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She was at SDSC too, but she had moved into her own apartment, near the campus. She was a year older than me. I missed them. Both of them were brunettes, and had long, wavy hair. They were beautiful. I thought so anyway. We had become one family about ten years ago. My birth mother died from cancer. My father married a woman who had lost her husband to the same disease. They met at the hospital during visits there. I remembered my mother, and I still missed her once in awhile. But Cindy, my stepmother, had been good to me. She was a lovely woman, too. I loved this family, and I loved the way our relationships were changing, now that I was an adult. I didn't know it at the time, but my father married Cindy to help her more than anything. He felt sorry for her, because she was a widow with two young daughters. Anyway, that's what he told me the night I turned eighteen. He'd had a little too much to drink celebrating my birthday. We were sitting in the back yard sipping beer, and he had. He rubs it, stimulating me even more as if I wasn’t dripping already. He finally lines himself up to me, pulling me closer to his length. “This’ll hurt a little. Tell me if I need to stop, okay?” “Okay,” I nod. He pushes into me slowly until he hits my hymen. I wince. That hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would. He starts to move, gently at first. I put my weight on my elbows. I meet his hips as well, starting a rhythm between us. Our speed increases as well as the pleasure that comes with it. His movements become harder and faster. He holds my hips to move them to meet his pace. He kisses me feverishly. I return the favor with the same intensity. Our moans and skin slapping against each other is the only thing in the room. We grind on each other. His hardness pulsates inside me. “I’m so close. Faster,” I whisper. I can feel us both being so close to our release. His hand moves to grab my throat in a tight hold, but not enough to hurt me. That makes me so hot. He pushes my head.
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