Our First Time -

[MKP4]

Forward:
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I guess enough time has past that it doesn’t matter. Times have changed. Perhaps even for the better.

Our First Time
by MKP4

Megan was my classmate in chemistry during our freshman semester at university. This was many years ago. I was paired with her as lab partners. When she first sat down next to me in our assigned seats, I swear my heart skipped a pace. Megan was nothing short of breathtaking. She had thin, blond hair that hung like gold from her head. Her small rose-petal lips graced her perfect (and I mean per-fect) complexion. And her starry blue eyes were so bright, they shown like a full moon on a clear evening. I thought I'd won the lottery.

I remembered her first words to me. She blurted cynically, "I love these classes that I'll never use." She pressed her lips together as she stared a book receipt.

I winced at her, and just started the conversation over. "Hi. I'm Michael", I said slowly but steadily.

She paused for a second, looking at me. Then a smirk appeared. She shook her head slightly saying, "Hi. I'm Megan" in a resigned tone.

She reached out her hand to greet me. I steadied myself, retaining some composure as I eagerly took it. "Soft" I remember, as an electric chill ran up my spine.

It turned out that I was a few years older than Megan. I opted to go into the military after high school to earn time against my government sponsored college tuition. Megan was a first theater major. And taking intro chemistry was a requirement. It wasn't ACTUALLY a requirement; she could have taken the intro class in any of the physical sciences. Chemistry happened to be the only class that fit in her schedule. Lucky me.

I, on the other hand, was a bona fide chemistry major. Oddly enough after college, I never did anything with it (opting to open a small chain of music stores). A small irony to Megan's comment that she would take this one class that she'd never use. And I ended up taking four years of classes that I'd never use. But at that moment, I certainly didn't care.

See, soon our roles were evident. Megan had no head for chemistry. Don't get me wrong. She was a bright individual. Chemistry just wasn't her thing. So as she languished in her struggle to pass the class, I would often be her knight in shining armor. It was all so perfect, until the day she mentioned .. her boyfriend.

I remember how I felt that day like it was yesterday. We had been seeing each other after class, went to lunch and dinner, and even shared some of the same friends for three months. Then at dinner one night, at the usual table that we all grew accustom to sitting, Megan says the words "my boyfriend". It hit me like someone tossed a bread roll at my head. It was inane and almost nonsensical that she would mention it now. All the sound in the room seemed to fade as if someone were turning the volume down bit by bit. Her lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a thing. "My boyfriend" was the only words I remembered her saying that night. I never even caught his name.

You know when you like someone? And you kind of think they may like you? There's this electricity that's invisible but so real you can almost feel it coursing in your veins. Well, that was Megan to me. And the appearance of her boyfriend in our dialog was like a short circuit in my brain. We would talk, oh about anything, and the feeling of warmth would wash over me. Then the word "boyfriend" would come out of her mouth and I'd almost want to get up and scream.

And our conversation weren't just about the weather or some stupid current affair. We'd have heart to heart conversations where feelings were shared. And this made it all the more difficult because when you're getting close to someone, you don't want to stop. And you don’t want to have to second-guess your own emotions because you're afraid of that terrible word "boyfriend". But it’s hard to keep your emotions in check when we talked about everything, including sex.

It struck me odd that she never liked sex with her boyfriend. At least, she never spoke of it in a positive light. Though from the amount of conversation we've had on the topic, I mistakenly thought they were banging each other like a pair of diamond-doped bunnies. But as it turned out, they weren't. When her boyfriend was horny, he'd expect sex. Or more accurately, he'd expect her to be horny and want to shag. But, if she were ever in the mood, he would parade it in front of her as though he was always the reason. It was "always" because his physical prowess somehow made HIM the perfect aphrodisiac. I'd listen to Megan go on about how sometimes she'd want sex, but the price she'd pay in dealing with his ego made her feel cheap, and dirty.

"Did you ever consider being raped?" I asked her one night as I tiresomely listened to the same story. The look on her face went from amused to disgusted. She slammed her book shut and started tossing papers into her backpack. “What have I done!?” I thought. I needed to stop her before she became more drastic. I was so afraid she'd storm out.

