After drinks and dancing with friends on 6th street all night, I texted Jake to see if he was working and could give me a ride home. We’d only met a few nights before when I wrote down my number on a napkin at the pizza shop where he worked, but he seemed interested.
When we got to the parking lot at my apartment, he kissed me for the first time, his tongue swirling with mine as I softly gripped his face. He was overwhelming sexy with curly blonde hair, rough hands, and sincere confidence, and I wanted to invite him up, to have sex with him that night, but I was on my period, and I told him that. I wondered if he thought I was making it up as an excuse to wait, and I told him that as well. He said he believed me.
We sat in his Jeep talking for what seemed like hours. He told me he was from New York, he had moved to Austin about 4 years before, and had spent the majority of that time in a relationship that ended a few months prior. It didn’t seem like he was hung-up on her or dwelling in the past, it just seemed honest. I told him about how I moved here around the same time he did to go to UT, and how I’d recently returned from an unforgettable trip studying abroad in Argentina.
We talked music, and I lifted my black dress up to show him my Chili Peppers tattoo. I only later realized that he got a good look at my blue panties. The way he openly offered information and stories from his past made me feel like there must be deeper layers that he didn’t share so easily. We kissed goodnight, and I went upstairs alone.
The next day we went out to eat at Pluckers, a wing bar in walking distance of my apartment, and he told me more stories from New York, about how people often picked fights there and how everyone seems easier going in Texas. Our faces and fingers were messy with sauce the whole time; neither of us cared.
This time I invited him up afterwards, but I told him I was still on my period. I wondered if he thought I was weird for continuously bringing up, but I honestly just really wanted to have sex with him already and didn’t want the first time to be a bloody mess. He didn’t seem to mind.
After lots of making out and a few glasses of Fernet, he came up from behind me, one hand holding my chin and the other touching softly over my skirt. I moaned into him, wrapping my arms back around him, warmth budding between my legs at the thought of his fingers on my skin. I felt his own excitement growing beneath his jeans. He pulled my skirt up, tracing my lips over my cotton thong and pulling my mouth to his. As we kissed he moved beneath my panties, and everything faded except his fingers on my clit and his hot breath on my ear.
My orgasm came easily, as if it had been waiting patiently all along, and he was simply coaxing it out from inside of me. I was beyond impressed with his skill as well as my body’s deep response to his touch. I wanted more, and I wanted to return the favor. The blowjob I gave him on the futon after was rushed but thrilling since my roommate could come home at any moment and catch us.
A few days later I got a text from him inviting me to go watch a movie at his place. And this time my period was finally over…
This story was written in response to the “Memories” prompt for Wicked Wednesday.