We made it back to Manly Cove with time to spare and I even managed to get my bra back on straight. We went to the upper deck again, but this time we weren’t alone; there were a few couples already outside enjoying the summer evening and cuddling in the seats along the rail, so we separated into the toilets to tidy up and met back in the upper cabin amidships where we took a couple of adjacent seats.

Just before departure, one of the crew came up to our deck and walked past us, making for the stairs up to the bridge. Just as he passed, he did a double-take, kept walking for a few steps and then turned around with his head cocked and a frown of concentration across his face.

“You’re some kinda movie star,” he said, “Aren’t-cha?” He looked to be about thirty, slim and scruffy in his rumpled uniform with freckles and a few days’ worth of red stubble on his face.

“No … I … um …” I began.

And then quick as a flash, “Aw, go-orn Ems,” Kevin interrupted in what might be the worst Cockney accent I’ve ever heard, “’e’s got-chew fair ‘n’ square.”

Oh dear, now what? Do the right thing and disappoint Kevin, exposing him as a prankster – or worse, a liar – to the guy? Or go along and have a fun story to tell later?

“You’ve got a good eye, Sir,” I said in my best Hermione Oxford English accent (which actually sounded pretty good to my ear) and giving him a big sunny smile while I pinched Kevin’s knee. “You’re the first one to recognise me today.”

“I knew it!” he smiled broadly. “You’re that one from Star Wars, right? With all the white make-up? And you married Darth Vader! What was that about?”

“Oh!” I grinned, this was a first. “You might be thinking of Natalie Portman. I think she’s American.” I felt a bit disappointed not to be recognised, especially when I was trying so hard with the accent. “I’m …”

“No! Don’t tell me!” he said, holding up both hands. “I’ll get it.” That look of concentration returned to his face. “Hey, d’youse guys wanna come up to the bridge? We’ve gotta get going and I want to work this out. You can meet The Skip.”

Kevin and I looked at each other, we were both grinning like idiots. If “The Skip” was every bit as observant as his off-sider then we could have a good laugh about this later.

“I’m Brian,” he said, holding open the door to the stairs for us.

“Kev,” Kevin said in that stupid accent again. “Pleased t’meecha.”

“No, don’t tell me,” Brian grinned as I held out my hand to shake. “I’m still working on it.”

I looked at the steep stairs and then down at my skirt. “Um … you go first, Brian,” I blushed, flapping my skirt with my hand.

“Yeah, right,” he smiled, eying my legs. “Don’t get many ladies up on the bridge.”

“Oh, Brian,” I smiled coquettishly at him. “That’s probably because you never ask.”

He blushed a little at my joke, but turned and followed Kevin up the stairs, leaving me to follow. We came out on an open deck behind the wheelhouse and Brian led us around to the hatch to go inside.

“Oh, hey! I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, pointing at me. Then he turned around into the wheelhouse, “Ducks on the pond, Skip. We’ve got a movie star on board!”

Kevin went in first and I heard an older man laugh, “Jesus, Brian. You think every bloke with a beard is fuckin’ Hugh Jackman. This one’s six inches too short and twenty years too young.” And then to Kevin, “I swear, mate, no offense right? But the last Hugh Jackman he brought up here was a bloody Iranian.”

“Not him, Skip. Her!” he said proudly, letting me in. “I just worked it out; she’s the one from them Pirate movies with Johnny Depp and that other poofter bloke.”

None for two, Brian! I think that was Keira Knightley. At least he had the right side of the Atlantic this time.

“Geez you’re a goose, Brian,” The Skip laughed. “Nah, she’s that bird from Harry Potter. Emma Thompson!”

“Watson,” I corrected him, grinning madly at what felt like a comedy routine.

“Yeah, right. I should know, my boy’s got a fu- … a friggin’ life sized poster of you in a red dress on his wall. See it every time I walk in. Make a point of it, in fact; pardon me for sayin’ so love, but you’re kind of easy on the eyes.” Then his face clouded over in panic. “Oh shit, I hope you were eighteen when that picture was taken. Pardon my French.”

I could only laugh.

“I’m Laurie,” Skip leaned forward to shake hands without shifting his bulk off the stool. “But you can call me Skip up here.” He looked to be in his late forties, greying hair and overweight, but with a friendly, welcoming smile.

“Hello Skip,” I smiled back. “I’m … Emma,” I almost buggered it up, “and this is Kevin.”

