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Proper "good girl" Virginia is so inexperienced, she doesn't know what she wants. All she knows is that sex with her ex-boyfriend was so boring, she craves something new. Something dirty and taboo. Her experienced, bad-boy friend Connor offers to open her eyes (and one of her other holes) to things she's never dreamed of – long, hard things, without protection – as long as she agrees that he’s the one in control.~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~Connor shoots a sideways look at me. I've known him long enough to tell he's got an idea, he just isn't sure whether to share it. It's the same look he used when we were kids and he suggested that we smoke some pot behind the school after classes let out. I had adamantly refused, for the record, but he did it without me anyway, and was nice enough not to rub it in my face that I had “missed out on all the fun.” That set the pattern for most of our lives, it seems like.“Just spit it out,” I roll my eyes at him. “What's your genius plan for turning me into a sexed-up trollop?”He laughs, a grin cracking his face and showing off a row of almost-perfect white teeth, with just a hint of crookedness. I do know that the crookedness is from a solid punch he received when we were seventeen. He claims he was defending some poor, helpless girl from a couple of thuggish jerks, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s a cover story, and he really just took a hard hit during his Tae Kwon Do class.“Not a trollop!” His face turns more serious, and he gets that look in his eye again, like he can't decide whether to continue. After a few moments of hesitation, he asks, “Do you… trust me?”“Of course, what do you mean?” I ask, puzzled.“I mean…” he keeps trailing off. I think this is the first time I've ever seen him act shy. “I could show you. Instead of telling you. Show you what you're missing.”
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(First Time Anal Erotica)
By Ella Louise
~~ All characters in this book are 18 or over. ~~
“Girl, you need some excitement in your life.”
Connor relaxes on his couch, his feet propped casually on the coffee table. With his arms crossed behind his head, he looks like he doesn't have a care in the world.
It just serves to make me feel even more frustrated with my own situation.
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
Sitting in the living room of my closest friend since childhood, the contrast between the two of us is almost shocking. His walls are plastered with posters of movie stars and models, athletes and porn stars, male and female, in various poses and stages of undress. He has had a string of boyfriends and girlfriends over the years, all casual, most of whom still remain friends. If I were to step into his bedroom, I know I would find lubes and toys and devices that I couldn't even begin to imagine what they're used for.
I, on the other hand, was brought up to be a proper Catholic girl. I've had one serious boyfriend my whole life, and even with him, I waited three years before allowing him to take my virginity. Underwhelming though it was, the mechanical, missionary sex I had with him is the only thing I've ever known. But as I get older, I am beginning to realize that I think something is missing. I need something new. At twenty-two, I shouldn't already be bored with sex, should I? I feel like I have some sort of itch, a craving that I have no idea how to satisfy.
So, I've come to Connor for advice.
A particular picture on the wall catches my eye. A muscular man, naked in profile, bending a naked woman forward in front of him, also in profile. The way their bodies are positioned, I can tell it’s a sex act, but nothing vulgar is visible. Unconsciously, I shift in my seat, distantly aware that I want sex, but not familiar enough with my own body to classify myself as “horny.” It’s so frustrating.
“I mean, did he even make you cum?” Connor asks me now, concern arching one eyebrow on his handsome face.
Despite our unlikely close friendship, I am still not used to being asked such personal questions. I blush as I shake my head no.
“And have you…?” he prods further. “On your own, I mean?”
“Once or twice,” I answer, feeling ashamed. It's hard to tell whether I'm more ashamed that I'm so inexperienced or that I'm admitting to having masturbated.
“I know I have nothing to complain about,” I continue quickly, trying to change the subject. “I'm
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