Date: Tue, 10 Aug 2004 19:52:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: ybother1122@yahoo.com
Subject: Good Girl - 3

DEAR NIFTY READERS,

This is a story about the sexual awakening of a young woman. If you
either; A) aren't into that, B) aren't old enough to be reading it, or
C) can't read, you should really stop here. If you liked (or hated) this
story, drop us a line at ybother1122@yahoo.com. Don't take anything you
read here too seriously, I certainly didn't.


Alone in the spare bedroom, Heather could hear them. Intimate whispers
drifted down the hallway and landed softly on her ears. She wanted them
to ask her to sleep between them, each with one arm wrapped around her,
but she knew they wouldn't. Whispers stopped. Then she heard moaning,
cooing. She knew they were making love, not playing like they did with
her, and she ached to be part of it. Her hand slipped under her cotton
nightgown, and she touched the warm and wet place between her legs, but
she fell asleep before she finished.


Heather slipped out of her robe, and got into the tub. She leaned back
against Denise, and rested her head on Denise's shoulder. Denise's arm
wrapped around Heather, and steam rose from her tanned skin.

"Let me wash your hair," Denise said, and Heather slid down into the
water. Heather didn't say a word as Denise shampooed her hair, and gently
rinsed, being sure to keep soap from getting her eyes. She said nothing
as Denise washed her back and caressed her skin with slippery soapy
hands. She said nothing until she was leaning against Denise's warm
breasts and abdomen, and Denise's arms were again wrapped around her.

"You're awfully quiet," Denise said. "You OK?"

Heather nodded.

"Are you comfortable here?"

Denise nodded again.

"Your room is comfortable? You slept well?"

Heather didn't say anything.

"Look at me, Heather."

Heather turned her face upward to look at Denise. Denise's breath smelled
like sweet mint.

"What's wrong?"

"I didn't sleep well. I was up too late."

"What kept you awake?"

"Just noises I guess."

"You mean you heard us?"

Heather nodded.

"Did that bother you?"

Heather said nothing. She wanted to tell Denise, but was afraid she would
cry.

"Were you feeling left out?"

The tears started, and Heather was defenseless to stop them.

"Heather, you don't have to feel that way. You know you're special to
both of us. But Steven and I have something more - something special.
He's my husband, and even though I love giving him the gift of
experiencing all things that give him pleasure, the thing that gives us
the most pleasure is each other. Alone. And some day you'll have that,
too. You understand, don't you?" She wrapped her arms tight around
Heather, and kissed her forehead, and Heather nodded. She understood.

The two were silent, and Denise softly stroked Heather's wet hair, and
they listened for a few minutes to nothing but the sounds of their
breathing and the water around them.

"Your birthday is tomorrow, and I think there's something I'd like to
give you," Denise said, out of nowhere.

Heather froze. What did Denise want her to have?

"I think it's time you lost your virginity. Are you ready for that?"

"I think I am."

"Look at me, Heather." Denise's eyes were dark and serious. "You know
that you are a gift Steven and I give each other, right?"

Heather didn't know what Denise was trying to say, but she nodded.

"We have rules. Steven is not to be with you alone. Not ever. Except
tonight. He will be with you, and I will not. And he will stay with you
until tomorrow morning, but will never do that again. This is my present
to you - there are some things that should be just between two people,
just like when you and I were first alone together. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"It's easy for a girl to get swept up in emotions and think she's in love
with the first man to get that close to her. If you want to save this
gift for a boy who is in love with you, you have every right to do that."

"Oh no. Please don't say that. I don't want a boy. I want...."

"That's just the thing. Steven is not a boyfriend. He will love that you
will share this sweet experience with him, but he will not be in love
with you."

"I don't care. I don't want to fall in love with the first boy to come
along. I want it this way."

Denise smiled.

"That's my girl. Such a smart, sweet girl."


Heather sat at the edge of the bed, her spine rigid, hands folded neatly
in her lap. She crossed one ankle over the other and pulled her bathrobe
tie a little tighter. She looked at the clock on the nightstand. 9:01.
She waited. 9:04. She waited 9:07. She waited. 9:17. Steven opened the
door, and his lips curled up at the ends at the sight of her
deer-in-the-headlights pose.

