Short Story: That's How A First Time Should Feel

 

Monica Anne stood in the brightly lit high school hallway, fluorescent lights humming overhead against the beige walls. Her long, straight black hair fell past her shoulders, framing her milky white skin and the confident smile she always wore adorned with bright fire engine red lipstick. Silver metal cat ears crowned with a red flower sat perched on her head. Her red-and-white floral-patterned crop top clung tightly, the fabric’s bold blossoms and leafy print stretching across her full breasts and leaving her midriff bare. The matching red mini-skirt with the same floral accents rode high on her hips, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass in back. A red choker hugged her throat; matching red bracelets circled her wrists. Hands on her hips, legs slightly apart, she looked every bit the poised cheerleader. Around her, other girls in crop tops and short skirts clustered by the lockers, chatting. Monica Anne had been trying to keep her mind off the night before, the clumsy, disappointing fumbling with the boy who had been her first. She had told a few of the girls in the squad about it in the locker room earlier: how it had been quick, awkward, and left her feeling nothing but empty and a little sore. Word traveled fast. Dana spotted her across the crowded hall. Dana wore the exact same uniform — identical red-and-white floral crop top hugging her own full tits, the same high red floral mini-skirt, red choker, red bracelets, and silver cat ears with the red flower. Same long straight hair, though Dana’s was a dark brown instead of black, same smooth kin, though Dana’s was much more tan, same confident stance, though somehow Dana’s skirt was even shorter in the back. Dana moved through the throng of students with purpose, eyes locked on Monica Anne. “Hey,” Dana said, voice low and warm as she reached her. Without waiting for an answer, she slipped an arm around Monica Anne’s waist and steered her firmly toward the cheerleader locker room door. “Come with me,” Dana smiled. Monica Anne’s pulse jumped. “Dana? What’s—” “Shh,” Dana whispered, pushing the door open, pulling Monica Anne inside, and then quickly locking the door behind them. The locker room was empty. The air was still faintly scented with perfume and sweat from practice. Dark blue metal lockers lined the walls. A long wooden bench sat in the center. Dana turned, pressed Monica Anne back against a bank of lockers, and looked her straight in the eyes. “I heard what you told the girls. That boy didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. I’m going to show you how it’s supposed to feel.” Before Monica Anne could answer, Dana’s mouth was on hers — hot, open, insistent. Their tongues met, wet and sliding. Dana’s hands slid under the floral crop top, palms cupping Monica Anne’s bare tits. Her thumbs found Monica Anne’s nipples and rubbed in slow circles until they hardened into tight, aching peaks. Monica Anne moaned into the kiss, the sound muffled as Dana pinched and rolled the stiff buds. “Feel that?” Dana murmured against her lips. “Your nipples are so fucking hard already.” She shoved the crop top up, exposing both full breasts, the red floral fabric bunched above them. Dana lowered her head and sucked one rigid nipple deep into her mouth, tongue flicking, teeth grazing lightly. Monica Anne’s head fell back against the lockers with a soft thud, hips already shifting. Dana switched to the other nipple, sucking hard while her free hand slid down Monica Anne’s flat stomach and under the waistband of the red floral mini-skirt. Dana’s fingers slipped past the thin fabric of her panties and found her pussy already slick. “Jesus, you’re soaked,” Dana whispered, dragging two fingers through the wet folds, coating them. She circled Monica Anne’s clit slowly, then slid those same fingers inside her, curling them upward. Monica Anne’s knees trembled. “Dana…fuck…oh fuck…that feels—” “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dana smirked. She then immediately dropped to her knees on the cool tile, pushed the mini-skirt up around Monica Anne’s waist, and yanked her sexy little red lace thong panties down to her ankles. Dana then spread Monica Anne’s thighs, staring at the glistening pussy in front of her. “Pretty and dripping,” Dana said as she then leaned in and