't want that to be ruined by a parent accidently being home so I stayed still, my breath even, my muscles slack. Ben was a good kid, and they were both seventeen, old enough to make their own choices. It was just unfortunate that those choices were playing out right next to my room, loudly.

I tried to ignore them but, they pulled at something unbidden inside me. I swallowed, shifting slightly, the heat in my stomach growing almost imperceptibly. I wasn’t sure when exactly it started, when the tension in my shoulders turned into something else, when my body began to react in a way I hadn’t anticipated. At first, it was just discomfort, a residual awkwardness of overhearing something so intimate, but that discomfort soon morphed into something different. My skin prickled, my breath caught, my blood thickened.

I shouldn’t have been listening. I shouldn’t have been feeling this way. But the way the moans wove through the walls, the way the rhythm of movement became unmistakable. It was stirring something deep inside me, something that had been buried for too long. I clenched my fists, pressing my head back against the pillow, willing it away.

Then silence. A brief pause. A laugh. A whispered murmur then quiet leaving the air thick and charged. A break. A pause before they started again. A fresh wave of desperation crashed over me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was already painfully hard, aching with a need that had no place here. I had to get out. Now. Before they started again.

Moving as carefully as I could, I slipped out of bed, every nerve screaming for relief, my only thought to escape before I lost all control. 

Lydia

I grabbed a towel. The shower had been a bust; I realised right away that unlike my one at home, this one was fixed up high. I'd never be able to use it how I wanted without some significant gymnastics. All the short walk across the hall had done was make me even more desperate. I stepped out into the corridor, wrapping the towel around me tightly.

I bumped right into Mr Parks, Ben's dad. He was looking flustered, his face slightly pink, his breath coming a little too fast. His eyes widened in shock as I collided with him. Before I could react, my towel slipped from my grip, pooling at my feet. I let out a small, startled squeak, scrambling to grab it.

Mr Parks turned his head sharply to the side, hands awkwardly held up as if afraid to accidentally touch me. "Errm, I...I..." he stammered, his voice rough, his posture stiff.

"Oh my god!" I gasped, hastily clutching the towel to my chest. "I thought you were out! Not that, errm, we weren't," My words tangled on my tongue as I registered his expression, the nervous shift of his stance, and then, my gaze dipped, catching on the unmistakable tension in his trousers. A warmth bloomed in my face, spreading fast.

He swallowed thickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, no, don't worry, I, I know. I mean, it's OK. I heard. Not that I was listening!" His words rushed out in a flustered mess, his usual composed demeanour utterly shattered.

A stunned silence stretched between us. My heart pounded against my ribs. He looked anywhere but at me, but his entire body was rigid with restrained tension, and now that I had noticed, I couldn’t unsee it. Heat curled in my stomach, my own flustered energy mixing with the lingering thrill of my previous frustration.

"Right, well..." I tried to laugh, but it came out more breathless than I intended. "This is...awkward."

"Yes! Yes, very much so," he agreed too quickly, voice strained. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to take a step back. "I, uh, should go."

"Yeah. Yeah, me too." My fingers tightened around the towel, my mind spinning.

"Errm, can I ask you something?" I had always got on well with Mr Parks, and I had to ask someone. It certainly couldn't be my parents, and if he already knew we'd had sex and seemed okay with it, maybe I could push my luck.

"I suppose," he said hesitantly, shifting on his feet as if already regretting his answer.

"Is it always like that?"

His eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly before he shut it again. "Well, that depends on what... Well, actually no, I suppose it doesn't. It's unlikely that however this was that sex is always like that." He cleared his throat, composing himself. "Was it okay? Do you feel happy about it? Do you think you made a mistake?" His initial flustered response softened into genuine concern.

"Oh, yes! No, it's nothing like that. It's just... I still feel, erm, not done. Ben seemed to finish but I, well, I didn't."

