Chapter 4: Let’s Have Sex [4] [R-18 Contents!]
Emily’s virgin blood trickled slowly, dark and glistening, down the length of my cock. Some smeared across her inner thighs. Some splattered in bright drops onto the table and the floor below, tiny beads of red marking her first time.
I looked down at Emily, chest still rising and falling with uneven gasps, my sweat beading and sliding down between my ribs. Her body was a masterpiece of ruin beneath me—glistening, flushed, trembling faintly with each shaky exhale. Her arm was thrown across her forehead, eyes half-lidded but glowing, lashes wet from unshed tears, her lips parted and damp. Her thighs were splayed open beneath me in a way that could only be called debauched, yet nothing about her expression looked ashamed.
"Ahh... aahh... nnhhh..." Her breath caught again and again, like each sound was drawn from the ghost of our climax. She was still twitching beneath me—still bare, still raw, still so goddamn beautiful it hurt to look.
Her breasts were marked by me, the peaks swollen and sensitive, that perfect rose-gold hue of her nipples standing taut in the cooler air of the empty classroom. I’d kissed them, sucked and nibbled until she cried out, her back arching off the table like her body had wanted to climb into mine. Now those same peaks bore faint teeth marks and a sheen of my saliva that reflected the flickering light above.
My cock was still inside her. Deep. Buried in that tight, now thoroughly claimed pussy, and even though I’d just come, my body didn’t want to move. She pulsed around me with little spasms, aftershocks that clenched down so sweetly I could feel the need waking again.
I couldn’t believe it—I’d fucked Emily Johnson. The idol of the class, the untouchable, the poised and perfect girl with smiles that made boys fumble. And I’d been the one to take her virginity.
My fingers gently combed her hair away from her flushed face, and I finally whispered, "How are you feeling?"
She winced as I slowly, carefully pulled my cock from her. "Nnnh—ah... it still stings," she admitted, her thighs giving a slight twitch.
I continued pulling out, holding her hips steady, and as I slid free, a slow, thick mix of fluids followed—my cum, her wetness, and unmistakably, the delicate streak of red. Her blood. Her first time. It clung to my cock, then dribbled from her swollen, stretched opening in soft globs that ran between her thighs, down to the edge of the desk. It dripped over with a soft plip, leaving a trail that glistened on the wood and pooled on the linoleum below.
I exhaled hard, swallowing thickly at the sight. Her pussy was still open, slightly parted, visibly throbbing, trembling with the ache of being taken for the first time. A pink, glistening bloom that looked utterly ravaged—and utterly exquisite.
She turned her face toward me, cheeks flushed, lips curved up in a sleepy, blissed-out smile. "Good," she murmured softly, her voice hoarse and shaky. "Really... ah... good."
I couldn’t help myself. I leaned down and kissed her—slow, full, warm—and she hummed into it, lips parting with a gentle mmmn~. She tasted like breathless heat and the faint tang of sweat, and she kissed me back with a kind of need that hadn’t gone anywhere. Still hungry. Still greedy.