As I lay cradled in Ryan’s arms on the bathroom floor, the reality, the sheer
perversity of the whole thing didn’t hit home really. What managed to
penetrate the pleasure induced haze that inhabited my brain was the amazing
sense of power that I derived from controlling the situation. It was better
than drugs or alcohol by far. Of course, in our culture now, that would have
earned me the label of teen ‘sex addict’. When I finally stirred, Ryan helped me to my feet and I followed him as he
went to his closet in search of another pair of slacks. I enforced my will
and the slacks stayed on the hanger in favor of a pair of silk pajama bottoms
that were obviously a gift from a past lover.

(Men, by and large, don’t buy
themselves that sort of thing.) We went back to the living room and had
another piece of the torte. “I’ve never done that with anyone since, well, since Marie,” Ryan said. “I suppose this was one of the stories your old girlfriend got so freaked out
about?” “No, I never told her that.” “What? Then there’s more you’re not telling me?” I asked around a mouthful of
berries. “I think one fantasy fulfillment a night is plenty you wicked girl,” Ryan
laughed as he put down his plate and reached for me. His mouth on mine was
like an instantaneous aphrodisiac. My nipples stiffened and my panties
suffered another mini-flood. “Perhaps you should show me what it is you’ve got hiding under that lovely
dress of yours, I got only a glimpse earlier and definitely want more.” I pulled away and stood in the middle of the room and performed a slow
striptease. The longish skirt working to my advantage as I used the hemline
to give flirtatious peeps of the tops of my stockings. Reaching behind my
neck, I untied the halter and drew the edges down slowly, revealing my large,
firm, fifteen year old breasts with pert brown nipples standing at attention.
I watched his reaction. His face registered slight amusement at my antics
while his pajama clad cock gave me the approval I was seeking. I caressed my tits like I’d seen in the few movies that had seen fit to
include strip scenes at that time. (48 Hours being the only one I could think
of at the time.) The look I got moved past amusement and I really started to
get into it. I sucked on my fingers and brought them back to my nipples,
wetting them and teasing them. The sensation made the ache in my pussy stronger and I hurried a little in my
activity. I turned my back to him and unzipped the dress, allowing it to
puddle at my feet while I bent to touch my toes, giving Ryan a look of my taut
ass clad in cream panties and framed with a garter belt and lacy stockings. I
ran my hands down the backs of my legs, then turned to face him again, going
for the horny little girl look with the fingers of my left hand in my mouth
and the fingers of my right hand delving into my panties to torment my already
throbbing clit. Ryan responded in kind and as I removed my panties for better access, he began
caressing his dick through the PJ’s. I watched fascinated as the pre-cum
quickly darkened a round spot on the front and continued to finger myself
while rolling a sensitive nipple with the other hand. He untied the string
and slid his hand into the pants, jacking slowly for my pleasure, the head of
his cock slowly emerging from the silk. I wanted it to continue forever, or
at least until he came, but my cunt was begging to be filled. I tried to
assuage the need by placing a heel-shod foot delicately on the coffee table
and sliding my own fingers deep into my snatch. What that got me was a muffled groan from Ryan and before I could do or say
much else, he was up off the couch, stepping out of the PJ’s that had
slithered from his form and practically tackling me to the carpeted floor. I
spread my legs wide and he unerringly penetrated my pussy with his rigid dick. “Ahhhh!” I sighed as he drove his prick to the hilt. What followed was a
fucking like I’d never had before in my life. He slammed in and out of me
almost viciously, making sure to pull almost all the way out, then bury
himself as deep as he could before doing it all over again. The pace he set
was furious and we were both sweating profusely as he pulled out and turned me
onto my stomach. Ryan grasped my hips and thrust forward again, eliciting a yelp of pleasure
from me. He continued the same frantic pace using my hips as a handhold to
pull me onto him. “Play with your clit,” he urged, pumping his hips against me. “I can’t!” I squeaked. I thought that if I did that, I was somehow debasing
his performance. Women were supposed to cum when they were penetrated with a
dick without any other stimulation. (Oh young and ignorant girl!) “Do it, finger your clitty just like you were doing before,” Ryan said as he
continued to pummel my teen pussy. “It’s not an affront to my masculinity.” Was this guy reading my mind or what? I conceded and tentatively touched a
finger to the swollen bud. It *did* feel good. Real good. I began to tease
at it more boldly, as if I were getting myself off at home. The pleasure
built quicker than I could control and my cunt convulsed in orgasm as Ryan