“Wotcha!” Kevin gave an informal salute from behind Brian. Oh, take him now, Lord!

“Well pull up a pew,” Skip indicated some chairs against the rear wall of the wheelhouse. “Me ‘n’ Brian’ve gotta get this tub on its way to Circular Quay. We can yak when we’re outta the Cove.”

Brian sat on the stool beside Skip. “And you’ll haf’ta shoosh when we’re on the radio,” he said. “Else the Harbour Master’ll rip us both a new one.” I made a zipping motion across my lips and smiled back.

Skip put on a radio headset and conducted an unintelligible conversation with the wharf crew which I hope meant they had cast off and we were cleared to leave port. He brought the engines up to a high idle to move us smoothly away from the wharf and then slowly added more power until we were underway and cruising out past Manly Point.

“Don’choo have another movie to make, love?” Skip asked. “Shift y’r arse, Brian. Give the girl a seat with a view.” And then back to me, “My Davey can’t stop goin’ on about it.”

“They’ve finished filming,” I said, swapping seats with Brian and marvelling at how I managed not to completely lie. “The movie comes out in in a few months.” I was really settling in to the accent. It felt completely natural; I couldn’t be more at home than talking about Harry Potter and Hermione. Kevin stood beside me with an arm around my shoulder and watched out the window.

“Shame they hooked you up that ranga kid,” he went on. “Got a head on him like Brian’s. Shoulda used a good-lookin’ kid like Hugh Jackman here,” he gestured at Kevin.

“I know right?” I laughed, musically. “Except he can’t act.” I reached down and squeezed his thigh. “Can’t even do impressions! Do your Australian accent, Kevin!”

“Aw, cripes Em’,” he said in his normal voice, trying not to laugh. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“Acksh’ly mate, that’s not bad,” Brian said. “Keep at it. Hardly anyone’d guess you’re a bloody Pom.” And then, realising what he’d said. “No offence, y’know.”

“None taken,” Kevin laughed.

We watched the view out the window as Skip did most of the talking, telling us about the Freshwater – which is the ferry we were on – and regaling us with anecdotes from half a lifetime of work on Sydney Harbour.

“This is Bradley’s Head coming up on our right,” Skip pointed to some lights marking the edge of the dark harbour. “You’ll be able to see the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the city in a tick.”

Sure enough, the lights of the skyscrapers appeared first and then the familiar coat-hanger of the bridge came into view – tiny and unfamiliar to me from this distance.

“Oh wow!” I breathed, almost forgetting my English accent. “What a view you get from up here!”

“It’s got nothin’ on the view from up top,” Brian pointed above his head. “Three-sixty views in every direction.”

“What’s up there?” I asked. “I thought this was the top deck.”

“It is,” Skip agreed. “But there’s a ladder up to the roof. There’s a rail around the radio mast and more stairs up to the crow’s nest. Brian’s like a bloody dog hanging his head outta the car. He’d spend the whole trip up there if I let him.”

“Is it romantic?” I asked, exchanging a glance with Kevin.

“I dunno about romantic,” Skip said. “It’s not like that scene in Titanic, if that’s what you mean.”

“Hey,” Brian interrupted, pointing at me again with a bright look in his eyes. “You were in that one too, right?”

“Fuck, Brian – oh shit … I mean, pardon. Beg yours, Miss,” I tried not to smile at Skip’s serial profanity. “What are you smoking, Brian? She was a baby when that movie came out.”

Actually, I was in Grade 5; I remember because my Mum wouldn’t let me watch it. But right now I was pretending to be a few years younger, so Skip had a point.

“Can we go up there?” I asked him eagerly. The thought of panoramic views from the middle of Sydney Harbour was too good to pass up.

Skip laughed at my excitement. “If y’can see y’way clear to an autograph and photo for my boy, then I reckon yes,” he negotiated. “But I need Brian to stay here …”

“Awww, Ski-i-i-p!”

“… and you can’t go up the crow’s nest without rigging, so you gotta stay inside the rail.”

“Done and done!” I chirped. “Where do I sign?”

We found a felt-tipped marker and I “autographed” a laminated evacuation map of the ferry:

To Davey, son of the World’s Best Ferry Captain Love always,  Emma Watson (Hermione)  -xxx-
I wore Brian’s Sydney Ferries cap and jacket and they took some photos of me behind the wheel, Skip taking care to avoid the incriminating view out the window which would show me operating a passenger ferry in the middle of Sydney Harbour. It didn’t take long, and then Brian showed us out to the ladder and went back into the wheelhouse.

