Continuation on Ben and Tory's relationship, a couple years down the road. Enjoy. (This is gonna be technically M, but if you're not ok with that, just skip it).
I have been plotting this occasion for at least three months. I made an appointment, got pills, got condoms. I read an encyclopedia sized share of Reddit forums and even watched some porn. No one in the history of the world was more prepared for their first sexual experience than I was. But, it seems, no other teenager had the same bad luck. I needed one night where Kit and Whitney were away, or a solid alibi to stay in Ben's dorm room unnoticed. The later would require a reason to have my car but not come home. Of course, I also needed Ben's availability–hard in his second semester of College. So I knew it might take a bit for all the stars to align. I prepared the best I could and then waited for opportunity.
Kit had a conference, last minute. Call the boy, set up a date, review my notes. Whitney decided not to go because of the weather. We watched a documentary for his humanities class on the couch while eating Whitney's salt-water-taffy. Not a horrible consolation.
Second attempt: I arranged for Ella to cover on a Friday night knowing the Magnolia League could use my truck in the morning. The timing would be tight, but doable. And then my alternator stranded me at the gas station next to Ella's neighborhood and thankfully not in the middle of the two hour drive to Conway.
Kit and Whitney were off to a bed and breakfast for a weekend getaway. Ben, none the wiser, canceled so he could see a band with his roommates.
Everything lined up, finally. And I started my period. At least on that occasion, Ben still didn't know and there weren't any dashed expectations.
Finally, another shot arrived. Kit at a conference, Whitney with him, stranded by a storm flights canceled, trip extended. Ben reluctantly considered my offer to stay over. His dad being a few doors down didn't exactly make him easy to sneak in and out. Everyone knew his explorer, loose lips could sink the ship, so to speak. One mention by anyone in the complex - all of whom worked for my dad - and I'd be sitting at the kitchen table discussing broken rules.
"Just come over. We can play some games with me and the guys," I begged him on the phone.
"Yeah, okay. That sounds fun. Things are dead up here anyways. I'll let my dad know."
"No! Surprise him." I almost shout into the phone. He doesn't even need to see my face to know I have motives beyond game night.
"Tory, it's against the rules."
"The rules are dumb."
"But, they're the rules. And when we break the rules, I don't get to see you. And I really, really like seeing you."
"Remember when we stole historic artifacts from a museum?"
He sighed, heavy and near resignation. All he needed was a little logic to push him over the edge.
"Kit and Whitney are stuck in San Francisco. They're re-booked on a flight at nine AM, which is noon here. They won't be home before six."
A long pause audible breathing followed, then short and sweet, "Fine. But if we get caught…"
"I'll do your O-Chem homework. See you in a bit?"
"I'll come in by sea." He purred on the line.
One downside to being Ben was that he was stuck dating a girl two years younger. I didn't believe Kit when we first talked about it, but he was right. At fifteen, I wasn't ready for the physical side of a relationship. And at seventeen, Ben was. I guess, to be fair, Ben never called it a downside or complained or pressured. Occasionally, he'd get caught up in the moment and find a boundary I didn't know I had. But never once did saying stop or no become an issue. I guess it helps that I knew from the start that he loved me, he'd told me but I'd also felt it when we shared our pack connection. On the physical side, I called the shots and Ben seemed happy for the shared experiences. I'm finishing up my senior year now, and he's at college, a freshman. It may have taken almost two years for us to get to third base, but when we got there it really bashed all the barriers. I had a one track mind ever since.
"So, is it Ticket to Ride or Pandemic?" Ben shook each box in time with its name.
"Ticket to Ride, every span of track you take of clothing."
Ben blushed and nodded. "Better wear layers or Hi's getting a free show." He set up the board. I gathered my nerve and had settled on playing at least one round. Don't judge, board games can be sexy… To us.
"Oh, they're not coming," I admitted, as casual as possible.
Ben straightened and looked at me, glanced at the door, listened to the empty house, looked at his bag of overnight things by the stairs, and then squared up to me. "What's on your mind, Tory?"
"Well, if I've convinced you to stay… then I wanted you to myself for once." I pulled his hand and pushed it to my back, his other matched it and he held me. I drew long kisses out of his lips and slid my hands down to the hem of his shirt and up against his stomach. Solid muscles and a little bit of hair on his lower stomach. More kissing, more of my hands exploring, his hands still as statues on my lower back his shoulders stiff. "Relax."
Maybe a change in venue would help. I stepped away from the kitchen and to the stairs. I grabbed his bag and pushed it into his arms, walking ahead of him up to the third floor. He looked around my room for the first time in years. One of Kit's rules had eliminated boys from my bedroom. Ben took it in. I hoped he didn't linger on the stack of wolf stuffed animals on the chair. Maybe that was too childish, but I didn't really think he'd be so hesitant.