"No seriously." I stumbled nervously, "sometimes .. um .. some women need an escape sometimes .. when sex isn't about anything .. and they don't want or have to feel cheap about anything ... I'm talking about .. a normal normal .. er .. IT'S A VERY NORMAL THING!" She stashed her last book in her backpack and glared at me.

"You are sick." And she left.

Smooth. Real Smooth. That didn't go very well.

I don't know what made me SAY what I said. But I know what made me THINK what I said. As a teen, I'd sneak into my dad’s study and read his case files (something I look back now as a very, very bad thing). He was a psychiatrist, and authored some very well known textbooks on sexual deviancy. I voyeuristically read about all these women who fantasized and practiced fantasy rape. Their backgrounds varied. But in many cases, it just seemed that they developed this fantasy as an outlet for sexual tension that could not be otherwise expressed without guilt or internal remorse. Now.. I was a chemistry major, so many of you will just have to forgive me. I know now that I should have left it to the professionals. Damn me.

It wouldn't for another week until I'd talked to Megan. I was afraid that she already told all our mutual friends what I freak I was. I almost flinched whenever something greeted me. But Megan and I had to talk and see each other. I was still her chemistry tutor after all.

So one night, we did some equations and juggled some class-related problems. Then out of nowhere she said without looking up, "Why did you say that?" By her tone I knew she meant about last week and not about the molar unit ratios problem I was trying to explain. I stopped and took a deep breath.

"I didn't mean anything by it." I carefully started. "I was just trying to help." Then I explained about how society restricts sexual conduct particularly of women. Our childhoods are bombarded with demands for chastity. The fail-safes to protect us sometimes make us hate sex. In adulthood, these fail-safes are not only hindrances to happiness, they can stifle what is otherwise a perfectly normal human need.

Megan listened as I tutored her in the mechanics of fantasy role-play. How does a couple start the fantasy? How do they properly end it? What to do if something goes wrong? How to ask for it without sounding needy? Everything. Everything I could remember from hours of lawlessly sneaking into my father's study.

I guess our scholastic relationship made it easier for Megan to see me as an authority figure. In truth, I'm sure I barely knew what I was talking about. One thing I did know for certain though. Remember the electricity? It was back. It was back in a big way.

After that night, we didn't speak of it again for a long time. But it was a good talk. I could tell by the way Megan acted towards me. She was reassured that I wasn't a creep. And that there was some truth in what I said, even if not relevant to her. Things were back to normal, only better. Winter break came. And we went home apart.

After the New Year, the second semester was ready to begin. I got a call from Megan asking whether I could swing past Bradford and drive her back to school. I told her that I would but I had to go up early to straighten out some mess with my financial aid. She said, "That's no problem, I don't mind being there early. It’d give me a chance to get my books before the madhouse begins." I agreed and picked her up at her house. The ride was long. Megan slept most of the way.

When we arrived, I dropped her off at her empty dormitory building and was about to leave. Then I turned and asked, "what about dinner?" The dining halls wouldn't be open for another two days. "Do you want to just eat out?"

"No." She replied with a beautiful smirk, "I need to stay in tonight." There was an awkward pause, "I need to wash my hair."

"Okay." I said dumbly, and started the car. It wasn't until I drove away did I understand. Months ago, during our talk about fantasy role-playing, I told her that couples would use a code, a way of telling each other covertly when they wanted to play. For instance, one might say, "I need to wash my hair." as an invitation. That was the precise example I used.

See, role-play isn't just about getting into character. Like any game, there are rules. And the rules must be followed. When the game begins, there must be a begin-phrase. This let's both parties know that the game has begun and that they must remain in character. There is a safe-word, a word that is used to stop the game immediately. There is a safe-gesture if speech is inhibited by gagging or other restraints. There is even a pause protocol when the safe-word or safe-gesture is used. It is complex. But within the confines of a highly intelligible rule-set, anything can happen safely.

I barely knew what to do. I was caught off-guard. After a few minutes of driving, my car came to a screeching halt. I got out in the middle of nowhere and paced madly. What to do? What to do? Think! Think! Think! Damn it! Think!

