Where it happened: An aprtment (friend owned the place)
Langauge: English
Sex: Female
Rating: 2
Category: Straight
Okay, I don’t know if I was supposted to click on the
symbol that I did, or am, but I’m a girl! This story is
gonna be a little long, yet HIGHLY detailed, so bear with me
Oh, and I know the title makes me sound like a lesbian (I’m
not, but I have no prob with them as friends) but read the
story and you’ll understand.
It happened about a week or less ago, I was walking
’round the neighboorhood, when I took a wrong turn in to
“Gang Allayway”. I heard screaming, thinking it might be
a friend of mine in distress, I followed the screams, where
I saw about 10-15 girls gathered around this one guy-this
one CUTE guy- beatting him to a pulp. I saw most, just
about all the girls were my friends. “Yo! Call off your
guard!” I said. The beatting stopped. “Oh, yo Art. This
guy way on our terrioty, gotta teach him a lesson ya know.”
one of the girls said. “Ya, I know. Say, I havn’t beatten
up a guy in a while, let me handle it, go on! Scat!” I
said, “Thanks Art.” The main girl flashed her teeth, and
within the secound, they were gone.
“Oh, please-oh please-OH PLEASE don’t kill me!!! I’m
new ‘ere in town! Honest!” he guy stammered (this is the
guy I have sex with). “Who said I was gonna beat ya up? I
know yer new, ya got a heavy accent there, kid. Italy?”
“Ce.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind, I ne-ed to get to the orphanage.”
he said. He was cute. His cloths were torn, he was bloody,
and I saw a pair of thick sunglasses off to one side.
“Whoa-buddy, stay right where you are. You need help.
C’mon.”
I helped the poor kid up, dusted him off, and handed him
the thick sunglasses. He had a bloody nose, was limping,
but surprisingly no one hair out of place!
“What are yer stats, kid?” I asked him, Better
stop calling him kid, I thought, he’s a little taller then
me. “Stats. Oh! Information! Uh, my name is Patrick, I’m
14, Italin, and an orphan.” Yup, I not calling THIS guy
kid nomore. “If you were born in Italy, how come your in
an orphanage here?” I asked. “Ask me not that, ask thiem.”
he said, smiling at me. “Your status?” he asked. “13,
american as Polish sauceage, and I’m an orphan to, but my
friend owns an aprtment buliding and gives me a place and
a way to live.” I said. “You’re a slut?!” he asked. “Kid,
I outta break yer arm for that. I’ma virgin, god. My pal
is a woman who lets me work the front desk. Here we are.”
We managed to get up to the room. I keep the room
clean and post-moaderan. “Take off your shirt,” I said,
once he sat on the bed, he hands me the shirt “Or what
you have left of it.”. He wasn’t musculer, but I feel for
him, half pitty, half I didn’t know. I pulled out a first-
aid kit. “Excuse ‘e.” he said, go up, spit in the bathroom
sink, and came back, with two teeth in his hand. “That’s
why I was talkin’ funny, Art. Art, isn’t that a boys name?”
He said smiling a little. “Sitdown. Ow! My girls gatcha
good.” He was horriabley bloodyed up. He washed up and then
I gave first-aid, or second-aid, done this befor.
“Done, well, with yer upper half at least,” I saw
he was hopld his hands over his coch. “What ‘appened?” I
said, nodding at his hands. “Oh, well, uh, the girls kinda
ripped off my zipper, heh-heh.” he nervosly said. “No sweat
I have pair of jeans you can keep, let me check.” If I had
only known that wasn’t all that he keept covered.
“YOW! Eee-eee-eee-eee ow ow ow ow ow!!!” I screamed
in pain, a deep cut with glass inside was in my right hand.
Patrick came over, staring at all the blood. “Sitdown, and
stay clam.” He said. I sat down on the bed. He washed his
hands. “What am I, diseced?” I said, a little hurt from the
fact that he had wash up, agian. “No, I have all this hot,
sticky goo-good, you sat down!” He flashed a phoney smile
the size of the sun and made a fake answer ending. I eyed
him, confused. “Oh, yer sunglasses, I found them, their in
the front pockect of my blouse. I stood up and tryed to retr
ive them, but I found I had glass in my left hand, too. “Uh
they can wait……” he started but I got upset. “Whats up
with you? I never did anything to you! God, whats so wrong
with me that you won’t touch me?!” I could feel tears going
down my cheecks. “I-I-oh good greif!” he said, sitting down
next to me, to close for comfort. He pulled the sunglasses
from my pockect. “Have you ever seen that one person you
know will change your life forever?” he said pulling the
glass from my palms, and cleaning the wound. “Kinda, yeah.”