“Ladies first,” Kevin joked, staring lewdly at my bottom.

“Very funny,” I poked my tongue out at him, holding my skirt down so that the wind didn’t whip it up and expose my pussy.

He just laughed and quickly climbed the ladder, I took one last look to make sure Brian wasn’t coming back out and then followed. Kevin took my hand as I climbed onto the roof and we looked around together. It was just as Skip had described – a little railed-off area a few metres square with a huge tower in the middle.

And the view? It was spectacular! The inky black water glinted with reflections of Sydney’s lights all around us. I turned in a slow circle, looking for landmarks in the darkness, but the only ones I could pick out were Centrepoint Tower and the Harbour Bridge. Still, it was like the world’s biggest display of Christmas fairy lights. Just beautiful.

It was blustery, but the wind wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be up so high on a moving ferry, and Kevin and I stood with arms around each other for a minute just looking.

“Wow,” he said finally.

“I don’t think Skip knows what ‘romantic’ is,” I breathed. “This is beautiful.”

I leaned my head against Kevin’s cheek and he turned to kiss my forehead. Looking up into his face with a few escaped tendrils of my hair dancing between us, I kissed him back, that almost familiar surge of adrenalin making my heart pound again as he closed me tighter in his arms.

“Do you know,” I said, smiling and fingering the buttons on his shirt. “I’m sure Leonardo DiCaprio had more buttons undone on his shirt.” I popped one of them, and then when he didn’t complain I opened two more and placed a palm against his bare chest.

“Do you know,” he smiled back. “The Titanic was in iceberg country in the North Atlantic. When I saw the movie, I remember Leonardo with a warm jacket and his shirt buttoned up to the neck.”

“That’s not how I remember it at all,” I said, slowly opening another button and kissing him on the lips. “In the one I remember, he had his shirt flying open.” I opened the last button and smoothed both hands over his chest and shoulders, “And he was standing on the rail with Kate Winslet behind him …”

“I think you’ve got your roles reversed,” he laughed. “Or did you see some Mexican remake? Were they speaking English?”

“Shush,” I said, putting a finger over his lips and turning him around to face the bow while I stood behind him. “He definitely had his shirt open. Or maybe it was off? I can’t remember.”

“Open!” he blurted. “I’m sure it was just open.”

“Good,” I said in his ear, still holding him in my arms and running my hands slowly over his chest. “I knew we saw the same movie.”

“You’re the boss,” he said under his breath. That kind of sass would not go unrewarded.

“So anyway,” I continued, “he’s yelling ‘I’m the king of the world’, or …”

“Kate wasn’t even in that scene …”

“Shush!” I gently pinched his nipple, making him jump. “I won’t warn you again.”

“Continue,” he said, much more contrite. I liked that.

“Or maybe he was yelling ‘I’m flying’,” I said. “And she was behind him, holding onto him, looking out upon the sunset, her passion building inside her like a volcano.”

I had moved my hands down to his flat stomach and I felt the softer hairs beneath his navel tickling my palms. I must have been tickling right back, because I felt his stomach muscles contract, opening a small gap at the top of his jeans that my fingers slipped into before I even knew what they were doing.

“And she made him close his eyes,” I said, and then leaning close, “Are they closed?”

“They’re closed,” he affirmed, his stomach fluttering nervously as I slid my fingertips down to the waistband of his shorts.

“Good,” I said. “So she made him close his eyes and then she unbuttoned her blouse.”

“I’m definitely watching this movie again,” he whispered as I opened the button of his jeans and unzipped the fly. I felt my way down the front of his shorts, my fingers floating over the soft bed of pubic hair underneath until I reached the hard bulge of his cock. I felt it move and I recoiled momentarily, but then searched on blindly with both hands, gently touching and pressing, testing his hardness, trying (and failing) to work out the root from the tip and settling for rubbing softly all over the bulge with my palm.

“And as she held him,” I didn’t know where I was taking this story and didn’t have the courage to turn it into a porno, “with her naked breasts pressed into his back and her heart pounding, she moved her lips close to his ear and she whispered …”

I paused in the narrative to build tension, using the time to further my exploration, I left one hand cupping his manhood through the shorts and slipped the fingertips of my other hand beneath the waistband, anxious and excited in equal measures to touch my first cock. I think we were both holding our breath. I delved lower and my fingers touched his shaft, it was hot and hard and I was sure I could feel blood pulsing beneath the surface.