Minutes later, I got back in the car and pulled up to the nearest tele. Rifling through the phonebook until I found what I was looking for, I grabbed the handset. Change! No change! I sprinted back to the car searching madly for a coin. Change! Change! YES - Change! Back to the booth! I carefully dropped my coin into machine as if to cross the river Styx, and coolly dialed the phone. A man answered as I expected. It was, after all, the local pizzeria. I gave him my order and Megan's dorm address. Now I had a half hour to prepare.

I ran home and got ready. I took a butter knife and I put duct-tape on the edges. Yeah - a butter knife is already dull. I is a college student after all. I'm not dumb. But I wasn't taking any chances. I'd never hurt Megan. Or so I thought. As it turns out, later in our relationship, Megan has quite a penchant for pain. I looked over my handiwork. Perfect. Now I just needed to get some rope from the locker and I was ready.

I raced over to her dorm. I probably could have made twenty very safe butter knives I got there so bloody fast. Minutes seemed like hours as I waited outside the main door. But finally the delivery guy pulled up. He walked up to the intercom and found her room. There was a brief argument about how she didn't order pizza. "Come on guy. Come on", I pleaded silently. He read her the address and stood his ground. "Good man. Good man." Finally, she relented and said she was coming down. "YES!" I ran up to him and quickly apologized. I told him there was some mistake with the address and that I'd called it in. I gave him some money and took the pizza. He said he needed to wait for the door, that some girl was coming down because of this mistake. I told him not to worry about it. I know the girl and I'd explain. Evidently any half-ass story and a fat tip can make a delivery guy vanish into thin air.

I left the pizza at the door and ran around the other side of the building. The emergency exit leading from the laundry room door was always unlocked. I know because we broke it one time when misbehaving (a pretty good tale in itself). I slipped into the building and ran up four flights of stairs to Megan's suite. I punched in the combination and entered the common area. Her door was last door of four rooms. It was open and I went inside. I was sure Megan was still downstairs confused by the missing deliveryman (and a pizza on the floor). This gave me time to tie some ropes to the bed, shut off the light, and wait.

When she came back into the dark room, I swiftly gabbed her from behind tugging her close to me. Covering her mouth, I pressed the knife into her face. She shrieked beneath my clutches. I whispered, "Scream and you'll regret it for the rest of your life." That was the begin-phrase I hoped she'd recognize from our talk. If not, I was risking - jeez, I guess I was risking everything.

"Do you understand?" I whispered again.
She paused and nodded briefly, sobbing and whimpering. Her tears were real and several times I considered just leaving before this got out of hand. But I was driven to go through with this.

The room was half-lit by the lights outside. I shoved her in front of her full-length mirror. The lamp radiated on Megan like a soft stage light. I stayed carefully hidden from it, positioning her to block its effect on me. In the shadow, I pressed my body behind hers.

With the knife still at her face, I softly ordered her to remove her blouse. She was shaking and slowly, reluctantly undid each button. She paused as the last button gave. Ajar, though the smooth clothing, her flawless flat stomach moved with her staggered breathes. "Take it off", I ordered. Fearful, she slowly slid it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She covered herself as best she could with her arms, obscuring her bra and cleavage.

"Now your skirt." Hearing that, she began to panic. She shook her head with my hand still cupping her mouth. Megan wasn't protesting per se, merely letting out soft mewls of fear.

"I won't ask again." I said brandishing my knife. She nodded abruptly, and slowly lowered her hands to her sides. As the skirt hit the floor, she again covered herself with her arms.

"Put your hands on your head."

Megan paused.

"Do it!" I said in a soft but stern tone.

She complied. Again my heart skipped a beat. She was glorious. Her small frame befitted her slender physique. I always knew that Karen had a wonderful body. But in that light, goddesses’d have envied her. Her firm breasts were held together by her maiden bra. There were no “miracle bras” backs then. Her magnificent cleavage was the real thing. Her unbelievable, bare legs trembled beneath her as I lowered my knife exploring her flesh. She cringed as its cold edge violated her intimate womanliness, pulling up her bra.

