“I already know what I like,” I say, wiggling my fingers.
So I gave myself an orgasm with my fingers as he watched, and he tried to do the same. It felt so good to have someone else touch me, and he did get me to come. With his fingers, not with his cock. The condom had been really slick, and a few times when he would pull back to thrust inside me, he would slip out, and we would laugh.
It had been so much fun. I have zero regrets being Austin’s first and his being mine.
But we didn't do it again, and we never became friends with benefits. We had just been friends.
I’ve had sex with guys my father’s asked me to as a favor. Really sick and twisted shit, I know, but whenever I’ve had sex because I wanted to, it’s been with someone who means something to me. I'm not sure I could fuck for the sake of fucking, not without my father forcing me to.
No, I need a connection, a bond at least. Well, if I want a chance at orgasming, that is. And that would be the point of my having sex. I don’t want to just feel good. I want tofeel good.
Which means it might not be until I’m a freshman in college that I have sex again.
Why would I bother to waste my body or my time with any of the dipshits at this place?