I was at a friend's place watching the Alabama playoff game on New Year's Eve. Bama was winning big, so they went on to the party at the bar up the street. I told them I would see them at halftime. I was meeting some Lifestyle friends and they were bringing a unicorn to be my "date" since mine cancelled at the last minute. When the half ended, I went out their back door and walked along the unlit trail that circled around the lake and behind the condos. That's when I saw her. In the light. She was young and beautiful, sitting on her lanai watching the same game I was watching. I said hello and she said hi. And I had been plucked from the darkness.

     I walked toward the screen enclosure and she walked to the screen door. We made small talk and she asked if I was going to the party. Everybody in the neighborhood was. I told her I had an extra ticket if she wanted to go. And she paused. 

     "Assuming you're over twenty-one."

     "I'm over twenty-one," she squeaked.

     I knew that was a lie, but I didn't care. She said it. Turned out she was eighteen. Barely eighteen. I gave her my number and told her to text me if she changed her mind. She kissed me goodbye. A gentle kiss. Her lips were so soft with just a hint of plumpness. I didn't want to leave, but there were friends to fuck and drinks to drink and fun to be had. I met my LS friends in front of the big screen TV that was playing my game. They were Gator fans and relished in teasing me that the game was over and my team was going to win. 

     "Yea, but I like to watch the Freshmen play. See who we have for next year."

     I got to meet my date. She was cute. Not exactly my type, but she turned out to be a good slut and a lot of fun to fuck. Then my phone buzzed. The girl in the light was texting me. 

     Do you wanna come back over?

     Yes

     Hurry up. You'll have to be gone by 11

     I didn't have to ask why. I knew it wasn't her husband that was coming home. It was already ten o'clock and I didn't want to waste any time, because I wanted to take every second. I walked over to the spot where we met. She invited me into the light. We kissed again, but this time with more wanton passion. I was gentle and let her lead at her pace. Why did she want me? She was thirty years my junior and gorgeous.

     Together, we pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her breasts were perfect. Small C's with silver dollar areola. Dark pink with tiny nipples right in the center. Same color. Nary a blemish. They looked like two blonde brownies God had just taken out of the oven to cool. She led me to the bedroom and opened the drawer of the nightstand. She grabbed a condom from a bowl that held a variety of sizes and flavors. She obviously had not seen me naked yet. She removed her jeans and I took off my clothes. My cock was already excited and engorged to the hilt. Her pussy was shaved bare and her slit was a perfect perpendicular line bisecting her perfect labia. We met again to kiss, flesh on flesh and she fell back onto the bed.

     I caressed her full breasts and began to kiss each one individually. Her excitement was blatant. Her eyes were squished shut and her mouth agape. Tiny shrieks of pleasure leaked out. I kissed her firm stomach and flicked my tongue into her tiny belly button. Because I could.

     I was fully inserted into her tight little pussy. Balls deep, as we say. Pelvis to pelvis and skin to skin. Her canal walls had gripped my penis tightly like the cotton strips on a mummy. I could feel every inch of her insides, every muscle contraction, every mind-numbing orgasm. She had squinched her eyes tighter and her mouth was almost grimacing. It was pain and pleasure and I let her have that. I couldn't fuck her. I couldn't make love to her. I couldn't move. I felt that if I stroked at all, I would rip her stem to stern. This is what Sting calls Tantric sex. Making Love on Xanax. I ran my fingers through her hair. I caressed her supple skin. I kissed her forehead. I enjoyed every throb and heartbeat of her writhing body. I was barely able to push a micrometer further inside, for that was what her puffy pussy lips allowed, without separating a cell of our contact. Tap tap tap on her cervix door. She took a final deep breath and tapped me twice on the shoulder. That was all she could take. I asked if I could have another moment so I could cum and she said yes. 

     I pulled out ever so slightly and only a fraction of a fraction. The small gap between the condom and the base of my shaft allowed for a tiny bit of skin on skin play. It was also the most sensitive part of my penis. Very gently. Very slowly. A stroke. And a stroke. And I came. Exploding inside the condom with a mind-blowing emotional orgasm. I kissed her tenderly on the lips and slowly removed my softening member from her body. Instead of hanging off the tip, all the semen in the reservoir was jammed up against my head. I noticed a smattering of blood and mucus on the tip of the condom, so I touched her stomach and whispered, "Don't move."

     I went into the bathroom, turned on the warm water and discarded the condom in the toilet. I grabbed a washcloth and washed my member while the water was still cold with a little hand soap. When the water warmed up, I soaked a cloth, rang it out, and folded it neatly in my hand. When I returned to the bedroom, she was standing up and walking towards me. I softly placed my left hand on her shoulder and stopped her. With my right hand I lifted the cloth to her heated nether area and placed it along her hidden opening. I raised my middle finger so that the cloth went between her labia majoris and into the tiny opening I had just had the pleasure to enter. She reached down and took the towel away from me.

     "Am I bleeding?" she gasped.

     "It's okay, sweetheart." I reassured, "I'm bigger than most men. It happens sometimes."

     I'll forever remember what she said next.

     "Is that my hymen?"