“Look at yourself”, I demanded. Sobbing still, she raised her head to see her captive image.

"You are so beautiful", I whispered into her ear. "And tonight, you're mine." My voice was confident, and terrible. I was not myself, some simple chemistry student. In that moment with that Venus before me, I had become a both prince, and monster.

I pulled her back and forced her onto the bed. She was shaking like a leaf. I straddled her stomach and reiterated my position, "If you scream, this is where they will find you." I tied her wrists to the bed and began my terrible torture.

First I removed Megan's socks. I'm not sure why I did that. But since I'd never done this before, I wasn't hard on myself. Next I forcefully yanked off her panties. Immediately, I covered her mouth again as she let out a shrill.

"This is just the beginning", I said. "Don't make me hurt you."

Then I crawled down between her glossy legs. At first she started to panic whimpering "no. no. no." I place the knife on her stomach and she froze quietly. I pried her legs apart and put my mouth on her most sacred place. Taking my time, I ran my flaccid tongue slowly up and down her outer labia. I could hear her sobbing softly. Her knees tried to come together from time to time. But I never gave her relief, forcing them farther apart than before. I moved to her perineum at the bottom of her vaginal opening and lapped with more intensity. As one hand cupped her soft buttocks, my tongue found its way to her clitoris. With my lovely hostage restrained, I was free to brushed her vaginal opening with my other fingertips. I was astonished when almost suddenly, Megan's clitoris stiffened. Correspondingly I realized that the scent of the moistness wasn't my saliva. I was doing something right! I was doing IT right! And hell no, I wasn't going to stop. Within moments, her whole body stiffened. My fingers that was moments ago lightly brushing her labia was now rigid pressing against her, on her, and then into her. Thrashing her head back and fourth she started begging, "No! no! No! NO!" Suddenly she arched back with a startling cry, wrangling against her bonds as her first orgasm took her.

My member was so hard I could hardly breath. In the wake, I climbed up on top of her and paused. I wanted her. I wanted so bad, but her performance had left me unnerved. And then for the first and only time I ever came out-of-character, I panted, "Do you remember the safe-word?"

Still gasping and crying, she eagerly nodded, never once looking like it was a misplaced question. I could scarcely believe it. She was so fucking good! Damn theater majors!

I immediately went back into character. Earnestly my erect flesh found her wet, quivering cunt. So smooth from her juices was Megan that she was without any defense. Her body buckled like a wave beating against the sands as I pushed myself into her. My body was tight against hers as the ropes pulled and slapped against the metal bed frame. Her eyes were firmly shut. Her head tossed back. I thrusted, and then again. I found a rhythm slightly faster than my tongue's, remembering to keep tight contact with her clitoris. (Oh! the things you can learn in the military.)

Again she started shrieking, "Oh! Please No! Please! No! No! No. NO!" crescendoing into thunderous screeches. Then there was an atomic pause followed by an explosion – BLAM!!! Megan bucked so wildly that she could have thrown a seasoned rider. I was so hot; I thought I might pass out. Still I thrust in time with her, knowing this could be the fuck of her life. But I too am mortal. I'd fought my urge for what seemed like an eternity. And finally it could no longer be contained! My orgasm was as every bit as intense as hers. I felt my body empty into Megan as I fell, spent beyond words.

We rested for a moment as I coddled her. In time, I found some small ounce of strength to crawl up and untied her. I kissed her on the forehead as you would a kindred friend. Then I left her there to rest.

I sat outside at the kitchen table in the common area. My mind was as numb as my body. But I needed to be out there, away from her. I had stared directly into the sun, and tasted forbidden fruit. I would never be the same again.

The door slowly opened, and Megan, beautiful as a princess came out still bare footed. Wrapped in a bathrobe she sat next to me. She ran her fingers in my hair and placed her chin on my shoulder. Without much talk, we sat, and glowed and delighted in each other. No amount of tutelage could have led to this. We had achieved - perfect chemistry.

The food was long cold - but it was delicious.

MKP4