R Finch - No longer virgin

She took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked in as casually as she could manage. She saw Sherry immediately and cringed inside.

Sherry glanced up from where she lounged naked on the couch, a glass half-full of wine in her hand. Her large eyes were slightly red arid swollen, and Wendy knew that it was from either drinking or crying, or possibly a combination of the two.

"Well," Sherry said, "so you've decided to come home at last." She attempted a small smile, only partially succeeded, managed a somewhat lopsided grin. "How did the movie go?"

"I'm moving in with Sander," Wendy said abruptly, knew she could never handle going through any preliminaries. "I'm really sorry. You were very good to me and I like you very much. I… I don't know what else I can say."

Sherry merely stared at her, then stood very slowly and very shakily. "I'm glad for you," she said quietly. "I'm gad for both of you, in fact. I hope you'll be very happy together."

Wendy thought for a moment it would be all right, thought with relief that Sherry wasn't going to display any hysterics. She found out how wrong she was when Sherry suddenly burst into tears, broke and ran, sobbing, to her room.

Wendy stood alone in the living room, considered only briefly just gathering her few belongings and leaving quietly. She couldn't do it, she realized, not without at least trying to assuage Sherry's feelings. She walked to the open doorway of the girl's bedroom, peeked in cautiously.

Sherry lay sprawled naked across her bed, face down, her pretty face buried in her pillow, shaking convulsively, her crying soft and muffled.

"Sherry?" Wendy started.

The girl's thin frame stiffened, and without looking up, she said, "Go away… just… go!"

Wendy swallowed hard. "I love him," she said, was trying to explain. "I can't help it, Sherry. I wouldn't hurt you for the world, but I really love him."

"Well, maybe I love him too!" Sherry sat up suddenly, wiped at her eyes. "Did you ever think of that? Did you? Did you, you little whore!"

"I'm… sorry," Wendy said simply, knew there was little else she could say that would make any difference.

"You should be sorry!" Sherry spat, started to cry again. "You fucking little bitch! You dirty fucking cunt! Don't you ever come back here! Ever! You bitch!"

"Good bye, Sherry," Wendy said quietly, felt a strange lump in her throat. "Good bye."

And she turned and walked quickly away.

"How did Sherry take it?" Sander wanted to know right away when Wendy finally got to his apartment. "Was she very upset?"

Wendy didn't answer, set the knapsack with all of her things crammed in it down on the floor, looked around at her new living quarters. Sander's apartment was huge, big enough to easily, contain two the size of Sherry's place. It was decorated entirely in white and black, was almost stark, the living arrangements consisting of strangely-shaped pillow furniture and odd plexiglass and wire lighting. Wendy could see into his bedroom – their bedroom, she corrected herself – saw that the king-sized bed was unmade, was a tangle of blankets and sheets thrown half on the floor. Everything impressed her. She smiled to herself.

"How did Sherry take it?" Sander asked again. "Did she get very mad?"

"She seemed to take it very well," Wendy said, smiling up at Sander. "She said she was glad for us. I guess she's pretty tough."

"She is," Sander nodded, seemed satisfied, tough still maybe a bit glum. "Good, I'm gad that's settled. Now," and he wrapped his arms around Wendy's slender waist, "where shall we start?"

Wendy smiled again, was feeling more at home by the minute. She said, a little shamelessly, "How about the bedroom? I can hardly wait for you to fuck me." She looked at him provocatively.

He brightened right up. "Very direct, you are, my dear, very direct. I like that in a woman. What an amazing combination of admirable traits you seem to possess. Amazing. Yes, I like that."

"You know…" Wendy started, pouting her full lower lip, "you've never kissed me. I mean, here we are, actually going to live together, and you still haven't kissed me. Not once."

He laughed easily, "Soon enough – and I do mean soon enough. A little anticipation on each side will only enhance our… enjoyment later in the evening. You'll see. For now, though, why don't you put your things away and get used to everything." He squeezed her gently.

"You sure talk funny sometimes," she laughed.

"A touch of formality," he laughed. "It's become something of a habit, I'm afraid."

Wendy suddenly stood on her tiptoes, kissed him lightly on the cheek, then with a giggle broke from his grasp, snatched up her knapsack, and ran to get unpacked.

Wendy stood in front of the bathroom. She couldn't see Sander anywhere and announced loudly to the apartment at large, "I've put my stuff away. I'm going to take a quick bath and then," she giggled, "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Sander appeared suddenly from a doorway just off the long hall, said with a smile, "Here, put these on. You might as well dress the part," explaining, "This is some of the junk we used in one of my first movies. Pick out what you like. I'm sure you'll find something intriguing of the lot."

Wendy peeked into the bag, shrugged with an almost secretive smile, said, "I'll certainly try." She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Forty-five minutes later, she flounced happily through the same door with a bouncy giggle, posed for Sander. He got up off of the couch and walked over to her with an appreciative smile, looking her up and down.

She wore a frilly white dress, cinched at her waist with a tiny red plastic belt, the ruffled hem of the skirt just barely covering her panties.

Sander was right at her heels, pounced on her almost immediately, brought her down laughing and squirming wildly, twisting, the two of them landing squarely on a massively large bean bag chair. They flattened it almost with their impact, the vinyl surface instantly taking the contour of Wendy's firm buttocks and back. She tried to wriggle free of Sander.

"Oh, please, mister," she panted, giggling, and Sander had his hands all over her writhing body, squeezing and tugging at her, half-pulling and half-ripping the front of her dress open, "Please," she cried, "you can have… your candy back… please!" And her exquisitely heavy breasts jounced into view, burst free from their confinement, quivering, the rubbery nipples already hard and distended.

Sander lunged at her, ravenously covered a swollen nipple with his mouth, sucking and chewing at the pliable flesh. He forced her dress open wider, tearing it back out of the way, popping her buttons off right down to her red belt.

Wendy twisted away from him with a sharp little gasp, kicking her slender legs, managed to get on her side, then on her stomach, was trying to pull herself across the huge bean bag, was crawling, her bare skin sticking to the vinyl, her breath coming hot and quick. Sander was right back on top of her, had somehow managed to get his pants down, had his throbbing erection tight against the backs of her bare brown thighs and was slowly working his way up between them. Wendy flailed with her outstretched arms and he held her down while she wiggled and squirmed, sill trying to break loose.

"Please!" she wailed, thrashing, "…it'll hurt! Oh, please, I'll do anything… just let me go!" They had slowly slid back down the bean bag, were sprawling over it, Wendy's knees just touching the carpet, her short skirt pushed up over the thrust-out tautness of her rubbery firm buttocks. Her white cotton panties were damp with perspiration, the crotch sopping with her lush female lubrication.

Sander let go of her with one hand, with his weight pressed against her to hold her down, he pulled with his fingers from underneath and behind at the narrow band of wet panty between her legs, was at the same time trying to force his twitching hard cock under it and up into her slippery cunt. Wendy squirmed her damp buttocks wildly, tried to slow his progress, but with a push against her, he slipped the smooth head of his erection into the slick lips of the opening he sought. He was constricted by her tight panties, managed still to work himself slowly but surely up into the wetly pink hole of her.