Page 12 of Tormented Mountain Man

7

JOELY

This was going to hurt like hell. I knew it. But I couldn’t help but feel turned on as I spread my legs slightly and looked back over my shoulder at him.

Did this look sexy or ridiculous? Probably the latter. There was no way my legs were spread wide enough for him to slide inside me. But if I spread them any wider, I’d definitely not look sexy anymore.

“Tell me when it hurts,” he said, moving in behind me.

I thought of what the doctor always said before sliding that metal contraption into me.Relax. It won’t hurt as much.It worked then, and it would work now. At least that was what I told myself.

I closed my eyes and took deep, slow breaths, forcing my body to unclench. Nothing happened behind me, though. He was waiting for my go-ahead.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

Let’s do this? Was that something a virgin said before her first time? I had no idea. There wasn’t exactly a playbook for this sort of thing.

It took some adjusting, but eventually we got an angle that allowed him to enter me. He was careful, though, gently probing my entrance.

Relax, relax, relax.

I kept repeating the word like it was a yoga mantra. I didn’t know if it was helping or not, but it definitely took my mind off what was happening. When he slid a little farther, I tensed, but not for the reason I expected.

No, this actually felt good. If he could stay right there, moving in and out, passing over my clit, while my pussy juices coated his tip, I’d be just fine.

“A little deeper,” I said.

He obliged, but I found myself gripping the railing. Yeah, that hurt. That was the pain I’d expected.

Relax, relax, relax.

“Deeper,” I said.

I wanted to officially lose my virginity. I wasn’t sure what we were doing counted.

I didn’t cry out, though. I was trying to keep myself as relaxed as possible. I couldn’t tell if it was even helping.

But what would happen if I touched myself? I’d never tried before, but he’d already shown me what to do. It might take my mind off the pain.

My clit was still slippery. I’d never felt it before, even though I could have. But at first, touching it did nothing, so I closed my eyes and remembered the sight of him, his head between my legs, looking up at me to gauge my reaction.

Then I pictured us now, out in the open, the night air warming our skin. He was naked, thrusting in and out of me, trying not to go too deep but looking hot as hell while he was doing it. Someday he’d slam into me, following my command to go deeper, harder, faster.

That was doing it. A part of my mind was still aware of the pain, but there was a growing awareness of the pleasure, and that was drowning it out.

I just had to keep touching myself. This would get easier. It had to.

“Are you touching yourself?” I heard him ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I said.

“Are you still wet?”

He’d know that. He was inside me. But I knew what he was going for.

“So wet,” I said. “You make me wet just looking at you.”

He groaned, and I knew the dirty talk was working on him too. That was probably bad. He was trying to hold out. Maybe I should jump in and help.

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