“What did she …” Kevin gulped. “What did she whisper?”

“I don’t remember,” I breathed. The little Titanic fantasy was all but forgotten, all I could concentrate on was the thick slab of cock throbbing beneath my fingers. I smoothed my palm over the top of it and closed my fingers around the sides, all of a sudden getting my orientation and realising which end was which. I was holding it near the base and there was another two inches or so projecting from my hand, maybe six inches in total, and I could easily touch my fingers and thumb, so not exactly a porn-star dick – that was a relief.

I squeezed gently and it surged and throbbed deliciously in my hand. Oh, this was so NOT like a vibrator. What must it feel like when it does that inside you? Reaching into his shorts with my other hand, I felt further down and found his balls, not sure whether I was revolted or excited by the squishy skin around them. His cock throbbed again and then in a delayed reaction, his balls swelled threateningly in my other hand. It made me think of the hot cum that was boiling away inside, ready to surge forward into my willing body. ‘Revolted’ was out; I must be excited.

Using my wrists to lever down his shorts, I brought out my prize – although standing behind him as I was, I still couldn’t see it. Gripping him firmly, I stroked upwards, pulling the cock-skin along and marvelling at the hard ridges and veins that passed silkily beneath my grip. I had only ever used a smooth vibrator, but now I wondered what I was missing; it was like peanut-butter: boring without the lumps! Right now, the lumps were ALL I wanted.

With my heart hammering, I squeezed tighter and stroked all the way back down to the base, pressing my fist into his pubis and making him gasp, though not with pain, I thought. His cock pumped again, and again I wondered how it would feel throbbing like that inside me. I closed my eyes and pictured it doing exactly that: opening me up for the first time as he slid thickly into my silky sheath, the close walls of my virgin sex holding him tight in their embrace as he surged inside me, his unyielding hardness forcing me open.

I whimpered into his ear with my need, stroking his cock again, slowly up and down, squeezing his shaft to feel it pump and then tightening around his balls as they echoed the swelling a moment later.

“Oh shit,” I heard Kevin whisper. The next time his cock flexed it stayed that way, improbably hard and thick in my slowly pumping fist, then I heard him catch his breath and suddenly I felt his manhood spasm and a buzzing vibration beneath my knuckles as he came, his rushing seed streaming through his cock beneath my tight grasp in half a dozen fast pumps.

“I remember now,” I said quietly in his ear, still slowly pumping his cock and feeling the weak spasms subside as it softened in my hand. “Kate Winslet moved her lips close to his ear and she whispered: ‘I’m ready’.”

“I’m ready too,” he replied breathlessly. “Or at least, I will be soon.”

Belinda had warned me he would be quick, and I could see how that would be disappointing if he was inside me. But this way it was good; if he had taken a long time then I would be wondering whether I was doing it right. And also according to Belinda – she was now assuming goddess-like wisdom in my mind – he would last longer next time. And longer the time after that. That one was the winner, she claimed, that was the golden ratio. Make your first-time his third, or third of the night, at least.

One down, two to go.

Chapter 7 – No Means Yes
We only said a fleeting goodbye and thank-you to Skip and Brian on the way back down because Kevin wanted to tidy up in the bathroom. Apparently there are things you shouldn’t do facing into a twenty knot breeze. Live and learn.

By the time the ferry pulled into Circular Quay, Kevin had regained some his former eagerness and we lined up at the exit with an urgency that wasn’t precisely matched by the other passengers. Brian came down to help with docking and when he was done I gave him a kiss on the cheek as Kevin and I hurried down the gangplank to the wharf and almost ran to the train platform.

Erk! Twenty minutes until the next train! We looked at each other urgently.

“Taxi?” Kevin suggested, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll pay,” I blurted, grabbing his hand and hurrying back downstairs to the taxi rank.

Improbably, there was actually a taxi waiting. Still more improbably, it was clean and the driver spoke English. Most improbably of all, he drove carefully and safely using the most direct route to my apartment! I was worried that we were being abducted by aliens.

Pay the driver.

Keep the change. Slam. Stumble. Fumble the keys. Fall through the door. Kissing. Hands everywhere. Find the light switch. Panting. Heart pounding in my ears.

“Wait,” I husked. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“WHAT?” he blurted, eyes flying open.

“Kidding,” I smiled. “I just want to slow things down.”

