For I Have Sinned

Goth Boy and I had been out at The Rock Club, dancing and drinking and arguing the night away. It had gotten to a point where we argued every time we drank together… which was pretty much always. This night was a little different, though.

Soundtrack: Bodies – Drowning Pool.

We walked the same way home that we always walked – darting between cars on the scary road, up the big hill that never seemed that bad when we were pissed, and past that old church that we’d leaned against and made out on too many times before. We’d argued all the way, too.

“You’re doing my head in,” he huffed, before leaning back against the rock wall of the church. No making out; just a moment to catch his breath.

“Why are you here then?” I retorted back. Truth be told, I’d already forgotten what we were arguing about. It happened a lot.

“I’ll just leave you here, shall I?” he threatened, but we both knew he wouldn’t do it. He was too much of a gentleman for that. Goth Boy was a bit of a prick at times, but he wasn’t that kind of prick. (Unlike The Very First One.)

“Can we just make out?” I sighed, leaning on the wall next to him. “I don’t want to argue anymore.”

I hated wasting potential fucking time on arguments and pettiness.

Goth Boy turned and frowned at me, then grinned. “Yeah, let’s make out.”

So, we did.

And we didn’t stop.

In fact, we somehow managed to shimmy along the wall, inside the unlocked gate, and then right against the steps that lead to the massive double doors, snogging and heavy petting all the way.

I’ll never forget how cold those steps felt on my ass cheeks as he ordered me to sit down and “spread ‘em”. I might’ve been drunk and the years may have passed, but that memory sure hasn’t. I’ll never forget the moment that my bare ass and legs made contact with those stone-cold steps. Freezing cold. Middle-of-winter, middle-of-the-night cold. It was on/off snow/sleeting, but we were too drunk to feel it.

I gasped loudly and he clamped his hand over my mouth. “Shut up.”

I beg your fucking pardon.

It’s amazing how quickly I remembered what we we’d been arguing about in the first place… and how much I wanted to argue about it again. He didn’t give me the chance, though. With his hand still clamped over my mouth he half-guided, half-pushed me back on the top step… donking my head on those big-ass doors in the process.

Did he apologise? No.

Did he drop to his knees and shove my skirt up to my hips? Yes.

He looked up at me with angry, yet lustful eyes. It was quite the combination. He was determined to make me come, but also didn’t want to, at the same time. I think? It was pretty much how I felt about him, though. I wanted to make him come… but I also didn’t think that he deserved it.

A shudder of anticipation mixed with the cold rippled down my spine, and I raised my hips off the step, giving him easier access to remove my underwear.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed, tugging them down, then stuffing them into his pocket.

A gasp of surprise escaped my lips as his fingers explored my cunt, gliding down between my soft, sticky folds and delicately dancing with my clit. I let my head rest back on the floor, completely surrendering to whatever might happen next. My anger towards him had been replaced by a need for him alongside slight nerves about potentially getting caught, seen, rumbled. Mostly, though, I was too far gone.

I pulled him up to kiss me, tasting myself from his lips, before letting him kiss his way back down again. Then, with a steady rhythm he lapped at me, every now and then dipping the tip of his tongue into my cunt before returning to flick and circle my clit. It felt exquisite, dangerous, better than anything else I’d ever felt. Perhaps it was the cold, or the outdoor setting? Either way, I didn’t believe it could feel any better, but somehow it did. With each roll of his tongue, and a little help from my fingers, the sparkling sensation deep inside me grew bigger and sparkled with more intensity. I was losing my mind, or my body, or both.

My spare hand grasped at the cold stone, trying to find something to steady myself and bring me back to reality. It didn’t work; I couldn’t find anything. Instead, I lost all sense of reality, throwing my head back and arching my back as the sparkling sensation grew and grew and grew. I was sure my whole body was going to explode.

He clearly thought that too, as his hand returned once more to its spot across my mouth – and just in time. I came… for the very first time with him and/or with anyone else. And I writhed around so much that I fell off the top step and slid right to the bottom, taking Goth Boy down with me.

Friends, I had just discovered make-up sex… and outdoor sex… and orgasms in front of someone.

Life would never be the same again.

It’s what God and Jesus would’ve wanted. (Or I’m going to straight to hell.)

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.

The next blog post in the dating timeline is this one: Shave.