She pulled her lips away, but I remained gelatinous. “(That was such a cute noise you made,)” she whispered.
“(What… noise?)” I squeaked.
“Kind of a whimper-slash-moan.” She kissed my neck again, and this time I heard it. She moved to my throat, which caused me to make the same sound and feel even weaker.
“(Right there,)” I whispered as my chest began to heave. She kissed my throat once more, and I whimpered again. She kissed my chin, which was not arousing in and of itself, but made clear to me she was heading for my mouth, thus stirring my anticipation.
And then she really kissed me. I grunted between our lips and my instincts took over. I wrapped my arms around her neck, kissed her back for a while, then gave into the urge to shove my tongue into her mouth. She giggled, then cruelly pried her mouth an eighth of an inch away from mine.
“(Why—hah—did you stop?)” I whimpered while trying to catch my breath.
“I just wanted to point out that you’re a natural.” To my relief, she resumed kissing me.
Over the course of the next few eternal minutes of her touch, a need within me grew, a need for more which I was compelled to satisfy. With simultaneous reluctance and eagerness, I pulled away and told her, “If you don’t mind, Judith… I’d like to invoke the ‘fuck’ part of our fuckbuddy agreement. Right now.”
“I think we should take it slow, since this is your first time.”
“I’m ready.”
“You aren’t.”
My clitoris, vagina, cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries began conspiring to overthrow my brain. “You can’t know that. Only I can know whether I’m ready.”
“I’ve had a lot of partners. I’m pretty good at telling when people are ready.”
My reproductive organs began their assault, but with all my strength I was able to maintain control and force myself to reply, “Alright. Fine. You’re older but wiser—” She snorted. “What?”
“Nothing. There’s a song in a musical—never mind.”
“Alright… If not sex, what do we do next?”
“Foreplay.” She began unbuttoning my shirt—I took that as my cue to pull her tee up to her armpits; she took the hint and raised her arms, allowing me to pull it off and expose her toned-but-not-chiseled abs and her bare and surprisingly youthful breasts. While she resumed unbuttoning my shirt, I marveled at them, imagined touching them and feeling how soft they were. I spread my fingers out and held them inches from them, coiled tight and ready to spring forward and latch on. She giggled. “Damn, you’re eager.” I wanted to grab them, and I wanted her to grab mine and do things with them.
I grunted, and as she untucked my uniform shirt I hastily ‘unbuttoned’ (popped off) the last button and cast it away without care for where it landed before ripping open my tank top and disposing of it likewise. She pulled my sports bra up and over my head, letting my ironically more mature breasts bounce, and as soon as my hands were free, I grabbed her tits and brushed my thumbs across her nipples, causing her to gasp. I devoured her tender chest as she squeezed mine; she pinched my nips, forcing from me a yelp of pleasure. I wanted to rub my tits against hers but couldn’t quite get them to meet because of our height difference, so I leaned against her chest until she got the hint to lie down. Once she was on her back, I climbed on top of her and rubbed myself against her.
By chance I breathed in through my nose and caught a full blast of her scent—