"Ohhh, I see," he nodded in understanding, his face immediately turning bright red. He looked anywhere but at me, his discomfort obvious. "Erm, yes, okay, well, yes, he, he should, you should get to finish..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly floundering. "I'm not sure this is appropriate for us to talk about."

"Please, Mr Parks," I pressed, my voice quiet but insistent. "I can't talk to my parents about this. They'd flip, and my friends know even less than I do."

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple as if debating with himself. Then, finally, he sighed in resignation. "Come on, let's get some tea and have a chat." He turned, motioning toward the kitchen, and I followed, relieved but still burning with embarrassment.

Michael

This was not what I wanted. I had needed to get out of the house and not think about what I had just heard, and now she wanted to ask me questions about it. But as I led Lydia into the kitchen, I was acutely aware of her presence. She was slim and petite, her delicate frame wrapped in nothing but a small towel that barely covered her. Her long black hair hung flowed against her shoulders, a few strands clinging to her soft, flushed cheeks. The scent of her perfume surrounding me in a way that made my throat go dry. I started to pour water into the kettle. 

She sat down at the table, watching me expectantly. "So... what do I do?" she asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was uncertain, but there was curiosity there too.

I cleared my throat. "Well, when you have sex, you should get an orgasm. It’s not just about the guy finishing. Your pleasure is just as important as theirs. I’m surprised at Ben, when I was a teenager I was so randy I’d go all night."

She frowned slightly. "How will I know if I have one?" I couldn't help noticing how her small, perky breasts shifted slightly beneath the towel as she moved, and I forced my gaze away, focusing on the kettle, willing my thoughts elsewhere.

I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Trust me. When you have one, it will be obvious. You won’t have to wonder."

She seemed to mull that over for a moment, then tilted her head. "But what if it doesn’t happen? What if it never happens?"

I turned back to her, gripping the counter to ground myself. "That’s why you should be confident in making the boys you have sex with give you an orgasm. You shouldn’t fake it. You deserve to feel good too."

Her expression shifted, thoughtful, as she absorbed my words. "Okay… but how? What do I need to do?"

That question had me swallowing hard. How the hell was I supposed to answer that? Explaining what an orgasm felt like was difficult enough, but telling her how to have one? That was far more complicated, and far more dangerous territory.

"Every girl is a bit different," I managed, my voice steady despite the way my pulse thrummed. "You have to figure out what works for you. It’s... personal."

She nodded slowly, watching me with those wide, inquisitive blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes, her delicate features intent and curious. Her lips, slightly parted as she considered my words, were impossibly distracting. I felt my own body tense. This was a conversation I never thought I’d have, and definitely not with someone sitting across from me in nothing but a towel, looking so effortlessly soft and inviting. The way she absentmindedly chewed her lower lip, the way she shifted, causing the towel to ride just a little higher up her thighs. It was maddening. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus on the conversation, not on the way my body was reacting.

"So I just... experiment?" she asked, the curiosity in her tone making my stomach tighten.

I turned away, pretending to check the kettle though it didn't need any attention until it was done. "Yeah. And when you're with someone, you should communicate. Let them know what you like. Don’t be afraid to ask for what feels good."

She chewed on her lip, nodding. "That makes sense."

I risked a glance at her, and immediately regretted it. The towel had slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of her collarbone and the delicate dip at the base of her throat. The soft swell of her chest peeked out just slightly, and I could see the faintest goosebumps on her skin from cool night air. I had to clench my fists against the counter to keep from reacting, my breath catching involuntarily at how effortlessly alluring she was.

"Mr Parks?" she asked, her voice soft.

I forced a chuckle, trying to lighten the tension suffocating the room. "That’s enough sex-ed for tonight, don’t you think?"

She smiled, but there was something knowing in her expression. "Yeah. Thanks, though. This helped."

I nodded, hoping she couldn’t see how much effort it took to keep myself composed. Because right now, I needed to be anywhere else but here. But she didn’t move, she had another question, I could tell.