I said, not wanting to say he was the person. “Well, I
never knew love befor. Not from ANYONE. I never had a mom
or a dad. So when I heard about all the gangs in America, I
came, looking for my death. I heard about this gang-your
gang- that is killer, so, I tresspassed, and hoped I’d be
killed. But them you had to come a long, & show me love.”
He was blushing now. “I-I-oh for hevan sake! Patrick, why
didn’t ya say so?!” I blushed. That’s when
we started a kiss.
“Pat’, I’m a little shouk up.” I said. I could
see he really wanted me to kiss him agian. But no way I
make the first move. I laid back, or tried to, when I found
Pat’s arm behind me. He looked at me a gave a smile. It was
dark, almost 11, and I laid down on the bed (a water bed), &
patted a place next to me. Pat laid down next to me, and we
help hands for the longest time befor he spoke. “I think I
love you.” he said, looking at me with a smile. “How do you
know what love is?” I asked. “Well when I am with you, or
close by, I seem to get rock hard and my insides wanna come
out,” he said. “I think that’s just a bonner.” I blurted
out. I got up and go into some bedcloths (looked for sheer
things, to turn him on), and got back in bed. “You going to
sleep?” He asked, looking disappionted. Think fast Art.
“Why don’t you change for bed?”
“I don’t have my pjs, or my, uh-.” He blushed.
I got up. Went to my dresser, and pulled out to things.
A pair or boxers and a purple bunny.
“Ta-Da.” I said, tossing them to him.
He got up and changed, and laid down closer to me, putting a
hand on my hip.
“Thanks.” he whispered.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“Oh.”
His hand slips toward my inner-theigh.
And he kisses me.
I can’t help myself anymore. I kiss him back, and we make-
out.
We’re sitting up on our knees in the bed.
He’s nervous, I can tell, so am I.
I move my hand to his penis, I can feel it’s warmth threw
the boxers.
I pinn him to the bed.
“We don’t have to do this.” I whisper, rubbing his penis
slowly with one hand, while my other tuggs at the topp of
the boxers.
“I know, but I really, really want you.” He says nervously.
I kiss him.
He sits up, pulling off his boxers.
He’s now naked, he kisses my neck while slowly undoing my
night shirt.
I wore a lingura to bed. White and gold. The top is a str-
appless bra, with pieces of leather connecting down to a low
dip show-all pantie, which then has leather strapps down to
sheer croch less panty-hose.
He undose the bra, and works slowly, keeping one hand one my
pussy.
Finally it’s off.
We’re nervous as hell.
He starts kissing down my chest, a though runs through my
mind.
Is he a virgin?
Yes, he had to be.
I let out a groan off pleasur.
He eats me out almost letting me cum.
“Patrick, please, let me-” he cuts me off by sticking in his
hugh 9 inch penis, with a inch and a half whith, which was
getting bigger.
“Patrick, ow, it hurts, please, you’re-you’re to big!”
He slides all the way in, and the pain stops.
I fell a wave of hevan go over me.
And we start to move our hips in perfect rhyme.
Wait.
“Patrick, why did you pull out?”
But I know why.
And yes I did.
I kisses my way down to his penis, and make him climax
three times.
I start to pull away, and he put’s a hand behind my head
and keeps me pinned.
Hours after we wake up……..
“Whoa.” I say under my breath and I look up to see Patrick
looking at me.
“AAAA!” God did he scare me!
“What?” He said, looking like he fears I hate him now.
“You scared me, silly.”
“Oops. Sorry.”
We got our cloths back on, but it was only 3 AM, so we made
out.
Yes, that’s the end of my storie. Weird yet
true. Well, maybe. But that’s for me and Patrick to know
😉
(All the names have been changed, and well as
location) If you want to hear from me and Patrick (we
live together, teen-marrige), just e-mail us at:
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