“Success,” he said tightly, taking his hands from under my skirt and placing them in the small of my back.

We kissed again, less desperately but more enjoyably; I wanted to enjoy all of this, to remember every moment. Still kissing, we edged towards the bedroom, shedding shoes along the way while I unbuttoned Kevin’s shirt for the second time that night and he pulled my blouse over my head. He started fumbling at my strapless bra clasp, and silently thanking Belinda again, I slipped my fingers up and under the cups and pulled it straight down to my waist.

“That’s very practical,” he mumbled into my lips as I unzipped his jeans and dropped them to his ankles. Guiding him slowly backwards into my bedroom, he miraculously managed to step out of them without tripping over.

I got his shorts down to his thighs before I backed him into the bed and then gave him a light shove to sit him down, giving me my first chance to look at his cock as he quickly pulled off his shorts. It looked much as it had felt on the ferry: hard and thick and utterly wonderful, twitching nervously like a divining rod.

I unclasped my bra, leaving me in the cornflower-blue skirt and nothing else. Standing over Kevin lying on the bed, I reached behind for the zip, about to take it off.

“No, leave it on,” he gulped.

“Huh?” I looked down at him, my head spinning with lust and now confusion.

“Leave it on,” he repeated, reaching for my waist and drawing me towards him. “It looks so hot!” I climbed onto the bed, straddling his body as he lay back on the covers, and realised with an excited rush that beneath the skirt, my naked pussy was poised directly above his cock.

I was so horny I almost couldn’t stand it; every part of me wanted to lift the tip to my soaking entrance and simply slide down onto it, putting paid to this whole virginity saga once and for all. And I almost did! With his shaft lying flat against his body, I lowered down until I felt it kiss against my open pussy lips, the wet surface tension forming an attraction that felt wilful, almost like they didn’t want to be separated.

Then I heard Belinda’s voice in my head, my own imagination providing the perfect note of sarcasm that I knew she would use, as if she was in the room coaching me. “Sure, sweetie. Go ahead. I can see you’re in a hurry. And that’s good, because he’s about three wet strokes away from coming. At least the first time will be memorable for one of you.”

With one hand on my breast, another cupping my bottom beneath the skirt, and his hard member twitching and teasing my pussy lips, I almost told Imaginary Belinda to go fuck herself. I could hear Kevin holding his breath as his cock made those long flexes and I realised that he was trying and probably failing to hold his orgasm at bay. And I wasn’t far behind! Every time I touched my clitoris to his shaft I felt a little bolt of pleasure ripple through me, making my nipples hard and my skin prick with goose-bumps.

Resigned to the commitment to wait a little longer for my prize, I sat down more heavily on his shaft, pressing it into my glistening slit and forcing my lips to open wide, his hard manhood touching me everywhere from my perineum to my aching clitoris and most especially my steaming, yearning entrance in-between.

The little bolts of pleasure in my clitoris became one huge thunderclap of ecstasy that froze the breath in my chest. My hips pumped reflexively and ground his dick against my sex, prolonging and compounding the pure wave of bliss radiating from my pussy.

“Oh God,” I whimpered in his ear. “I think I’m coming!”

That was all the permission Kevin needed; he expelled a groan that I think was his first breath in about thirty seconds and grabbed my backside in both hands, driving my pussy against his throbbing cock and thrusting up against me, pounding my clitoris with glorious explosions while I writhed on top of him and a wave of heat built in my core and then spread out through my stomach and thighs.

And then he was coming. I felt him swell and throb along the length of my slit, and then his cock was bucking like a rodeo bull beneath my pussy. The vibration of cum rushing along the underside reverberated through my clitoris in a way that a toy could never replicate, tipping me over the edge and sending me into writhing spasms on his cock, unable to bear the acute agony of ecstasy, but equally unable to lift myself off the magnificent, throbbing tool that had me almost paralysed with pleasure.

When Kevin stopped coming, the buzzing in my clitoris finally waned and I floated down from the intense peak of my climax, spent and satisfied. All I wanted now was to cuddle; Belinda didn’t warn me about this, I don’t think she expected me to come in the warm-ups. I laid down on top of Kevin and nuzzled into the soft bristles on his neck, my pussy still hugging his softening cock and a warm, squidgy mess squelching between our bellies. This skirt was going to need to soak.

“Jeannie?” he said softly into my ear.

“Mmm hmm?” I didn’t raise my head. Didn’t even open my eyes.