dragged her tongue in one long, slow lick from entrance to clit. Monica Anne cried out, hands flying to Dana’s hair, knocking her silver cat ears slightly askew. Dana licked deeper, tongue pushing into Monica Anne’s wetness, fucking Monica Anne with her warm, wet, wonderful tongue while her nose pressed against her swollen clit. Dana sucked the clit between her lips, flicked it rapidly, then went back to spearing her tongue inside. The wet, filthy sounds of licking and sucking filled the locker room. Monica Anne’s hips rolled against Dana’s face, smearing her juices across Dana’s chin and lips. Monica Anne was literally dancing with pleasure as Dana worked her magic on her wet pussy. Monica Anne’s hard nipples were still exposed above the rucked-up crop top as she panted, “Dana, don’t stop…please don’t stop…” Dana pulled back just long enough to stand, strip off her own crop top and mini-skirt in quick motions, and toss them aside on the locker room floor. Monica Anne smirked as she realized that Dana was completely bare underneath her crop top and skirt. Monica Anne took in the beautiful sight as she saw Dana’s beautiful hard nipples and her already shiny wet pussy. Dana guided Monica Anne down onto the wooden bench, then straddled her face, lowering her wet cunt onto Monica Anne’s mouth. “Your turn, babygirl,” Dana said, voice rough and lusty. “Lick me while I finish you.” Monica Anne’s tongue tentatively traced Dana’s folds, tasting the musky-sweet wetness. Dana groaned and ground down, riding Monica Anne’s mouth while she leaned forward, buried her face between Monica Anne’s thighs again, and resumed eating her with greedy, loud suction. They sixty-nined on the bench where they all changed for cheer practice. Dana’s fingers joined her tongue, two of them pumping in and out of Monica Anne’s dripping pussy while she sucked hard on her clit. Monica Anne mirrored her, tongue thrusting into Dana, then sliding up to circle the swollen pearl, sucking it between her lips. Dana’s hips jerked. “Fuck yes — suck my clit just like that.” She added a third finger, stretching Monica Anne, curling against the sensitive front wall. Monica Anne’s muffled moans vibrated against Dana’s pussy. The wet sounds grew louder — sloppy licking, fingers sliding through soaked flesh, soft wet smacks of skin. Monica Anne came first, thighs clamping around Dana’s head, pussy pulsing hard around the thrusting fingers, juices flooding Dana’s tongue and chin. Dana kept licking through it, drawing the orgasm out until Monica Anne was shaking and gasping. Then Dana sat up, turned, and straddled Monica Anne’s hips so their pussies pressed together—slick folds grinding, clits rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Dana leaned down and kissed Monica Anne deeply, sharing the taste of both of them. “Still think sex is disappointing?” Dana asked, rocking harder, their wet cunts sliding against each other with filthy, slippery friction. Monica Anne could only moan, hands gripping Dana’s ass, pulling her tighter. Dana reached between them, rubbed both clits with two fingers while they scissored, then dropped back down to suck Monica Anne’s still-hard nipples again. She worked lower once more, spreading Monica Anne’s legs wide and diving back in for another long, thorough tongue-fucking, this time adding the press of her thumb against Monica Anne’s asshole while she ate her out. Monica Anne came a second time, louder, hips bucking off the bench. Dana climbed up, guided Monica Anne’s mouth back to her own dripping pussy, and fucked her face with short, urgent thrusts until she came with a sharp cry, thighs quivering, flooding Monica Anne’s tongue. They stayed tangled on the bench afterward, breathing hard, chokers still on, cat ears crooked. Dana stroked Monica Anne’s hair and smiled. “That’s how a first time should feel,” she said softly. “Whenever you want more, you know where to find me.” Monica Anne, still trembling, could only nod, the memory of hard nipples, wet pussies, and the taste of Dana already burned into her very being. She kissed Dana softly, sweetly on the lips, contrasting the reckless passion of their earlier lovemaking – nay, fucking really – and Dana kissed Monica Anne back just as softly. They both knew there was something more than just sex there as they held each other tightly on the wooden locker room bench…