Page 7 of Heart Throb

GRIFFIN

Iremember the day I lost my virginity. Her name was Sherry Douglas and she was in the grade ahead of me in school. We fogged up the back of my dad’s truck at makeout point and I kindly, if not hurriedly, asked her if it’d be okay if I took off her skirt.

Sherry was known for being a loose girl. There was nothing wrong with that, in fact, it’s one of the reasons why I wanted to date her. I was tired of being a sixteen-year-old virgin. I wanted to experience the finer things in life like beer, partying, and good women. My older brother would buy me cheap beer in exchange for doing all his chores, which in turn gave me access to all the parties I wanted to go to. But the ladies were something else entirely. So when Sherry Douglas said she’d go out with me, I was as happy as a pig in mud.

You bet your ass I was as good as a two-pump chump. It was the best thirty seconds of my life at sixteen. Sherry even patted me on the ass and said that wasn’t the worst she’d ever had.

You only get better at sex by doing it. I spent the next year doing it as often as I could. And wouldn’t you know that Sherry Douglas was willing to teach a naive boy a thing or two? Every Friday night before my friends and I split a six-pack and pretended all it took was a single beer to get us drunk, I rutted around in Sherry until the both of us were screaming.

I perfected my technique on her. From thrusting my hips just right to learning how to lick her like a lollipop. Sherry wasn’t afraid to bop me on the head and tell me I was being too rough with her button. I graduated from high school with more than a degree in basic math and English. I went to college with a skill set that men my age were barely putting into practice.

My years of service to women come into practice in the backseat of the car with Camilla. My breath comes in frantic pants as I touch her, desperate to consume all of her at once. I caress the soft skin of her belly and feel the goosebumps on her arms. My lips graze the sharp bone of her collar as I leave an imprint of my teeth against the curvature of her neck.

I feel her hands tentatively explore beneath my shirt. Her fingers are light against my skin, as if unsure of the journey or their destination. Her foot presses against the door as she tries to arch her back, pushing her body into mine. Camilla’s moans are soft, almost indecipherable from the music playing on the speaker.

In the recesses of my mind, I lock away these memories for later. I remember the way her face looks in the flashes of moonlight. The sight of her biting her lip when I grind my hips against hers just right. The sound of her breathy little moans when I suck on the tender flesh at the nape of her neck. The taste of her tongue on my lips when she becomes brave enough to kiss me without any prompting. The feeling of her silky smooth thighs when I peel off her pants. The scent of her arousal mixed with mine. Camilla delights all of my senses and more.

“Be gentle,” she admits when I hook my fingers in the waistband of her panties and start to slide them off. “I-it’s my first time.”

We should be in a bed surrounded by candles and flower petals. Something soft and soothing should be playing on the radio. Her first time should be perfect, not in the back of my car on the side of Bourbon Peak after a late-night shift at the golf course. “Maybe we should wait.”

Camilla reaches down to cover my hand with hers. I can feel the hesitance in her grasp, the tender shakiness. “No,” she reassures me, “I want this. I want you. No one has ever made me feel the way that you do.”

That isn’t saying much. I have shown her the kindness that she has always deserved. I have treated her the way that men and people always should have. But still, I want her. So I remove the panties and toss them aside. They fall to the floorboard of the car, disappearing into darkness.

I spread Camilla’s thighs and lower myself between them. There isn’t much room in this backseat, but I don’t need it. I nuzzle my nose along her thigh, an intimate gesture that I often do with women just to acquaint myself with them, then I delve deeper.

Her center is slick from our foreplay and she tastes sweet as nectar. I run my tongue along the full length of her slit and she bows her back considerably. Her moans take center stage as she comes to life.

I could praise her a thousand ways, say a million times that she is perfect, but it wouldn’t compare to this moment. I wrap my tongue around her clit and I can hear her suck in air. I insert my fingers into her core and small little whimpers escape through her lips.

There are moments in life when you know that you have made the right choice. You know without any questions, without any doubt. When Camilla grapples to curl her fingers around something, when she struggles to grab onto something for purchase, I know that this is one of those moments. All of my fears that I have made the wrong choice in pursuing and protecting her fall by the wayside. The age difference means nothing. The close bonds between her father and me are ancient history. She and I are all that matter.

I could kick myself for wasting so much time on other women, not that it would have mattered because Camilla was underage, but still. I spent years toiling away with women who didn’t give me the satisfaction that Camilla does. It’s only been a few weeks, but I feel more at home living in Camilla’s trailer than I ever have anywhere else. I feel more useful fixing up the broken pieces of her life, picking her up from work, and making her late-night dinners than I ever have with anyone else.

It’s funny how you spend so much time searching for the right person. You work so hard to make yourself fit into the box that makes you perfect for someone else, only for it to not work out. Then along comes someone you weren’t expecting and it turns out they were the right one all along. You don’t have to force yourself into a box because you’re perfect just the way you are.

Camilla screams my name when she comes and her juices coat my stubble. I will smell like her for hours and it’s the sexiest thing I could imagine.

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