It's two AM, and this boy, this gorgeous, smooth-talking boy has somehow gotten you sneaking into his basement. It wasn't like you to just go home with some guy you met at a frat party, but there was just something about this cocky boy. He seemed to have an exotic, continental appeal underneath those bad boy looks of his, something you just couldn't place. The way he zipped you away by the hand from the police raid on a party full of other seventeen-year-olds was also sort of romantic, you thought. That devil-may-care attitude was just so brilliant.

Then again, maybe it was just the beer goggles.

You wouldn't really know til you woke up with your hangover the next morning, you figure. Right now, you want to live in this moment. You're being pushed down onto the sofa by this beautiful boy, and you just want to roll on the waves of this emotional high.

He smells like Old Spice and PBR, with a hint of salt and cream if you really try to place it. He presses his lips fiercely against yours; the taste of cheap beer again, and maybe some sort of smoke? The thought enters your mind of how nice it'd be to have him breath that smoke into your mouth. But you suppose this isn't the time, as his tongue is pushing past your lips, prying your teeth, aggressively invading your mouth. You welcome it, letting him push you harder into the tacky upholstery. The fabric is upsettingly rough, but you think it's worth it.

He's heavy, pressing his entire torso into yours. His knee grinds into your crotch, and you arch up against him. He snorts slightly, the closest to a laugh he can get through your clamped lips. Oh, he's that sort, is he? You suppose you should have figured that; he seemed overly full of himself.

You gasp as you feel his hand slide up under your shirt, the clasp of your bra snapping open before you even realized his hand was fiddling with it. His lips part from yours and he raises his brows, asking if it is okay to go on. You barely have to nod before his hand is on your left breast, his thumb just grazing your nipple as he swirls his fingertip in circles. You moan and he smiles, his mouth going to your neck. He nips at your throat roughly, and you fear the little yelp you let out might alert his mother to what's going on in her basement. He must have the same idea, as his free hand claps over your mouth. You look at him apologetically, and he takes his hand from your breast to mime a "shoosh."

You, of course, retaliate by kicking him for stopping.

He laughs quietly, taking his hand off your mouth and pulling your shirt off over your head. He throws it onto the ping pong table and looks back down at you under him, biting his lip.

"You look really freaking good, you know?" he asks. You almost reply, but your words turn into a choked squeak as he quickly pushes up your bra and returns his tongue to where his thumb left off. Dear god, you didn't know a tongue could move so fast. You can swear it is vibrating, not that you can think of how he'd manage to make it do that. You shouldn't complain, though, especially with how good it feels. You realize that one of his hands is petting your hair softly, while the other creeps down the side of your stomach. If it weren't for how much you wanted that hand to travel, you would whimper in desperation as he arches his back and takes his weight off you.

He bumps your crotch with his knee, just to remind you of it's presence, you suppose. It isn't as good as the grinding before, but you can understand why it's stopped as you feel him flick open the fly of your jeans. It's all going so fast, but you are more than happy for it to.

This is so unlike you, so unlike you…

And yet, you let out a mewl as you feel his fingers dip inside your jeans and over your panties, running down all the way between your legs. He lets out a little surprised noise, and his mouth is no longer flickering.

"Hey, why did you-"

"Jesus, you're wet," he said simply, a grin spreading on his face. "Aw, you really do want me, don't you?"

You nod your head, a bit embarrassed at the fact he pointed it out. You gasp a little as you feel his finger starting to stroke over your clit, flickering up and down. He grins as you start to pant.

"Ah, I knew that would get you going," he said smugly. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to the side of your ear. His voice is breathy, gritty, as he says:

"I am going to do you faster and better than any man ever has."

You shudder. His fingers stroke up and own your inner lips, occasionally darting back over your clit. Your hands go up to his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. He groans slightly, his hips involuntarily bucking towards you and his fingers starting to work faster.

And faster.