"Come here," he said, and opened his arms for her.

She stood and went to him, and buried her face in his bright white
t-shirt. He tugged at the end of her hair until she turned her face
upward to him. She waited, smelling his breath, until he kissed her.

His kisses are different than Denise's, she thought. Wetter. Bigger.
Prickly, despite the fresh shave. More tongue. He smells different. Like
soap and summer air.

He pulled away and put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her so that
she was facing the large mirror over the clear maple dresser. He reached
around to the front of her robe and untied it, and slipped it from her
shoulders.

"Look at how pretty you are," he whispered into her ear. He ran his large
but soft hands over her naked abdomen, then moved them upward to cover
her breasts. Steven leaned down to kiss her neck and Heather felt
goosebumps rise on the skin of her back. He took off his shirt, and she
stood perfectly still, watching their figures reflected in the mirror. He
slipped out of his shorts and wrapped his arms around her again. Her skin
looked so pale against the dark hair which covered his chest.

Heather's skin was silky, soft like a baby's. Her long river of black
hair smelled sweet, the slight aroma of shampoo covering the simple, meat
smell of another human being. There was no nicotine in her hair, no
flavor of alcohol from perfume on her flesh. Teenage girls are wasted on
teenage boys, he thought. The opposite is probably true, too. Her flesh
practically vibrated against his fingertips as they traveled along her
near-untouched body. He remembered his first; the clumsy fumbling and
embarassing performance. In time she'll see her fortune, he thought, her
first isn't having his first as well.

Steven wrapped his arm around her, resting it along her thigh and used
the other to guide her mouth to his. He had to remember to sip lightly at
her lips, there would be enough intrusion by him later. Tonight is not
about me.

She could feel him, growing hard against her, pressing her where the
curve of her ass met her back. He pressed himself against her, and
breathed warm into her ear.

She watched in the mirror as his hand drifted south, past her belly and
over the soft dark tuft of hair below. She sucked in her breath when
Steven's hand reached further and cupped over her already moist pussy. He
slipped a finger between the soft, slick folds, and she felt a sudden
current of heat through her body when it rubbed against the sensitive
swollen button in front. His fingers explored and rubbed and teased until
her knees felt weak underneath her.

Just when she thought they would buckle, he let go of her.

"Perhaps you should lie down," he whispered.

She pulled back the sheets on the bed and crawled in between them, and
watched as he walked naked across the room, his cock leading him to her
like a divining rod to water.

She didn't even look at his face, but watched as the rod came toward her,
and stopped at the end of the bed. The rod's owner pulled the sheets and
duvet from the bed in one brisk tug.

Then he was on her. Hands roaming, legs pushing between hers. Fingers in
her hair, on her nipples, lips covering her face and neck with kisses.
Fingers stroking her skin, then pushing inside her aching pussy. He
speaks to her in the same voice she heard drift down the hall the night
before. Lovely, he says. So beautiful. Do you want me? So ready. Need to
be inside you. Want you,want you,want you.

Steven took her hand and guided it to his cock, placing her grip near the
base. He knew the importance of letting her have as much control over the
situation as possible. Once her own grip replaced his, he pulled back
slightly...then used her grasp to move closer toward her warmth. He was
close enough to her to feel her humidity on his skin.

Her hips push up against him, begging him to take her. Then she feels
him, pushing - trying enter. Sharp stab of pain. Whimper. Stinging. He's
moving inside her, and the pain is still sharp, but she can't help but
move with him. She hears the noise. It's the noise she couldn't force out
of him with her lips and tongue, but now she hears it - the low growl of
pleasure that starts somewhere deep inside him and escapes in a long
urgent breath.

She grinds against him, and tries to pull him in deeper. He moves slower.
Then faster. Deeper. Pushing against her clit. She's dizzy. Then slower.
Then faster and deeper again, until the growl becomes a grunt and a
shiver, and he stops moving. He kisses her deeply again, and she sucks
his breath into her mouth.

The sting never disappeared, not even when she fell asleep with his arms
wrapped around her. When she woke, she was 17.


Please contact me at ybother1122@yahoo.com.