slammed his rod harder and faster than I thought was possible. I eased off my clitoris and reached down to graze his balls each time he
pushed into me. At my touch his pace slowed. He obviously appreciated my
touch. The more leisurely pace, combined with fondling his sac brought me
sharply back to plateau and when I touched my clit again, he covered my hand
and together we worked the flesh till I was screaming in wave after pulsing
wave of orgasms that didn’t seem to end but were rather connected. I found myself underneath him again. He spread my legs and continued to tease
my clit as he again penetrated me. “I want to see you play with your tits Kris,” Ryan said huskily. I immediately complied and looked deep into his green eyes, relishing the look
of lust that seemed to grow stronger with each thrust. He threw his head back
and his body arced into mine as his cock pumped hard. The smaller waves of
orgasm gave way again to the titanic swells and I screamed his name while he
flooded my cunt with cum. It had been a sexcapade worthy of “Letters” and I told him so. “Well, I’m
glad I could live up to your expectations!” he laughed. “It wasn’t really an expectation Ryan,” I protested, “I just used to read
where couples would fuck for hours and hours it seemed.

You should try
getting a high school boy to keep his hard-on for over fifteen minutes.
That’s including foreplay!” “That is a place I’ll never go Kris.” “Where?” “You won’t ever catch me trying to get a boy to keep his hard-on at all!” “I didn’t mean you! I meant me!” “I know what you meant. When does school start for you?” Ryan asked a little
more seriously. “September sixth I think, why?” “Just wondering. I don’t guess you’ll be having much time once classes begin
for dinners with an old man.” I leaned up on one arm. “Now why would you say that?,” I asked a little
petulantly. “I don’t think you’re old either. Are you trying to get rid of
me?” I queried with suspicion in my voice and on my face. Ryan sighed as he took me in his arms and I rested on his chest, our faces
inches apart. “No, I’m not trying to get rid of you Kristianna. What I’m
doing is illegal in damn near every one of the fifty states, and I couldn’t
bring myself to stop this if I even wanted to.” I glanced at the time and nearly killed him as I jumped to my feet. “I should
have worn my digital watch with the alarm! Do you know what time it is?!”
The clock pointed ominously to one-thirty a.m. “I am now officially a half
hour late, and I haven’t even taken a shower yet.” I scrambled into my dress
and Ryan zipped it and helped tie it. My hair, a disheveled mess, I twisted
up and stuffed the combs in haphazardly. I kissed him on my way out the door
and he said he’d meet me at the pool the next day. When I got home, my mother wasn’t even there yet. Work always took longer
than expected. I stripped and took a quick shower. Later when I lay in bed I
thought a little about Ryan and realized, with a start, that although I liked
the power, the control he gave me in the ‘relationship’, it was more than
that. I genuinely cared for the man, deeper than any guy I’d been with. It
would prove to be a near fatal flaw in the armor I’d made for myself since the
rape. Ryan and I continued to see each other until Christmas. The sex was nothing
short of amazing, incomparable really until very recently with a man I’ve
never met in person. (You know who you are!) The relationship was not all
about sex. Ryan taught me about life. He took the time to tutor me in
geometry when I was ready to throw the book at the instructor. He recognized
my need to write as well and encouraged me to do so. Ryan treated me as an equal on every level and looked at the age difference as
merely a knowledge disparity. On another level though, we both knew that the
relationship was ‘wrong’ in the sense that if it were discovered, he would
lose everything and possibly face incarceration. A week before Christmas, Ryan invited me over for dinner. In my heart, I knew
it would be the last time we would be together intimately. An old girlfriend
had been in contact with him since Thanksgiving and he’d spotted her driving
by his condo a couple of occasions. I’d thought that would put a damper on
our activities, and I could live with that, it wouldn’t be too bad, if he
loved her, I could manage to be happy for him. As we dined on cracked crab
he’d brought back from San Francisco that day he told me. “I’m moving at the first of the year Kris.” I nodded. “The promotion came through for you?” I queried. “Yes.” The single word hung in the air. “Ryan, I’m so happy for you. This is what you’ve been waiting for!” He lowered his head a little and sighed. I watched disbelievingly as tears
dropped on his plate. I had been preparing myself mentally for this for
weeks. I’d known it was going to happen, for whatever reason, and a promotion
was better than the other reasons for the demise of our relationship I’d
surmised. (Old girlfriend truthfully included!) What I hadn’t prepared for
was how he’d feel about it. This was totally new ground.

