Dream big

I have always dreamt of my first time. How it would go, who I’d do it with, where we would do it, and so on. Most of the time after such fantasies, I can’t help but feel depressed; I’m 16 years old and most guys my age want older, more mature women, say in their twenties.

Twenty. It is the age I long for, the age were I can do what ever pleases me, without having a care in the world about what others might think. I always tell myself that I’ll be a lot more different than I am now. Later, I dream about becoming a seductive goddess, a woman all other women will envy. But for now, I’ll have to do with my petite stature, my introverted personality, and worst of all, my extreme fear of talking to boys. Somehow, every time one of the “males” approaches me, I feel so inferior, as if they can sense my vulnerability from miles away.

But there is this one guy that I can actually talk to. Robert. He also happens to be my best friend. He has always been there for me and guides me when it comes to boys. He’s also the first person who spoke to me about masturbation. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t be the little horny being I am now.

As I lay in my bed, I find myself fantasizing about Robert. I shiver at the thought of his light touch on my forearm when he wants to make a point. That small, innocent gesture transforms itself into an erotic act which makes me long for him even more. Then, I see his shape in front of me. I first notice his bear, muscular arms and his manly hands, then, his tanned torso. As I look up, I come face-to-face with his chest. I notice that his nipples are erect. That sight arouses me. As I run my fingers on his back, I dare look down. He’s naked and clearly, as excited as I am.

He then runs his hand down my body and reaches my navel. He looks at me for any sign of disagreement, but my moaning gives him the green light in preceding. As his finger reaches my swollen pussy, he looks into my eyes and kisses me passionately. With tongue and all. I’ve never had my first kiss, but I can imagine how romantic it must feel. His finger then enters in me. I moan softly in appreciation and slightly nibble his ear. After a few minutes of sexual stimulation, he takes his finger out of me, licks my juice and kisses me again. At this point in the fantasy, I can’t stop myself. I start panting aloud, imagining him enter his rod of pleasure in me, very softly and start rocking me back and forth. As I run my hands through his hair, he cups my C-sized breast in one hand, circling my nipple with his thumb and rests his other hand on my waist.

I wrap my legs around him for his cock to go in deeper. It isn’t only our close contact that makes me creep closer and closer to an orgasm–or at least, my assumption of how it feels– but also his thrusting and the way he leads on. It makes my head spin.

I find myself muttering “faster” under my breath. Sometimes, words just blurt out of my mouth. Once, I yelled out “I’M COMING!!!!”. Fortunately that night, I had the house to myself since my mom was on a business trip.

My fingers go in and out at the same speed Robert enters my flesh cavern with his throbbing dick. In my head, I can tell that he’s about to come–and so am I. Our breaths become quicker and more frequent. It’s almost as if we’re blending in together. I feel a small twitch of pain in my fingers, but that won’t stop me from exploding of pleasure. I go in fast and deep, copy-catting Roberts’ swift, yet rough thrusting. “Faster, faster…. Oooh yeah, that’s it. Oh yeah!” I try not to be too loud, but it’s almost unbearable. I’m at the peak of a some-what orgasm when I hear my mother’s bed squeak and her heavy footsteps dragging on the floor. I try to compose myself and quickly, I take my shaking fingers out of me and wipe them on my bed sheet.

“Are you okay honey?”, she asks peeking her head through my door.

“Yeah, mom. Why?”

“Well, I heard you mumbling quite often, so I was worried you were having a nightmare”

Oh no. That was no nightmare. Just the best imaginative sex I’ve ever had. No big deal.

“I’m fine, just go back to sleep. Alright?” I answer, a bit irritated that I just missed out on maybe having my first orgasm.

“Okay sweety, good night”

And with that, she closes the door. Laying on my back, staring at my dark ceiling decorated with kiddy fluorescent stars, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. I mean, I just fingered myself ferociously, imagining my best friend and I screwing each other. I feel so ashamed. How will I ever look at him in the eyes? Those eyes… Those clear, liquid caramel eyes.

Oh no, here I go again.