“That was … ,” he paused. Nice? Too short? Not what he expected?

“Round One,” I finished for him, which I thought answered all of the above.

“When’s Round Two?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“Soon,” I said. “Let’s shower first. Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Not Harry Potter, right?”

“Not Harry Potter,” I agreed, grinning. I’d never felt less like school-girl witch, Hermione Granger in my life. It was nice.

~~~
Belinda has a startling collection of sexy action movies, including all of the Daniel Craig “James Bond” movies and most especially Casino Royale, which she’s made me watch with her at least twice. It’s very nearly porn for her, she watches dressed in pyjamas with a pillow tucked between her thighs. I admit I can see the attraction, but I just can’t put myself so far out there that I’m willing to get my own pillow (though I confess to having thought about it).

Kevin and I showered (together) and dressed (separately); me in a shortie nightie, no panties; and Kevin in his boxer shorts, which I noticed for the first time (I was distracted earlier) had a practical little window in front. I had to smile, it was the male equivalent of Belinda’s strapless-bra trick. You just never knew when you’d need your cock out in a hurry without having to remove your shorts.

We sat together on the sofa and I started the movie, Kevin’s arm around my shoulders so that I could snuggle into his chest. Daniel Craig was sexy – as usual – and this time I wasn’t fooled into thinking the villain’s sexy accomplice would be his love-interest. She gets killed of course, and then we meet the real love-interest: Vesper Lynd. And man, is she sexy! If Emma Watson / Hermione Granger is geek cat-nip, then Vesper is geek heroin. And not just geeks, guys in general! Heck, not just guys, either; I think I’d turn for her! She starts out bookish and sensible, then she’s distant and vulnerable, and then she turns smoking hot and sensual. I defy any guy not to be in love with her by the mid-point of the movie.

James Bond started us off with a bunch of tough-guy stuff (or course) and was making me feel decidedly sexy. My hand on Kevin’s thigh had been surreptitiously creeping upwards and by the time Vesper made her first appearance it was parked happily in his groin, not fondling as such, just there, touching.

Leaning on him with my legs folded beneath me and to the side, I was so absorbed in the movie that I didn’t even notice his hand seeking its own Northwest Passage up my thigh until his fingertips brushed over my sex, making me jerk my own hand against his now hard-again cock. Clearly we weren’t going to make it all the way through this movie.

While Vesper was matching wits with Bond on the screen and pretending she didn’t fancy him (which just makes it so much hotter), Double-O-Kevin was stroking a finger up and down through my slit, getting me hotter and wetter and making me wriggle in my seat. I kept a hand on his cock, but remembering Belinda’s teachings, I didn’t return his attention equally; I just touched, making sure he was ready for what came next.

I thought we would make it to the bit where they fall in love, but we didn’t even get close. With Kevin stroking me to a lather, I was done for when Daniel Craig suited up for his big poker game and my pussy was crying so insistently for more that I could barely concentrate on the screen.

And then the reluctant kiss: Bond snatched Vesper in the stairwell and kissed her as a diversion. Vesper stiffens at first, surprised but playing the role of Bond’s wife, and then she softens and responds. That five second journey from reluctance to passion is so damned sexy, my breath caught and I felt a wanting, yearning need deep in the pit of my stomach.

“Hell with this,” I muttered. In a single motion I turned and swung a leg over Kevin’s lap, straddling him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, vaguely aware of the pain from last night’s pash-rash on my face but not caring. Not in the slightest.

I was so beyond waiting, it felt as though I’d been waiting my entire life. In a way, I guess, I had been. But no more! I had followed all of Belinda’s instructions and earned my prize and now by-God I was going to take it. Not that it wasn’t freely offered, Kevin seemed every bit as desperate as me. Strangely, Belinda didn’t offer me any coaching on this part; her plan completely revolved around the fore-foreplay, or making him come twice before intercourse. And then what? I had asked. And then you fuck like rabbits, was her reply, which I think is Belinda-ese for ‘do whatever feels good.’

I hadn’t thought this bit through, but straddled over his lap I could feel his cock throbbing and flexing against my open pussy through his boxers and all I wanted in the world was for it to be inside me. Rising up on my knees, I reached through the handy little window in the front and immediately closed my fingers around his shaft, my heart racing to feel it bucking and rearing like a fish on a hook.

