emo

There’s just something about goth chicks. I don’t know what it is, but they do it for me. It could possibly that they scare me a little.



Kara was a barista, kind of. She worked at a coffee shop, but it wasn’t a chain. The coffee wasn’t that great, and I think her duties as a barista were to squirt the flavor syrups into the coffee.



She was slight with perky a-cups, but she when she spun around the coffee station, she would betray some deadly curves behind her apron. She had tattoo sleeves and enough piercings on her ears to add at least a pound to her head. She had short black hair and makeup reminiscent of death from Sandman: very dark eyeliner and a bloom surrounding her left eye.



Despite the bad coffee, I was hooked–all because of her, and drank at the shop at least twice anytime she was working, once I figured out her schedule. I would come in, order a coffee and watch her grudgingly make it for me. Then I would go sit in the corner and pretend to play with my phone or read the hip alt weekly paper stacked up at the entrance. I would be positioned to surreptitiously watch her work.



Despite never smiling and obviously hating her job and most if not all of the clientele, she had an accidental grace to her movements that was positively beguiling.



I could guess what she thought of me: probably some corporate suit wannabe yuppie kid, which was true in it’s own right. Although I did work for a non-profit, I worked in the finance side, and spent most of the time working around IRS regulations. And I did wear a suit. This wasn’t the career I set out to, but I was young, there weren’t a lot of jobs available, and I was planning on figuring it all out after I paid off my immense student loan debt.



After about two months of creeping, I decided that it was time to sack up and ask her out. I rationalized that I had nothing to lose. In fact, if she said no, at least then I would be too embarrassed to come back and would save money by not having two cups of expensive but awful coffee day.



She worked the afternoon shift on Saturdays, and the coffee shop was conveniently right next to a dive bar. I went to the dive bar at noon for some liquid courage, and after two shots of shit whiskey, three tall beers, and a water to mask the beer, I got off the stool straightened up my clothes, and headed next door.



No one was in the shop when I came in, and Kara was working alone. She was in the back wiping a table. She looked up. I knew her name because she had to wear a name tag, which she had made herself and was artistic in some ornate calligraphy. She didn’t know my name, but she knew me by my order.



“Medium coffee, right. I’ll be right there.”



“No thanks.”



“What? You want something different? Like a mocha?”



“No. I was just wondering what you were doing tonight.”



She froze, and I felt my face blaze up from fear and embarrassment.



“I have thing.”



“Oh.” I pressed on because there was no turning back. “How about tomorrow night?”



“Nothing.”



“Let me take you out.”



“It’s a Sunday.”



“We can go out on a Sunday.”



“Okay.”



“Great!” I smiled. I’ll come by here after your shift. You’re off at 3:30 right?”



“Creepy, but yeah. 3:30, but I’ll want to get changed.”



At this point, you’ve made the date, and you have to suavely extricate yourself from the room before you say something stupid. I failed.



I backed out the door with a stream of goodbyes like I couldn’t choose one. “Great. See you then. Can’t wait. Take care. See you tomorrow. It’ll be fun. I’m Jeff by the way. Bye…”



Once out the door, I pretty much took off and ran.



***



The next day, I showed up at 3:15, and hung out outside the coffee shop until she came out.



Oh my God. She came out wearing a little black dress. Sexual plutonium. It contrasted with her stark milky skin and played with her black tattoos. She was a vision.



I smiled and tried to say something.



“Hi! You… look… uh… great.”



“Thanks,” she said flatly. I figured you only saw me with the black tee, black pants, and black apron, so I thought I probably shouldn’t shock you with color. Not that I own any clothes with color.”



I think that was a joke, but I was too scared to laugh.



“So where are we going?”



I knew I was down on points as far as charm was concerned. I had acted like an idiot and hadn’t showed any personality. It was time to take risks and act boldly. I offered her my arm.



“Take hold! It’s a surprise!”



After about fifteen minutes, I finally was able to relax a little and make conversation. I had assumed she was a vegetarian, so I had made and packed tofu miso sprout salads to eat. I led her to the canoe livery next to Baker Street Bridge on the Brine River that was right downtown next to Naragansett Park. My initial plan had been for a canoe ride, but I didn’t dare bring it up with her wearing such a low-cut skirt.



So we ate the salads by the salads at a picnic table looking down at the river.



“How’d you know that I was a vegetarian?”



“Lucky guess?”



She smiled. Wow. It was the first smile I’d ever seen on her. It lit up the whole park. She had a great row of teeth and her eyes brightened.



“Whoa?”



“What?”



“I’ve never seen a smile before. Its beautiful.”



“Shut up.”



“No. I’m sorry. I meant, you are always so serious at the coffee shop.”



“I fucking hate it there. I work there as a favor for my dad because he can’t afford another employee.”



I thought about offering advice on making better coffee might make the place more money, but I figured it would be better to move to another line of conversation.



Well, it’s a very pretty smile. That’ all. So, what do you do when you’re not barista-ing?”



She was an art student at the Vermeer Institute, and I’d read that it was a highly regarded program internationally. She didn’t have any career goals, and just knew that she loved art. She had waited four years before going to the institute, and felt awkward being older than most of the other students.



Once our salads were over, we went for a walk around the city. She took my hand, and I felt lighter than air. Eventually, she maneuvered us to her apartment.



“Well, this is me.”



“Oh. Uh. OK. Well, I had a great time. Maybe we could do it again sometime.”



“Yeah. That would be nice. I had a good time too.”



