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For a second there is silence. Her lips quiver and break into a smile. Slowly the smile is replaced by a chuckle, which turns into peals of laughter. ‘This is pathetic,’ she says, ‘even a loser like you should know better.’ Her eyes are no longer soft. They seemed cold, frightening somehow. ‘Who are you anyway, I don’t even know you?’ I try to tell her, tell her of the times we have bumped into each other, at the football field and on the way home. I explain to her that she once smiled and waved at me. ‘And that made you think what?’ she asks her voice indignant, ‘wait till I tell everyone at school,’ she says throwing the rose away before walking off. I gently pick up the fallen flower. After a day in the heat it has withered. Its petals have fallen away. It will never flower into the beauty and radiance to which I had imagined. Like our love, it is finished. I somehow manage to make it home without crying, and rush straight into the bathroom, where the tears can flow freely. I. Her pussy stretched, yawned wide for him, she was wet, he was slick so slowly she accepted him, there was no pain, no hurtful tearing of her virginity; her brush handle had taken care of that. They worked carefully together until she was sitting on his balls, he was buried in her as far as he could go. He began to move gently, pushing in, pulling out, fucking her softly. She rolled her slender hips, rocking on him as her body loosened, easing the way for his pulsing hard-on. A fire started in her belly, her heart hammered in her ears, the tightness between her thighs eased as he thrust in and out. He put his hands on her flat chest and pinched the tiny nipples which made her gasp with pain but it was a good pain, a pleasureful pain. He rubbed the small nubs and she felt them stiffen as tendrils of pleasure radiated from his thumbs. He put his hands around her firm petite ass and held her tight while his stiffness slid in and out of her with more urgency, she dropped her head.
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