Chapter 3: My First

My first man —my first true man!— was also a student from my school, but he might as well not have been, as he rarely appeared there.

He was a tall, dark-haired pretty, white boy, thin but incredibly fit, who loved driving though the city and much beyond on his Harley motorcycle, which his grandpa left him as inheritance (oh, yeah).

No one knew what he wanted to be or what he even took the trouble of still coming back to school from time to time, but no one really cared.

Well, the girls didn't mind, while the boys really indeed wished that he stayed far, far away, as far as he possibly could, for the sake of their own egos and the precious little pussies of their dearest girlfriends.

For I don't need to say, oh, that the man was hot, do I? Tall and thin, but unbelievably trimmed, with a long and rebellious hair, but not nearly as rebellious as his whole attitude, that of a little punk who puts down any authority that's feeling too full of itself.

That boy had created a mystic aura of seduction around him by appearing every time on town with a girl on the rear of his Harley, and then leaving with a different woman there —if not both of them!

And the line to ride his Harley, oh, it was pretty big.

'He's got a whole rock star vibe, doesn't he?'

'He reminds me of Iggy Pop. Young Iggy, mind you!'

'Of course.'

'As for me, he's more like Johnny Depp. Sexy Johnny, not crazy Johnny.'

'Oh, there's a difference?', and they proceeded to giggle.

Yep, Johnny Deep, as young and handsome as he was on 'Benny & Joon', pure sex appeal of a wild teenage filled with vigor and rebelliousness, a masculine hurricane still in formation, with pinches of James Dean and John Mayer sprinkled all throughout.

He talked little and scored a lot —the type of player we love the most!—, and we both met almost by a accident on a convenience store of the town's only gas station: at the time, I was buying a cheap pocket mirror, some deodorants and a magazine, while he was there to buy... condoms.

I shit you not.

'Aren't you from the school?' he said. Feigning surprise, I smiled and threw my hair back, making sure he could see all the abundance of my curvaceous profile.

'Sure I am.'

'Neat. Are things still boring over there or did somebody finally got the guts to shake up the place a little?'

'Mmm, I... mmm…'

Disappointment and curiosity bit me all the same, for he was the very first person to not only not compliment me on my looks, but also apparently to not notice them at all!

I was hooked. I wanted to see how long he could keep pretending I wasn't the tastiest piece of ass he'd ever seen! We both chatted until he started to leave the place, which was when I began to truly feel ****.

I mean, how can he not drool over me? 'Is this boy blind or what?' Not noticing my own pitiful behavior, I followed him like a shadow, offering myself up with all the **** lack of grace of someone who had never properly flirted her whole life.

To my luck, he seemed not to mind it so much. He answered my foolish and clingy questions in a calm tone and with a sincere complexion, looking at me as an equal, as if I had been a long-time friend, and smoothly guiding the conversation to places so pleasant that I, when I least noticed, found myself by his side, helping him roll his big, beautiful motorcycle to the end of the street.

Out of nowhere, then, he stopped the conversation and mounted the Harley.

'I'm going to the farms to see the sunset.' During his pause, I noticed the obvious space on the rear of his motorcycle, all the while he looked straight to my eyes, all confident and stern, 'Wanna come?'

I stepped back slightly, surprised by the abruptness of the invitation.

'To the... mmm, the farms?'

'Yes.' And he made the engine of his motorcycle roar, which was as deep and potent as sound as his own voice. 'You know the hills up there on the east are quite something, the best place in town to see the twilight.' And he made his cycle roar once again, as if issuing me an ultimatum. 'You look like the type who likes nature.'

Yes. Nature.

'Do you even know me?' I realized we hadn't even exchanged any personal information up to the point.

'I sure do.' And he looked me in a way I felt him closer to me, whispering the words on my ear: 'You are Tara, the funny little girl from eighth grade.' He paused to think. 'Actually, you're on first year high school, right?'

I swallowed dryly.

'T-third.'

'Oh, shit. Didn't know it's been so long!'

'Yep. I'm...' Damn, my legs were shivering! 'I'm about to graduate, you see.' My eyes wavered as I tempted him with what I (naively) thought would be a tempting bit of information: 'I've... I've just turned eighteen, you know."

'Cool! Congratulations. Good to see you're growing fast and studying hard.'

'Y-you... you remember me, right?'

'Of course I do. Hard to forget.' And in that moment, for the first time, he finally looked at me from top to bottom, then to top again, checking me out completely and giving an approving smile in the corner of his mouth. 'I always knew you'd change a lot when you grew up. You turned out to be exactly how I imagined.'

I tried thinking on some devilish reply, some challenge that took him out of his confident, almost arrogant pose, but nothing came to mind. My legs, though thick, were already lax and white out of so much nervousness, as if only then I had realized the spell that man had put me under.

The sun rays fell on his face as if he was some kind of angel —or holy demon—, and the wind blew over his loose grey shirt, revealing to me his firm bust and the tasty little muscles on his fat-free abs.

When I came to my senses, it was I who eyed him from top to bottom, stopping myself right on his crotch, where I saw a surprising bulk that could not be, oh, it couldn't certainly be just the folds of his jeans.

'Hey, Tara.' He snapped his fingers to me, smiling unpretentiously, and took up the kickstand of his Harley. 'So, babe, I don't wanna miss the lights. You stay... or you come?'

I certainly came. Many other girls would maybe try and play more hard-to-get, but I wasn't one of them, for God knows when —or if— I was going to see him again!