Men talk about that
feeling of helplessness or anger that they get when a woman cries, shit, try
being on the other end of the spectrum. “I’ll miss you Kristianna,” Ryan said as he wiped at his eyes and looked up. What was I supposed to say? Me too? Obviously I would. But there was more
and I wasn’t willing to burden him with it. What now twenty-nine year old,
(We’d celebrated his birthday in October.) needed his fifteen year old play
toy to declare her undying love for him? I hadn’t realized it, but it was
true. I was in love with him. What was less obvious for me was that he was
in love with me. I could have gone to my grave happily not knowing that fact.
I could have borne the burden of young teen loving older man. The whole
unrequited thing. His next words broke my heart damn near irreparably. “I love you,” Ryan said, looking into my eyes and finding the confirmation he
sought. “Damn it! Why did you have to say it Ryan? There isn’t anything good that
can be brought by those words now,” I finally exploded after long moments of
silence. The storm I’d kept locked up sprung forth from the depths. My
throat clotted with tears and my eyes reddened as the threatened flood became
reality. “I’m sorry, oh God, I’m sorry Kris! I thought,” he paused, disengaging
himself from the table cloth that had snagged his belt. “I just thought it
would make it easier, knowing I didn’t use you. You mean so much more to me
than just sex.” “Fuck you!” “Don’t do this, please Kristianna, don’t leave like this,” he practically
begged as I abruptly lunged for the door. Ryan blocked my leaving with his
body and took my blows to his midsection rather stoically. I stood sobbing
and out of breath when he reached out and pulled me to him.

“I hate you for this Ryan,” I said angrily, “It would have been so much easier
if you’d just left, or said you found someone else, or just told me anything
other than that you cared. Now you leave me with a hole that anyone who tries
to fill will fall into, failing miserably in comparison!” I unbottoned the
oxford shirt he wore and worked at his belt next. “Put yourself in my shoes!”
I finished as his slacks dropped to the floor and I pushed the shirt from his
shoulders. He kicked off his loafers and stood before me naked. “What can I give you? What can I do to make this better Kris?” “Nothing,” I said as I stripped. The black jeans skimmed down revealing lacy
black lyric panties, the black cashmere sweater came off over my head
revealing a matching stretch lace camisole. I bent and removed my black
leather pumps and kicked the jeans to the side while stripping the camisole to
reveal my full breasts. “Be me, Ryan,” I said as I slid the panties down and
off. Both undergarments dangled from my fingers as I looked at his shriveled
manhood. “Let me show you how you treat a fifteen year old slut.” I wiped at
my eyes with the fabric before shoving them at him. Ryan didn’t object. He didn’t say a word as he took my underwear from me and
balancing awkwardly put first one foot, then the other into the leg holes and
drew the lace panties up and over his well-muscled thighs. The lycra indulged
my request and soon the object of my humiliation stood before me, clad, a
little tightly, in my black lace camisole and matching hi-cut briefs.

