Page 12 of Art for the Anarchist (Rejected 2)

We get maybe ten minutes down the road before she is tapping my shoulder and pointing to an old, abandoned dirt road. I pull a good way down it before parking on one side, where there is a little notch in the road where trees cover us from all sides but one. I feel Rissa moving around behind me, and just as I turn, I see her helmet fall to the ground, her hair flying around her in beautiful waves.

“I couldn’t take it anymore. The vibrations down here are too much to bear. I need you in me now. Please fix it. I’m feeling… too much, Dean,” Rissa says, swinging her legs around and placing her ass on the gas tank, facing me. She reaches down and finds the button on my jeans, popping it open and unzipping me while I do the same to her.

“Do you really want to lose your virginity on my bike, on a dirt road, where anyone could see us?” I ask, but I don’t stop wiggling her jeans down as she lifts her ass up.

“Yes. I’ve never been more sure, Dean.” And once again, that is good enough for me. When I finally get her jeans off, she pulls my very hard dick out of my jeans before sliding further down and lining up her opening.

“Wait, fuck, I don’t have a condom,” I tell her, wanting nothing more to be inside her bare, but I also want to protect her from getting pregnant right now. Definitely something I want in the future, but we need to graduate high school first.

“I’m on the pill. I use it for my cycle. Since you’ve never been with anyone, and I’ve never been with anyone, we will be fine,” she says, taking me an inch inside her.

All thoughts leave my brain as she slowly slides down my shaft. I groan at the tight grip she has on me, not only physically but also emotionally. This girl has me completely gone. She’s my world, my reason for breathing, and nothing could ever change that fact. She hesitates when she reaches her barrier, the proof of her innocence, before locking eyes with me. I give her a gentle smile and squeeze her hips in silent encouragement. She takes a deep breath before letting her hips fall, taking the entire length in one go.

“Fuck, fuck, baby shit, you should have gone slowly. Shit, I’m not gonna last,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

“I’m fine, it’s fine, we’re fine, Dean. Turn your bike on, please,” she pleads. When I open my eyes, I see her head thrown back. I do as she asks, not sure why she wants me to turn my bike on. That is until I feel the earth-shattering vibration that comes with my bike vibrating us together, and I know this is going to be over in no time.

“Shit, Rissa, that just sped up this session, baby. I am not going to last long,” I tell her, moaning when she wiggles, testing her hold on me. She must be satisfied with whatever answer she finds from her tests because she lifts up and down, shattering my whole fucking world.

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