Pandora's Box

This story starts here.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. What do you want me to do?” I asked, a bit whiny with fear.

“Lie down on the bed.”

I did as I was told. Steve moved about the room a bit, adjusting curtains, before coming to the bed. He immediately laid down on top of me and kissed me, his tongue moved into my mouth almost immediately.

It was the first time I’d kissed a boy. And it was heavenly.

I was brought back to memories of my childhood best friend and I in the bathtub as children. We’d read about tongue kissing in a Judy Bloom book that had said French kissing was like eating raw hot dogs. We would count to three, quickly touch tongues and then say, “Ew! Hot dogs!” Kissing Steve was nothing like eating raw hot dogs. He tasted good, and he felt good. I asked him what he’d eaten. I guess it was a weird question, but kind of followed in my train of thought with the hot dogs.

“Nothing. Just apple juice, that’s all. Why?” The question seemed to have made him a little nervous.

“You taste good,” I told him, averting my eyes from shyness.

Steve untucked my shirt and moved his hand under my tank top. This was all strange and exciting. He was touching my stomach, his hand gliding over the skin sensually, in a way no one had ever touched me before. He continued kissing me all the while. He quickly slid my bra up and squeezed my breasts brusquely.

Not having had my breasts touched before, his touch felt erotically exciting, despite the harsh movements he used.

Then he moved to my pants. He unzipped them and slid his hand inside. Within seconds, I felt his finger inside me, which was a bit unpleasant and stung a little.

All of a sudden, a car door slammed outside and Steve jumped up.

“Shit! It’s my brother!"

(to be continued)