We drove to the hills right near the borders of our district, an isolated rural zone comprised almost entirely of wheat and green leaf crops. The whole time I embraced his firm body and laid my cheeks and my lips down the base of his neck, which exhaled that scent of a wild male, a free and crazy man who knows he's got his woman pecking on the palm of his hand.

'Hold on tight, honey girl.' He spoke without ever losing his stern frame. 'Road's gonna get pretty intense from now on.'

«Gosh, I hope it does.»

We climbed up the hills. True to his word, my man didn't make any aggressive move until after we've seen the sunset, preferring instead to slowly embrace me and touch my arms, my waist, to fondle my back behind my thick stripped cowgirl shirt, and talk near my ear and my neck, almost whispering, giving me goose bumps through all my body right down to my groin —which held my swollen, almost drooling pussy after just a few minutes hearing his deep, thunderous voice.

In the end, when all was dark, but the full moon still revealed the strong features of his face and shone on the deep darkness of his big, piercing eyes, I could no longer handle myself: **** on my own breath, I asked him, almost begging:

'Are you going to kiss me?'

And he, just to **** me:

'No.'

'...?!'

'You come here and kiss me. I do not like women who don't know what they want, and I know you are a strong-willed woman, Tara.' And then —only then— he approached my lips. 'Come on. Show me how fearless you are.'

I barely let him finish his sentence, to be honest: I threw myself on his lips like a pussycat in heat, devouring his tongue as voraciously as I rubbed my legs against his waist, almost coming in the process!

'Ooh... ooh, woooah!'

Such intense pleasure made me stop and catch my breath, but by that time I was already doomed: as soon as I tried to move away, he locked the back of my neck with his right hand and kept my face very close, so ardently close to his!, now smiling in a very arrogant and domineering way:

'Wasn't so difficult, was it? Don't worry, no, my sweet, little cowgirl,' and he tightened his arm around my waist. 'Let me drive now.'

'Oooohh...!'

In that very same instant, that scorching hot piece of sin, that demon sent straight out of paradise lowered his hand down to my cunt and, without releasing my back or even loosening his grip, started fingering me until I came.

Twice. I came twice just with the skillful hands and expert fingers of my bad boy biker! Twice, goddammit!, before he even undid the zippers of his lady-killing rock star jeans!

Twice, oh God, twice just with his fingers deep down my cunt —which was so swollen it surely must have looked like a big, fat ripe peach by then!

I seriously felt something explode in me down there and soak not just my panties, but also my jean shorts, while sending my mind out of my body up to the stars, at which I was staring, and making me arc my body violently backwards and let out a wild howl towards the moon:

'Rooooarrr!!'

When I finally gathered my senses to see what happened, I found my jeans soaking wet, my panties in complete ruin and my naughty man staring at me with a smile as confident as it was fascinated:

'You're a squirter.' His smile grew. 'How cool.'

He then advanced towards me while taking off his shirt and revealing his marvelously trim, bad boyish torso, so irresistibly sensuous I didn't know, quite frankly, whether I wanted to —or could!— proceed or not.

'No! Oh, no, please…'

«Let's take a time,» I wanted to have said, but his hands spelled out all his words to me: «no, my sweet girl. You'll have no rest tonight.»

I moaned while he kissed and sucked my breasts, unbuttoning my shirt with one hand, and grabbed me again by the neck, staring at me with those starless eyes, and whispered deeply, absolutely to my soul:

'Think you're gonna come just twice tonight? How sweet!'

And right there, under the starry sky, he took me.

I'm not going to get in details about that night, for this is not the focus of my story, oh, heavens!

Quite frankly, if I went on to talk about the way he took me... the way he handled me...!

I was big, yes, an Amazon of a woman who scared both weak and strong men alike, yet still... that goddamn...! That bad boy rock star biker with the face of a Hollywood sex symbol... that unabashed road to female perdition, little slice of hell in the paradise of my heart, that demonic archangel and living fragment of damnation and temptation in human form, oow!!... that virile lothario, yes, he made me feel so small, so helpless, as if all my size and all my transformation had amounted to nothing, and as if his strength and power left me **** but to take off my bra, spread wide open my big legs and let him penetrate me with all the skill, all the thirst and wildness of his young, healthy body for hours and hours and...!!

I was orgasm-drunk when I recovered my senses and saw him slowly waking up by my side, running his hands romantically over my killer, half nude body.

'Morning, cowgirl. You can keep resting, if you want. No one is going to disturb us, I promise.'

Something told me the farmers knew all too well about what that rowdy stallion routinely did over their hills, but out of sheer respect (or fear) didn't dare to interrupt him or even get close when he was around!

'Do you help me?'

'Of course.'

He took my hand and helped me get up. I don't quite know how I balanced myself over the rear seat of his bike in that state, after all my energy had left my body, but I know I managed to get home in one piece right when the sun started to shine.

How much time did we spend over those hills, really??

'See y'around,' and he stole piece of my soul with a very deep, possessive kiss on my trembling lips. 'You were great.'

'Oh, yoou... y'all not bad too…'

I could barely speak properly! Silly girl!

With a final roar from his Harley, my biker boy rode into the horizon... never to return, apparently.

That's right: even on graduation day the girls still asked where that boy went to or what did he go on to do in life, and I myself, a bit curious, sometimes looked for him on the TV or online, always in the hopes to find him doing something really fantastic and wooing the hearts of audiences and women in faraway, exotic lands.

You know: these things rock stars like him usually do.

But nothing: I never found a single piece of information about my dearest, my sweetest handsome biker boy, so much so that I often ask myself if that man had been only a fantasy —a fantasy, oh, I wish to have repeated so many more times!