For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (67 page)

“LL Cool J.?”

“That’s the one. Sweet milk chocolate on a S’mores graham cracker, your dude is flippin’
hawt
! I bet he tastes dick-a-licious, too.” Taddy had a way with words—dirty ones, especially.

She’d chatted online with Dejon for months, sharing pictures of each other ’til Taddy had sent Kiki to the Cannes Film Festival to meet him. Lust at first sight, two years later and there they were.

“I love you, too.” She gasped, feeling the inconceivably large head of his dick inching close. Moving her hips to the left, she reminded, “We’ve waited this long.”

“Babe, I’m begging.” His cock followed her. Dejon’s big arms, twice the width of her legs, framed them.

“What’s another month, ’til our ceremony in Provo?” Holding on to his shoulders, Kiki lifted from the mattress slightly then swung her hips in the other direction.

“Utah.” Dejon full lips frowned. “That’s where you want our first time—”

“Yes, of course.” Kiki had waited so long to get married. At twenty-three, a woman her age, back home, would’ve had seven babies along with five to six other sister wives by this point. The first in her family to go to college and move to the East Coast, Kiki didn’t miss Utah, or what outsiders referred to as her polygamous, fundamentalist Mormon culture. New York was where she belonged but there was a part of her that would always consider Provo home.

“Fine.” Sitting up, Dejon teased her. Playfully, he bit down on her underwear, wiped his lips on the fabric then handed them to her, almost as if he knew better than to have even tried.

“Thank you.” Kiki smiled, admiring Dejon’s good temper. Never upset, he let her stay true to who she was.

“Remind me to buy you some new knickers for our wedding night.”

She giggled. His British accent made her laugh sometimes. “Lingerie?”

“Yes, something fetch and sexy, in pink.” He looked down at her lady parts and sighed.

“How nice!” She’d never worn sexy anything before. Noticing his hard-on, she swallowed twice then asked, “Do you want me to, ummm….”

“Please.” His eyes narrowed into slits, giving Kiki that sexy face, the one that fueled her imagination with thoughts of Dejon’s cock buried deep inside her. How would he feel? Would his long eyelashes flutter that way when he came inside her, too? Or would Dejon stare intently down at her, without blinking at all? She looked forward to finding out.

“Hmmm.” Her entire life, she’d always been a people-pleaser. Oral sex couldn’t be an exception.

At Brigham Young University, Kiki had studied many theories on how a woman should abstain from contact with a man before marriage to remain a virgin. Some Europeans believed that if two people climaxed in the same room together without even touching one another, they had sex. In Asia, many argued that any body contact between two lovers, regardless if it reached orgasm, was considered sex.

“Only a…BJ,” Kiki agreed.

She chose to follow the North American belief system. Or at least what she’d been taught when her mother had homeschooled her before college. “Penetration of the vagina by a penis leading to orgasm is sex and should only happen after marriage.”

“Yes. But tell me again why you
must
be a virgin on our wedding day?” Dejon asked, caressing her arm. “I’m not marrying you just to get into your pants. That’s a bonus.”

“My sisters and I vowed we’d wait is all. It’s our virtue pact.”

On her thirteenth birthday, she’d made a promise to her four older sisters—Sariah, Zina, Eliza and Marie Osmond (notably named after her mother’s favorite singer)—that they’d give their virginity to their husbands. With this in mind, she could manage a blow job and still keep her sisterly promise.

“Ready?” He shimmied over.

“Only this once, Dejon, and I’m serious. Don’t go expecting BJs every day. Not ’til after we’re married.” Then she hoped sex would be a free-for-all.

Taddy had warned her a few months back while coming up with color names for their Baden Cosmetics client that the second Kiki started giving Dejon head, she’d never quit. “Oral sex is similar to wearing makeup. When you see how good you look with it, you’ll never go without, especially mascara. Same can be said for oral sex and how it feels, darling. Now, do you think we should name this lip-gloss…
swallow
?”

She yanked playfully on his balls. They reminded her of two wet sandbags hanging off the bow of a boat. No doubt Dejon’s artillery would bruise her face in a heat of passion if they really got themselves a swinging.

“Agreed.” Leaning his body into hers, Dejon grinned wide. That kind of smile Kiki had only seen once on TV. A man from Minersville Utah had won two hundred million dollars by playing PowerBall.

“Don’t get your hopes up on how good I’m gonna be, either.”