Returning to the threshold, I pulled him in and shut the door between us and Coop, no dogs allowed, not for this. He set his bag on my desk chair and looked stricken. His eyes examined me, looked for cracks and clues. I sat on the bed and pulled him towards me. He followed, still mechanical. I kicked off my shoes and told him to do the same. He complied. Then I tried to peel up his shirt.
"Time out, Tory. Seriously, where are we going with this?"
I couldn't say it brashly like I knew he would, he never wasted much on tact. So I decided to go the obvious route. I reached over to my desk and pulled out a condom and held it in my hands between us. We locked eyes. His face asked me what I wanted. I nodded. He nodded back. We didn't always need words, we knew each other so well. I tossed the pouch on the center of the bed and lifted my shirt up over my head. Bikinis show more than my bra, but he still looked at me like he'd never seen me so naked. Like a gentleman, his eyes shot up to my face and his cheeks reddened and bled down into his chest. I touched his shirt again, pulling it up, he flicked it over his head. I swept hair back from his face and behind his ear, pulling his face to mine. His heart was hammering in his chest, his skin was five degrees hotter than usual. And, his hesitation was gone.
Ben touched me with his full hands and his fingertips. His lips hunted for my ear and the ticklish points on my neck. His body pressed mine like he was proving I would say stop. I met him at every turn. Naked and panting, he dry humped my thigh and I reached between us and touched him until he whimpered. He came to a rest, beaten at his own game. We still hadn't said a single thing. I pulled the condom out from under my shoulder where it had been crinkling for a half hour. I passed it to him.
Ben, sitting up between my legs was a sight. Cute. Muscled. Pretty eyes that looked so soft and somewhat worried.
"It's okay. I want to," I assured him, rubbing my calf up his leg to his side.
"There's no going back."
"Then let's go forward. Chop, chop," I motioned for him to hurry, smiling. He laughed. He relaxed. He applied the condom and started to lower himself back. "No, not yet. Can you touch me and then when I say I'm ready, then. Okay? Foreplay is key."
"Research?" He asked, hand sliding down my leg to my vulva.
He repeated his earlier touches carefully and without breaking eye contact. I didn't have quite the same resolve. What was my face supposed to look like? TV orgasms had wide open mouths and some tongue flicking around lips or pinched eyes or gaping-O-moans, and screaming. Under his scrutiny, I just hoped it wasn't an ugly face like Claire Danes crying or anything. He looked less than confident in what he was doing so I tried the lip biting and licking thing to give him some indication that I appreciate the effort. And man, I was appreciating it. Once before, several weeks back, in the back seat of his Explorer, he'd been touching me much like he was – but in a much more cumbersome position. This feeling came over me all a sudden. I needed more. I needed something bigger and stronger and different than just one finger and a fast circling thumb. I was waiting for that feeling, that surely was when it was supposed to happen, when my body asked for it. As soon as that thought came through my mind I could feel the tingling start under his fingertips and swimming deeper into my flesh.
"Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"Now, I want you now." I pulled on his arm, he followed it, fast and blinking like he didn't realize we'd get here that this would actually happen and then it was.
Slowly and with a soft, surprised moan, Ben was pushing past the throbbing need and fulfilling it. My hand replaced his thumb, circling my clitoris like a Cosmo sex tip and what followed was an intense and encompassing orgasm. No time to contemplate my O-face. What ever it was would be scalded into Ben's brain, because he was looking at me like a girl possessed. I held his hips still and I worked mine up against him to the pulse of what my body wanted and I took it from him. No machismo needed in my first experience, I was more than happy to have it covered. The tingling radiated out and pulsed in smaller and smaller bursts and I came to a still, panting, mess under him.
"For real?" he laughed, and despite all my effort and preparation, he sure seemed proud of himself.
I nodded and released my grip on his hip. He took this as a sign that he could continue and that's when I discovered exactly how shallow our coupling had been. More or less, there was an uncomfortable point in my canal, obviously the tenuous tissues of my hymen in the way of Ben's perfectly ready erection. From the forums, I figured out that he could probably feel it as much as I could. But there wasn't so much as a pause on his part before the subtle burn of him fully encased inside me. He pulled back and the ache seared like a new burn.
"Slow!" I grabbed his shoulders. This was his part and even if it stung and chased the orgasm from my immediate mind, I couldn't deny him his own release.
A slow kiss and still hips. Then a stroke that moved millimeters and arms gathering me into him, holding me around my shoulders and cupping the back of my neck. One slow stroke, another, a groan that made my chest ripple in affection. Kisses and a tight hug of protective Ben, always here for me and entranced in the act of making love to me. And it felt good. Not building to an orgasm good, but a solid hug and comfort good. Like a lucid dream in the morning where you can fly and eat all the dessert you want, that sort of good. It felt like the nervous system equivalent of the love I'd always shared with him. In short, it was safety, warmth, and perfect.
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