So, you wanna do this? My phone lit up, the five words in her message giving life to every recent masturbatory fantasy of mine — fantasies that began when I started dating Sasha six months ago.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the flashing lights of the television. Aside from her brilliant red hair, it was the only thing that lit up in the darkness of the rec room in the basement of my house. My parents weren’t home. Instead, they were off getting plastered with their redneck friends, the same crap they had done since I was old enough to walk. They came home, more often than not, reeking of pot and Pabst and all forms of nastiness. And while I was resentful of how they treated me, I was thrilled to be alone. Well, alone with Sasha, even if we were sitting next to each other, texting back and forth instead of speaking.
Looking at the pinball machine, my dad’s prized possession, I grinned. My hands, sweaty from anxiety and excitement, worked feverishly in the dark, gliding over the buttons of my phone. Absolutely. Right there on that stupid pinball machine.
Sasha’s green eyes flashed in the dark as she stared at her phone, concentrating on the words. Her childhood had been just as bad as mine, more so if you consider that her parents were just fosters — a long line of nameless, faceless stiffs that cared more about the check that came with caring for her than the needs of a passionate seventeen-year-old girl. A lot of people were turned off by the slight crook of one of her front teeth, or by the way she came to school dressed as a wannabe punk rock goddess, but none of that mattered to me. My t-shirts from the 90’s grunge movement meshed perfectly with the t-shirts of 80’s glam metal that she wore, and we went from friends to in a relationship within a matter of months. And, as critical as I was of my dad, it was nice to have someone around to play games with…along with smoking pot and smuggling shots of my dad’s cheap whiskey.
If those were small acts of defiance, however, what was about to happen on the pinball machine would be my crowning achievement. It was an ugly old thing, decorated with the face of some long-dead race car driver – I forget which one. Dad was constantly worrying with it, cleaning it with glass cleaner and furniture polish and all kinds of nonsense that did little to make it any less ugly. In fact, if anything, the crap made it worse… My thoughts trailed off as Sasha straddled me, her lips meeting mine in a hot, wet kiss. My tongue found hers and we each moaned.
Running my hands along her thighs, I hiked her skirt up high enough to reach the line of her panties. Slowly, I began to work them down her hips. She kissed me harder as she pushed herself against me. Somewhere, an old floorboard creaked, and we both froze. A minute passed, then another, as we stared at each other, waiting my dad or one of his drunken buddies to burst in and ruin the fun. The thought was stupid; my parents were otherwise occupied and nobody was looking for Sasha. Still, there was something dirty and shameful, in the world’s view, about what we were doing. They were trying to take one of the few things we could derive pleasure from and make it something horrible that would set a couple of kids down the path of failure.
As if she was reading my mind, Sasha reached into the small pocket of her skirt and pulled out a condom. “We’ve talked about this before, but this is a requirement. We’re in the process of getting into State and blowing this Popsicle stand, and teen pregnancy is one of the best ways to screw that up.”
Her words were a relief…and a turn on. She had the same undeniable faith in me that I had in her, and for someone to buy into you like that…it was pretty fucking hot. I cupped her ass in my hands as I stood, lifting both of us off the floor in one swift motion. I couldn’t help but stare at the look on her face as I carried her, slowly, towards the machine. It would have been faster, but she was concerned with getting her shirt off, and I was concerned with keeping my lips attached to hers as long as possible. There were two reasons for this. The first was that, like most seventeen-year-olds, I enjoyed kissing, and was pretty good at it. The second was that, despite all of my boasts to Sasha, I had never done this before. Thank God for the Internet. I knew how to perform the first step in fairly decent detail, but the rest would be complete guesswork.
Making it to the machine, I sat her down gently, taking a moment to remove her panties the rest of the way. She giggled as I tossed them aside, then raised her hips slightly as I removed her skirt as well. She sat up, kissing me for another moment as I worked my jeans off. Kicking them to the side, I took the condom out of her hands and laid it next to her on the machine. She opened her mouth to protest, but I quickly cut her off.
“I’m not going to need that for what I’m about to do.”
I pushed my lips back to hers before she could protest further. Following the directions I’d found online, I kissed her lips, her neck, along her collarbone (this gave her a little shiver, which made me pause for a moment, to do it again) and down to her breasts, her nipples taut with excitement. At this point, my teeth and tongue became involved, in a clumsy dance that I hoped was erotic. I figured I was doing pretty well. I heard a sigh, followed by Sasha’s hand pushing downwards on top of my head, as if encouraging me to move on. Eager to please, I ignored my own desire and moved lower, kissing across her stomach, past her navel, and down to a bright red patch of hair.
Sasha giggled, running her fingers through my hair, gently urging me on. I wasn’t content to dive right into the act, however. I was still in alien territory, both literally and figuratively. Sasha, it seemed, had no reservations about what I was doing, because she wrapped her legs around my shoulders and, using my hair, pulled my lips away from her inner thighs and straight into the heart of the matter. Well, maybe heart isn’t the best word, but didn’t that one song one refer to it as a heart-shaped box?
My tongue quickly went to work, licking in slow, wet circles as I ran my hand up the inside of her leg. Initially, I wasn’t sure I was doing it right, but then I felt her hand tense, ever so slightly, in my hair. She ran her fingers along my scalp and I quickened my pace. My index finger made its way into the picture. This, I’d done before. She let out what could only be considered a groan of delight as I pushed it into her, working it in clumsy concert with my lips and tongue.
Sasha’s hands slid down the sides of the machine, finding their way to the paddle knobs on each side, which she pressed repeatedly, setting off the music on the machine. She pressed herself into me, sliding down the machine. I worked faster, not exactly what the tutorial recommended, but given how Sasha’s legs tensed around me, I figured it was a wise move.
The TILT siren went off on the machine as Sasha rocked into me, moaning and cursing and filling the air with enough noise to make one question why a line between sex and violence existed. My face was soaked with the flavor of Sasha’s body. Her fingers were tangled in knots in my hair, but I was too busy enjoying what was happening to notice. Finally, she let out a shudder and stilled herself, an occasional tremor coming from her thighs as she laid back, covered in sweat and sex and saliva.
I stood up and stared at her, in her fiery, glorious nudity, and laughed. “Good?”
She panted for a couple of moments before responding. “Perfect. Your turn.”
In a second, she had me on the floor. In all fairness, I was more than willing to go, but the ferocity with which she attacked the matter left me enthralled. In one motion, she straddled my legs, just below my cock, and opened the condom with her left hand and her teeth. Her right hand was working on me, pumping in hard, furious strokes. Her fingers slowed for a second as she rolled the contraceptive over my shaft, taking great care to ensure that it went down to the base. With a smile, and a shudder, she lowered herself onto me, and, despite the barrier between us, I could feel her moisture against me.
It was over in less than two minutes — two minutes of furious pumping and slapping of skin against skin. As great as my boasts had been, I went out with a shudder, the latex between us the only thing keeping me from spilling into her with a rush akin to Amazonian rapids. With a sigh, and a couple of pats on my chest, Sasha leaned forward, resting her head under my chin, her red hair cascading over us both as I reached up to gently worry at it.
“Good?” She said.
All I could do is stare at the ceiling and grin. “Incredible. I’m just glad you went first.”