If she included that day, Kiki could count on one finger how many times she’d given her fiancé head. She knew one sucked when giving fellatio, but Kiki hoped she wouldn’t
suck
at it. Licking her lips, vividly recalling the adult films her boss had lent her to learn from, starring Caramel Swallows and Manuel Coq de la Grande, she was ready.

“Touch me.”

Like a kitten, she took tiny licks. Starting at the mushroom tip of Dejon’s cock, she then looked up to see Dejon’s face, seemingly more amused than aroused.
Darn it.

“Go for my nuts.” Caressing between her legs, he commented again on her wetness just as she managed to get half of his sac between her lips. “Yes, that’s it. Such a hot mouth. It’s your second pussy. A tight little puss-puss.” Dejon’s body trembled when her tongue pressed down. “How’s that taste, babe?”

“Silky,” she managed to reply while he made himself more comfortable in her mouth.

“I can’t wait to make you nice ‘n’ nasty.” Dejon loved dirty talk.

Kiki had no clue what the heck ‘nice ‘n’ nasty’ meant. She took a mental note to ask her gay bestie Duckie Capri. A self-proclaimed pig, Duckie was her Greenwich Village roommate, Brill, Inc. co-worker and he always told Kiki what’s what.

Slowly, Dejon’s fingers danced in her wetness.

She pulled back, releasing a popping sound with her lips. “Don’t make me…you know.” Unable to even say it, Kiki swatted his hand away and went back to sucking. Never once had she orgasmed in front of Dejon. But Lord, did she want to. She came close a few times. Even when alone, all by herself, she didn’t. At least, she thought she hadn’t.

“You feel so good, babes. Let’s spend the day together in bed.”

Her face burned, shaking her head to say she couldn’t. A part of her figured why not…truth was her boss, more than likely, wasn’t back yet from the previous night’s media party to notice Kiki’s absence at the trade show. However, being alone in a bed with Dejon Turay, caused her nerves to skitter and scatter as never before. Too self-conscious, Kiki realized she’d used her upbringing as an excuse to take a slow pace, maybe even distance herself from Dejon. Regardless, she wasn’t ready for full-on deflowering.

Up on his shaft, she glided her tongue, getting him slick.

“Put both hands on it,” his raspy voice encouraged.

Tickling his testicles with her left hand, she jacked his veiny shaft with her right. It throbbed in her hands.

“Babe, I said both hands.” Holding her wrists, Dejon put one hand in front of the other. “Get me hard. That’s it. Follow your fingers, down with your mouth. That’s my girl.”

“Hmm.”
I got this.
Kiki noticed Dejon’s breathing quickened. Plus, his dick was as long as ever. It couldn’t get any bigger, could it?
Freaky-deaky.

Just as she gained confidence, he rose up on his knees, over her.
Oh…here he goes.

Holding on to the back of her head, he leaned down and kissed her passionately. The intensity of his thick tongue filled her mouth and loosened her jaw. “Open wide, babe.”

“Ahhh!”

Quickly, his fat, juicy cock wasn’t in her mouth, rather all the way down her throat.

Whoa!
Kiki’s nostrils tickled from his groomed black pubes brushing against her sensitive face.

“Drop your hands. Let me fuck your sweet mouth. Now, suck in. That’s it. Now, release.” Pulling her face back, he kissed her again.

“My gosh.” Kiki felt buzzed.

Higher than that time she’d been fourteen and had tried Nitrous oxide. Her second youngest sissy, Marie Osmond, had worked at Provo’s only Dairy Queen. She’d gotten her hands on several whipped-cream chargers. Kiki had thought she flew then, but she was certainly flying at the moment.
BJs are better than whippets.

Dejon brought her mouth up to his cock again. He instructed, “Suck in.”

I’m suckin’. Dejon, you’re effin’ my face into a stretched-out pink sherbet butterfly. The Europeans were right. This
is
sex. And I feel like I’ve inhaled a case of whippets.

He brought his pelvis up, pumping her mouth with fierce rhythm. “Take it deep. Hold it. That’s it. Like that. Ah-huh. Good. Now, release.”

“Mmm….”

“Babe, this is the best. You’re perfect.”

Maybe we should do it today.
No, she couldn’t.

Out of all the family and friends who’d talked to her about sex in the past, it was her sister Sariah who’d said, “Staying pure ’til marriage means you don’t tease a man on whether or not you’ll bed him before your wedding day. If you frustrate him, he’ll cheat, or leave you before you get to the temple.” So Kiki had stuck to her promise, and Dejon had set a date. She didn’t waiver.

Bzz!
Her work cell chimed.