Struggling for breath, I held him beneath my nightie and brought his cock-head to my entrance, gliding it deliciously back up over my clitoris and coating the underside with my natural lubrication while he gasped in my ear, before bringing him back to my opening and seating his knob just inside.

This was now feeling very, very real. I let go and just held him between my pussy lips, folding my arms around his neck again.

In another moment, I thought, I won’t be a virgin anymore.

“This is perfect,” I breathed, breaking our kiss and mentally snapshotting the moment. “Is this how you imagined it?”

“Oh, God yes,” he breathed. “Wait, no!”

“What?” I said, dismayed. I very nearly just dropped down onto his shaft in spite.

He lifted my nightie over my head, leaving me naked on top of him, my small, firm breasts standing proudly with peaked nipples right in front of his face. Poised above him with just the tip of his cock in my pussy, he kissed one breast and then the other, sucking and gently nibbling the nipple and setting off sparks that I could feel all the way down in my core.

“Now?” I gulped.

“Yes, now.”

With my heart in my mouth, I slowly lowered myself onto him, opening myself up on his thick, throbbing cock. The fit was perfect, like we were made for each other, tight and hot and snug. My no-longer-virgin pussy gripped his shaft reflexively, testing and tasting him, trying to work out whether this strange, hot bar of flesh should be welcomed as a visitor or ejected as an intruder. Working him half-way into my wet sheath, I rose up again, and Kevin kissed and tongued my nipples as I slowly rode his cock-head. Again and again, I pulled him out so that my lips closed softly over his glans, and then glided thickly back in, each time feeling like the first time as he forced me open and found my love canal another degree hotter, my juices now matting my pussy hair and running freely down his cock.

With our noses together and staring into each other’s eyes, I held him half-way inside me and circled my hips, experimenting with new sensations and using his hard cock to stir my pussy, touching me inside in places that I had never felt before, making me hotter and wetter and hungry for more.

“Hold me,” I whispered with my lips to his ear, my eyes shut as I concentrated on the wonderfully tight feeling of hot cock in my pussy. Kevin wrapped both arms around me and pressed my small, round breasts into his chest until they bulged modestly out at the sides. I felt cocooned and safe, with one strong hand cupping both cheeks of my bottom and the other at the nape of my neck; I was trapped halfway on his thick, pulsing cock and utterly helpless. I couldn’t get off if I tried.

It was the most erotic, exciting thing I had never imagined, to be dominated by a man, not submitting to his will, but letting him use his strength and power to take my whole body just as I was letting his rampant cock plunder the delicate folds of my pussy.

“Now take me,” I gulped, bracing myself to feel him fully inside me for the first time, to be joined completely.

I felt the muscles in his arms bulge and constrict, like a python strangling its prey. And even though I was braced, kneeling above him, still I felt myself slowly drawn down onto him. The innermost depths of my womanhood – hot and inflamed with anticipation – were now getting their turn as his thick knob slid tightly into new, unexplored reaches.

I was beside myself with excitement. Straining against him was useless; I arched back, stiff and helpless and locked in his tightening embrace as millimetre by millimetre we became one.

“No!” I groaned, through gritted teeth, straining and weakly pumping my hips as I was slowly impaled.

Kevin gasped like he’d been bitten and I felt his muscles relax, his cock sliding halfway out again and leaving me with a feeling of yearning emptiness.

“No! God! No means yes!” I cried desperately. “Do it again!”

Oh my goodness, I could feel his heart pounding against my breasts as his cock bucked and swelled inside me; Kevin was at least as excited as I was. Taking me like this – with force, if not by force – had tapped into a fantasy he later told me he never suspected.

“But how will I know … ?” he asked, conflicted.

“No means no,” I gasped. “I’ll say No-Means-No to stop.” Then I put my lips to his ear – too shy to say it out loud. “Now fuck me and don’t stop until you come inside me.”

I heard him swallow dryly and draw a shuddering breath, his cock twitching uncontrollably and throbbing halfway inside my pussy … no, now he was in my cunt; it wasn’t a pussy any longer. Just the thought of that C-word made me clench tighter on his pole. “Fuck my cunt,” I thought in my head, shivering at the delicious naughtiness. “Fuck my tiny, little, wet cunt.”

Oh my God, what was happening to me? Why do these things sound so ridiculous out loud and so fucking hot in my head?