I slid
my feet back into my heels in order to stand almost as tall as my companion,
roughly pinched his nipples through the fabric. Ryan didn’t move. “Little slut!” I said, moving forward and grinding my mouth against his. His
mouth opened obediently to my tongue and I probed it furiously while
tormenting his nipples. I pushed my pelvis into his and was a little startled
to feel his burgeoning erection. “Bitch likes to be man-handled doesn’t she?”
I said derisively, dropping my hand to squeeze his dick hard. He leaned
forward a little and tried to kiss me. I danced away, ordering him into the
living room so that I could see him better in his ‘new look’. Ryan stood with his head down and I ordered him to stand tall with his head
up. “Do yourself proud bitch,” I bit out, shoving the camisole further up to
reveal his tight abs. His cock pushed insistently at the already over-
stretched fabric. I continued to circle him, running my hands over his frame,
pinching his ass and nipples occasionally and crudely fondling his now rock
hard erection and balls through my lace panties. I shoved the camisole
further up and exposed the taut little nubs, lowering my head a I began to
lick and suck at them. He sucked in his breath and I nipped at them with my
teeth before standing in front of him once again. “What are you doing Kris?” he asked in a voice laden with emotion. “Shut the fuck up, slut,” I commanded as my hand flashed out and made hard
contact with the side of his face, “What gives you the right to ask
questions?”

I moved forward and drew his head to mine for another violent
kiss before pushing him to his knees. “Suck my dick bitch,” I said coldly.
He complied to the best of his ability and loving lathed my labia with his
tongue before teasing at my engorged clitoris. The high from my anger
dissipated and I was left feeling hollow and awful for attempting to punish a
man whose only crime was loving a willing fifteen year old and telling her
what she already knew was coming. I sank to my knees and drew him to me, our tears mingling as I whispered over
and over how sorry I was. Age and roles were forgotten as we comforted each
other in the only way possible. Ryan wiped futilely at my smeared mascara
then settled for kissing me deeply. I tore at the camisole and it gave way
with a few tugs, shredding at the seams. The panties I pushed down enough to reveal his hard cock before engulfing it
in my mouth. He groaned and laying back, drew my legs over his shoulders to
delicately suckle on my wet pussy. Dinner was forgotten as we feasted on each
other for long moments. As the head of his cock began to swell, Ryan pushed
me away and reversed positions, kissing my mouth, the tastes of one another
mingling on our tongues as he pushed into me. We made love slowly, my black lace panties trapped around his thighs, for what
seemed like hours. I traced my fingers over his face, memorizing it,
agonizing at the red marks my digits had left in my anger. He in turn covered
my face with kisses. The pace had been so slow that my orgasm snuck up on me,
shattering over me with the emotional force of a tsunami. Ryan kissed the
tears that slid down my cheeks as I cried out in pain and pleasure. His cock
throbbed and he came, almost as an afterthought. “I love you too Ryan,” I said as he held me tight, trying not to crush me into
the carpet. “I know.” We made love over and over again that evening until I left finally around two
in the morning. It was a dismally sunny day when the movers came the day after New Year’s Day.
I went shopping with my mother and waved as we passed him by, loading a few
suitcases in his car. He smiled sadly and waved back. We slowly pulled away
and I watched in the mirror as he got behind into the driver’s seat and rested
his head on the steering wheel. My first love. Not some little girl’s movie star fantasy. Not a tawdry teen
affair that’s a parody of Romeo and Juliet. I’ve wondered, off and on over
the years, if he ever found someone who could accept who he was. I’ve not
left anything out of this. He’d recognize himself if he actually read stuff
like this. Maybe he does now. It’s hard enough to find and marry a person
who you can live with moderately easily, let alone one who shares all the
particular predilections that inhabit one’s mind. End note to Jon: This is for you. I promise that I won’t let the good-bye
repeat itself with you, forget what I said earlier. I can’t dismiss another
love from my life when I don’t have to. It is what it is and I’ll enjoy it
for that for as long as it’s available.