"How do I know if a man understands my pleasure, if I don't really understand it myself?"

I hesitated, my throat tightening. "Experiment, I guess," I replied, swallowing deeply, my pulse quickening as I met her wide, expectant eyes.

She tilted her head slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder. "Could you help me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air between us thickened, heavy with something unspoken. I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles white, willing myself to stay composed. "Lydia... I, " I started, then stopped, exhaling sharply. Her gaze was unwavering, innocent yet filled with curiosity, and it sent my mind spinning.

She shifted in her seat, the towel riding slightly higher on her thighs, and I forced myself to look away. "I just mean... you're experienced, right? You know what you're talking about. Maybe if I understood better, I could, " she trailed off, biting her lip, her cheeks darkening with colour.

I ran a hand through my hair, struggling to form words. "Lydia, this isn't, it's not that simple.” I trailed off, turning back around Lydia had dropped the towel again. 

Lydia

His eyes widened as he saw what I had done. I knew they would all through the conversation he had been trying to avoid looking at me. I had to do it, I needed this. My time with Ben had made me so, so horny, and then listening to Mr Parks talk about how sex should be had just stoked my lust into a fire raging between my legs that needed to be put out.

"Ok" he nodded, unable to resist. "This way" He led me down the corridor to the other end of the house, where there was a small set of rooms that Ben's Gran normally stayed in when she visited. I could see the war going on behind his eyes, I leaned in, standing on my tiptoes to reach. I kissed him. He was stiff at first but soon gave in, melting in response to me. 

His lips were stiff beneath mine at first, tense with the last threads of restraint he was clinging to. But I wasn’t going to let him hold back. My hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. I could feel the moment his resolve shattered, the moment he let himself stop thinking.

His hands gripped my waist, firm and sure, as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of my lips, demanding, coaxing, making me shiver under his touch. He tasted like heat and restraint finally breaking, and it sent a rush of need straight to my core.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, Lydia.”

I met his gaze, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Then teach me.”

He groaned low in his throat, dragging a hand through his hair as though he were trying to steady himself. But it was no use. The moment had already consumed us both.

"Come here," he said, his voice rough.

He led me to the bed, his grip steady but firm. "Last chance to change your mind," he murmured, his lips hovering just over mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I tilted my chin up, my hands sliding beneath his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of his stomach. "I want this."

A muscle in his jaw ticked. Then he pushed me down onto the bed. His eyes swept over me, dark with hunger, his breathing uneven as he took in every inch of me.

"You’re beautiful," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands settled on my hips and pushed me back onto the bed.

I gasped as he knelt between my legs, his strong rough fingers trailing up my thighs, teasing but never quite touching where I needed him. The anticipation made me tremble, my breath coming out in short, uneven bursts.

"You have to learn what you like," he said, his voice low and measured, though I could see how much effort it took for him to keep it that way. "And don’t be afraid to ask for it."

I swallowed hard, nodding.

His fingers ghosted over my inner thigh before finally, finally sliding between my slick folds. I let out a choked sound, hips jerking instinctively toward his touch.

"That’s it," he murmured, stroking me slowly, exploring, finding exactly what made me whimper and writhe beneath him. "You’re already so wet, Lydia. Tell me, did Ben even make you feel like this?"

I shook my head quickly, a moan slipping from my lips as he circled that aching spot, teasing, applying just the right pressure to send pleasure surging through me.The sensations coursing through me now were so different to what his son had made me feel it was hard to imagine you’d call both of them sex.

"Didn’t think so," he muttered, smirking. "You have to make sure he doesn’t get his until you get yours."

I barely heard him. My head was spinning, my body on fire as he worked me with slow, practiced movements, dragging his fingers through my slickness before pressing one inside.

I gasped, my back arching off the bed.

"Easy," he soothed, moving deliberately, giving me time to adjust. "Relax for me."