Kevin’s grip on me tightened again and I felt myself being forced down onto his cock. Every nerve and muscle was buzzing with the adrenalin rush and my pussy (cunt, whatever, old habits) was clamped down on him like a vice.

“No, stop it!” I panted, struggling in his arms. “Don’t hurt me!” I whipped my hips from side to side, stretching my cunt in places I scarcely knew existed, all the while writhing against his body and rubbing my nipples through his chest hair.

Kevin paused, conflicted again. His cock was about three-quarters of the way inside me and bulging with an excitement that I could feel. Beyond hard, it was like a hot bar of forged iron cleaving me down the middle.

“(no-means-yes)” I whispered.

I felt his breath hot in my ear as he forced his cock into me again. Good Lord! I was going come before I was all the way fully-fucked!

“Stop it!” I cried, bucking my pubis against his hard stomach while his cock-head stirred the coals of a white-hot fire burning in my core. “I’m not ready.”

The muscles in his shoulders bunched; Kevin stopped fucking around and drove me down onto his spike, punching out my breath with a whoosh as he touched down on my cervix.

“Oh God, no!” I gasped. “You’re too big,” a small part of me even thought this was true, but the much greater part was buzzing so hard I was almost ringing. I felt so completely full … and so fully complete. Why would you ever take a cock out once you got it in there?

With my pussy lips mashed against his shorts, I writhed in his iron grasp, playfully at first, but I gradually realised that he was so much stronger than me and then I struggled harder, grunting with effort and gasping with ecstasy until I was doing everything I could without resorting to violence to lift myself off his straining cock. A soaking fold of his shorts was packed against my clitoris and the tip of his cock kept dancing this way and that over my cervix, bringing me tantalisingly close to the edge of orgasm, but I just couldn’t get over the top.

“Please, fuck me,” I whimpered, still struggling in his arms. “Make me come. I’m so close.” But he held me tight; even with the tables turned, begging him to fuck me, still he held me tight, my own pleasure held hostage to his mercy.

I strained backwards, crying out with the effort, my breasts thrust out and shining with sweat as they popped free above his embrace. The angle of my pussy sheared across his cock now rather than trying to lift off it. And it worked! I felt his cock-head move inside as the hard ridges and veins of his shaft ground through my sensitive opening. I relaxed, snapping back onto his dick, and my orgasm took another baby-step closer to the drop-off.

“Oh yes,” I cried, my voice dropping half an octave to a lusty contralto. “Just like that! Fuck me just like that. Cum in me now!”

I strained back again but Kevin didn’t resist as hard, letting me climb further off his cock and then ramming me back home. I felt something inside me ignite and the machine of my orgasm roared to life; a fireball of pure ecstasy formed around the tip of his cock and grew into a burning sun, the force of it taking over my muscles, pumping my hips helplessly and driving his shaft in and out while I cried in wordless syllables.

“Now!” I managed, straining against a force that built inside me like an over-inflated balloon. “Cum in me now!”

And miraculously he did. Strong and silent though all of my dirty talk, Kevin grunted though clenched teeth, “Oh! Jeannie!” And then he unleashed. His cock swelled again, he bucked his hips against me and then I felt that buzzing vibration as cum surged through the bulging vessel in his cock and exploded into me with smooth liquid heat. It was the final straw for me; the balloon burst and I ejaculated with a cataclysmic release that I had never experienced or even imagined with my fingers or vibrator.

I collapsed on his chest, slick with sweat and shaking, and still I could feel his hard cock, pumping every few seconds and emptying the last of his seed into my core. I’d never felt so full; it was a delicious, floating, satisfied feeling that warmed me throughout. I clenched down on him with my pelvic floor and with a wet, farting sound, most of his cum squirted out into his lap, thus completing the ruin of his shorts.

“Eeew, gross!” I said.

“You did it!” he retorted, laughing.

I cuddled his chest, soaking up the warmth and love, basking in the leftover power of our lovemaking. Our unconventional lovemaking? I wasn’t sure. Belinda had said to do whatever felt right. I did, and I liked it. And Kevin liked it too! It can’t have been that unconventional.

“Are you …,” Kevin began. “Safe?”

“It’s not my time,” I said. My period ended right before the party – two nights ago – but I saw a prescription in my very near future. There’s no way I was going over to condoms after that.

“The movie’s still going,” he said. “Do you want to rewind?”

“No,” I smiled. We could still catch Vesper and Bond fucking if we cleaned up in a hurry. “The good bit’s coming up. If you’re lucky it’ll get me in the mood.”

“You know, I am feeling lucky,” he said thoughtfully.