Your eyes roll back in your head. Fingers can't do that. They simply can't, you're certain of it. This boy must be some sort of angel, you swear. How on earth he can make them work so fast, so deftly, and oh /lord/ he is amazing. You're not sure what exactly he's doing; it feels as if somehow he's hooked a fingertip slightly under your clitoral hood, pushing it up and vibrating his fingertip right over the bundle of nerves. You can feel your panties getting wetter as he moves.

His crotch is pressed against one of your legs, and you can feel how utterly hard he is. You find yourself wanting him, wanting his cock to just push inside you, to fuck you til you moan. You try to croak out this request, your voice struggling through your breaths.

He makes a strange, throaty noise and sucks at your throat, then pulls back to look you in the eyes. They seem glazed over; you can tell he honestly wants it just as much as you. You can already feel yourself getting close.

"O-of course I'll do it," he manages to get out, and your heart leaps as he removes his hand to pull off his trousers. Button, zipper, the jeans are off within...one, two seconds? My god, how did he even manage to get them off so fast.

His cock is just straining against his briefs, and you find yourself licking your lips involuntarily. However, he doesn't immediately move to pull them off. You make a sad squeak, until you realize he's bending over to put his face to your vulva.

His tongue drags the entire length between your legs up to the top of your panties, and you shudder. He looks you in the eyes, and you think you see a flicker of...something. Nerves? No. It couldn't be.

"I think I want to have you ride this out a liiiittle longer," he drawls, almost as if he were drunk off of sex, and he pulls down your pants. He presses his lips to yours, kissing lightly before dipping his tongue in and flickering it rapidly. You let out a slightly-too-loud moan, but you quickly silence yourself, simply whimpering with tightly closed lips. Your nails scrape down his arms and he lets out a low groan, changing the quick up and down of his tongue to what you can only guess is a figure eight.

You can't be too sure, of course-it's still far too fast to tell it's anything other than purely amazing.

His left hand grasps your ass, pulling you up firmer against his mouth, as two of the fingers from his right push into your cunt. You can't help but yelp the word "yes," followed by little quiet pants of "more" as he curls and uncurls his fingers quickly inside you. Your hips rock hard against his hand and mouth, unconcerned for how he feels, but you can guess he enjoys it from the high moan that escapes his throat.

Another finger pushes in, and his hand starts thrusting along with the continued finger curls. You can't really form words with your mouth-it all feels far too good for you to think about actual speech-but you keep thinking the words "fuck me" in your mind. You want him, need him, you'd do anything to have him in you.

Your arm is weak-your whole body, really-but you manage to trail it from his shoulder down his chest, his abs, down to the huge swollen bulge in his underwear. You whine to him, and he coughs in shock as your fingers wrap around his cock through the tight blue cotton.

He pulls up, gasping for breath, and stares at you with eyes full of lust and longing.

"You sure?"

"Fuck me right now," you whisper, and he grins broadly. He practically looks like a kid in a candy store, and you find yourself wondering quite how old he is as he slaps your inner thighs and pulls down that horribly unwanted fabric.

You take a second to admire the cock in front of you, so erect it almost touched the trail of wispy silver-blue hairs trailing up his stomach. It's not the longest you've seen, but it looks thick and delicious, and you want it inside you more than anything else you've ever seen.

He spreads apart your lips, his hips swaying side to side and his brows wiggling up and down. He bites his lip, nods his head, and asks, "You ready?"

You nod fiercely. "More than anything."

Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, filling you, making you wish that you had asked him to do this even sooner. After all, if his hands and tongue could move so wonderfully, then his cock must-

Squeaksqueaksqueak

"Nnnf!"

Before you even have the chance to blink, he shudders and you feel a warm splatter inside you, and he's out again. You look at him in horror and disgust as you see his cock start to go flaccid.

"That was fun, babe," he said, pulling his pants back on and getting up to waltz across the room. He picks your shirt off the table and throws it back at you. "So, um, anyway, there's some cab fare by the side door. Try not to be too loud as you leave, ok? Don't want to wake mom. School night, all that."

He winks and shoots you a finger gun before turning and running up the stairs faster than your eyes can process.

Great.