The ring was one specifically reserved for her self-made millionaire of a boss, Miss Taddy Brill.

Crap!

“Don’t stop.” Dejon’s grip tightened. “Touch my balls with your tongue. Babe, that’s it. Right there! Look up at me. Let me see your beautiful eyes. That’s my Kiki.”

Miss Brill is gonna kick my butt all the way back to the JFK airport.
Blonde locks fell, blocking her view as he fucked her mouth. “Hmmm.” Forgetting about the call, she started touching herself. She couldn’t help it. Dejon wound her up and turned her on just by his very presence. Tasting his beautiful dick was a gift, sufficient to make Kiki come enough buckets to fill the Great Salt Lake.

“Keep your mouth open. Make my cock disappear. Get it all the way in there.” Grunting louder, he impaled her and said he was getting close—whatever that meant.

Salty flavors covered her tongue. Pre-cum.

Ring!
The hotel phone rang in unison with her cell.
Bzz!
Great, Taddy was really trying to track her down.

“Watch those teeth!” Dejon snarled but kept thrusting on.

Yup. I’m dead. Miss Brill will be pounding on my door any minute now.
Kiki figured Taddy went straight from the nightclub to the trade show floor.

“Sooo close. Yessssah. Almost.”

Kiki’s cell buzzed. Again, the hotel room’s phone rang.

She pushed him back, withdrawing. “Dejon! Sorry.” A warm tear fell down her cheek.

Kissing her apologetically, he stood off the bed, grabbed Kiki’s cell phone, and handed it to her.

The smile she plastered on to put a sound of excitement in her voice contrasted with the lusty chaos in her mind as she answered, “Morning, Miss Brill!”

“Darling. Where the Hail Mary are you? You were supposed to be—”

“Sorry, Miss Brill. I had a surprise visitor stop by. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

“Visitor, my Kim Kardashian ass. Is your tall, hot-as-fudge Dejon Turay here again?”

“Maybe….”

“Sweet baby Jesus on a candy cane. I swear to Christmas. Every single time we travel for one of Paloma’s jewelry shows, Dejon pops out as if he were Santa Claus.”

“Hmmm. I guess so. I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

“Honey, he must love you because wherever you go—Rio, Monte Carlo, and let’s not forget Dubai—he’s spinning his records to see you. Now…are you serving up cherry pie in your room?” Taddy cackled at her own jokes.

Oh, brother.
“No cherries, Miss Brill.” Kiki glanced up at Dejon who had no clue what she’d just been asked. For as rich, Ivy League-educated and fiercely decked in Chanel as Taddy was, she spoke with a truck driver’s mouth. She also had absolutely no professional or personal boundaries.

“I’ll be down in ten minutes. Let me get dressed.” Kiki hung up and went to the closet. She pulled out a khaki pants suit with a pair of ballet flats her boss had bought her to wear.

*     *     *

Strawberry creams!

Gobsmacked, Dejon licked his fingers, tasting Kiki. Damn, he was close to making her come, without having a panic attack, as he did the last time when they were in Monte Carlo. He’d kept his erection, too. With Kiki around, that was never the problem.

Fuck.
Today would’ve been his first at making a girl orgasm, without Dash in bed with him to assist. He’d tried over the years to do it, all on his own. However, Dejon’s fears always caught up with him. The new medication he’d been taking helped. Close to a full recovery from the Hanzfeld Experiment, he wasn’t quite there—yet.

Screw those horrific telepathy tests they’d undergone as kids. Scientists had jacked up the frequency of light and sound to stimulate his nerves, in hopes the other twin would sense excitement or pain. Dash hadn’t felt shit, only Dejon. As an adult, this caused a severe anxiety disorder. When in bed with a lover, she’d often sense his unease, and neither of them would be able to enjoy themselves. Wound up tighter than any girl he’d ever met, he loved Kiki, and he wanted desperately for her to have fun with him, in and out of bed.

That’s how he’d gotten into spinning trance music. The control over the songs had allowed him to be more at ease. He’d often wondered what would happen if he ate Kiki out on top of his DJ booth. Would he be in tune with her body as well as his own? Would she orgasm then? He loved the control of the music and lights. He didn’t have that as a child at the Telepathic Institute.

“You are beautiful.”

She blushed. “Thank you.”

Aware of Kiki’s self-consciousness, he couldn’t resist watching her dress. Her body amazed him. The first woman ever to hold his attention for more than a few months, Kiki was intelligent and viewed the word in a refreshing way. He loved her. “Why don’t you wear a dress?”