I forced myself to breathe, focusing on the way he felt inside me. He was patient. Skilled. Mr Parks wasn’t in a rush. He was learning my body the way he’d said a man should, his free hand sliding up my body to play with one of my nipples, as he curled his fingers, pressing against something deep inside me that made my vision blur.

"Oh, God!"

He chuckled, his lips ghosting over my knee. "You’re so sensitive."

He slid in another finger, stretching me, working me open with slow, precise movements, his thumb circling my clit with just enough pressure to make my toes curl.

I was shaking now, pleasure mounting fast, my body completely at his mercy.

"You’re close, aren’t you?" he murmured, watching my face.

I could only nod, panting, my nails digging into the sheets as heat coiled tighter and tighter inside me.

"Go on, Lydia," he urged, his voice thick with need. "I want to feel you come for me.  You deserve this."

His words sent me over the edge. My body clenched around his fingers as the orgasm tore through me, white-hot and all-consuming. I cried out, my thighs trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me gasping, shaking beneath him.

He didn’t stop until I was completely spent, until I was a boneless mess beneath his hands. Only then did he withdraw, his fingers glistening with my release as he smiled at me with a satisfied smirk.

I realised he was right, there was no way to miss that. I had never had anything like that before, my experiments with the shower now felt like feeble attempts at pleasure, I’d never actually got over that crest.

Michael

Lydia lay sprawled across the bed, her chest rising and falling in the aftermath of her orgasm. A soft sheen of sweat kissed her skin, her thighs still trembling where my hands held them apart. She was absolutely wrecked. wide-eyed, lips parted, completely blissed out beneath me.

I smirked, running my fingers gently up her inner thigh, enjoying the way she shuddered under my touch. "Every time you have sex, you should feel like that," I murmured, my voice thick with satisfaction.

Her breath hitched. She blinked up at me, still dazed. "Every time?"

I chuckled. "At least once."

She stared, her delicate features caught between disbelief and awe. "Wait… I can do that more than once?"

The innocent shock in her voice made my cock twitch in my jeans. Jesus. She really didn’t know.

"Women can usually have multiple orgasms in a single session," I explained, brushing a few damp strands of hair from her face. "Some need a little break afterward, especially if they're really sensitive, but others can take advantage of that sensitivity to come again even faster."

She swallowed, shifting slightly, her body still twitching as the aftershocks coursed through her. "I feel… really sensitive."

"That’s normal," I assured her, pressing a kiss against her knee as my hands slid up her bare thighs. "You might need a minute to recover."

She nodded slowly, staring at me like she was still processing everything. I waited, expecting her to sit up, to pull the sheets around herself now that she’d gotten what she needed. But she didn’t move. Instead, her fingers curled into the bedsheets, her lips pressing together in quiet determination.

"Mr Parks…?"

"Yeah?"

She bit her lip, her expression suddenly shy despite everything we had just done. "I… I want to feel that again."

I clenched my jaw, every muscle in my body tightening with restraint. I had expected this to be a one-time thing, a lesson, a way for her to understand her own pleasure. I hadn’t planned on taking more. I hadn’t planned on letting her take more. "Lydia, I, "

"And I want to make you feel good, too," she added quickly, her voice a little breathless. "It makes sense, right? If I should always come, then so should my partner."

Fuck. Her fingers brushed against the bulge in my jeans.

I inhaled sharply as she palmed me through the denim, her touch hesitant at first, but growing bolder when she felt how hard I was for her.

"Lydia…" I warned, my voice strained.

"Please," she whispered, her hand moving slowly, her fingers pressing, stroking, learning. "I want to. I want to know what it feels like to make you lose control."

Jesus Christ.

My restraint snapped.

In one swift motion, I grabbed her wrist, pressing her back into the bed as I loomed over her. Her eyes went wide, her breath catching as I pinned her beneath me, my cock throbbing against the inside of my jeans.

"You want to make me feel good?" I murmured, brushing my lips over her throat. "Then let me show you how."

Her breath shuddered. "Please."