We exchanged numbers. I went in for a polite hug and she drew me in for a kiss. It took me by surprise, but it was heaven.



“See you soon,” she winked, and went up to to the door to her apartment.



I watched her get in, and turned away and headed off for the subway.



I was just two blocks away, when I felt a text.



It was Kara: “Come back here. Dates not over yet.”



Just reading it gave me a tingle in my pants. I spun around and practically sprinted back to her apartment.



I got up to her door. Over the intercom, I heard “I’m up in 3B,” and she buzzed me in.



I ran up the stairs to 3B, and before I could knock, the door opened and a hand grabbed me and yanked me in.



In seconds, she had me on the floor with her tongue down my throat. I tried to join in and clutched on to her ass. Underneath that spectacular dress, she had two perfect round cheeks and I held on to them for dear life.



She was straddling me, and was kissing all over my face, but it wasn’t sloppy. She knew what she was doing. It was manic, but it was dangerously arousing and she was in control.



She lifted herself off of me for a second and raised her ass off my crotch, and looked down at me. “Wanna see a magic trick?”



“God, yes!”



She then grabbed the straps of her little black dress and in less than half a second had pulled it completely off and sent it flying.



She was completely naked! She hadn’t been wearing anything underneath that thing!



“Oh my god!” I yelled.



She went back to kissing me, while simultaneously working of getting my belt and pants off. Her lips formed perfectly around my mouth, and her tongue explored all of my mouth and throat.



She was very deft, and my pants were soon off. She kissed me on the lips one more time and said, “I’ll be right back.”



She crawled down and pulled my boxers down and without using her hands completely deep-throated me. I took my shirt off while I enjoyed her work.



She had great suction and was a wonder with her tongue. She used her teeth a little bit down at the base, and I was surprised by how good the little shocks of pain felt.



As good as this all felt, I felt wrong not doing anything. I sat up and raised her head off my dick.



“Where’s your bedroom?”



She nodded over at a door to the left of us. I took initiative, and pushed her back on her ass, grabbed her by her thighs, and picked her up. I carried her over to the room and threw her on the bed. She landed and got on all fours and gave me a hungry look. “On your back,” she commanded.



I quickly complied with a leap to her bed. She climbed on top of me and went back to work on my dick with her pussy in my face. It was a picture. Her white skin and trimmed pitch black bush looked like an erotic black and white photograph. Her folds were so inviting, and she was sopping wet. I dove in with my mouth and felt her moan into my cock.



I lapped up her moistness like a dog, and judging by her writhing legs clamping onto my head and her continued moans, he was loving it. Meanwhile the hoovering she was doing on my dick was bringing me closer and closer.



I was so close to coming. Her taste, her scent and the view of her had brought me to the edge, and then it happened. Something was in my asshole!



I howled. I was not expecting this, and it had never happened before. I had always thought it disgusting, and out of jerk reaction, I wailed and flipped her off of me. Her teeth tracked their way off of my dick as she was yanked off, and it really hurt. Also, my erection was completely gone.



The terror soon subsided and I looked at her. I think I hurt her feelings. She looked hurt and maybe even close to tears.



“No. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that. No one’s ever done that before.”



She looked up, “Really?” She was incredulous.



“Never.”



She crawled back up to me and lay next to me on her side. “I don’t think we hang out with the same people.”



“Probably not, but I really like you.”



“I like you too.”



We laid there in silence for a while. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Will you trust me for a second?”



“Okay.”



“Turn away from me.”



I flipped over. She was now behind me.



She put her tongue in my ear and then whispered, “this is what I was trying to do.”



She then placed her finger on the outside of my asshole and slowly pressed against it and massaged around it. At first, I didn’t like it at all.



“I need you to relax,” she whispered.



I took a deep breath and let it out. I laid there and tried to have an open mind. It took awhile, but I noticed that my dick was slowly coming back to life.



“There you go she whispered. Now lay on your belly.”



I delicately laid on my belly being careful with my erection.



I felt her climb on me and then felt what was unmistakably a mouth and tongue around my anus. She licked the hole for a while, and it was actually starting to feel pretty good. Then she started probing inside my ass with her tongue.



I accidentally groaned.



“There you go,” he said. She repositioned herself. “Stay relaxed now.” I then felt her enter my ass with two fingers, and I clenched up again. “RELAX!” she commanded. I tried to comply.



She lifted up my top leg, and sat upright behind me and slowly inserted the fingers again. Her finger pads were pointed down and towards my dick, but her inside me, and she started massaging down in slow deep strokes. With her other hand, she grabbed my dick and slowly stroked it.



Her fingers inside my ass were pressing harder now, and I felt something building up.



“There you go. Relax and let it happen.”



She pressed harder and harder and slowly massaged my insides and I just released. I came out of my dick, but it was nothing like orgasming from jerking off. It felt great and I felt so relaxed, like some kind of stress I had carried my whole life had finally been released. I moaned and moaned, and she crawled back up to me and just held me.



I didn’t realize it for a second, but I was actually crying. I think it was the greatest orgasm I had ever had.



She pulled the covers over us and held me. I felt guilty about not getting her off, but I didn’t know if I had the energy. I turned back towards her and tried to go down on her.



“No. It’s okay. Just lie here and hold me.”



Initially, I had thought we were going to have rough athletic and crazy sex, but even though we ended up stretching me beyond my comfort zone, it was one of the most intimate and meaningful sexual experiences I had ever had. It took a lot of trust to let her do that to me, and we became a lot closer by that experience.



Up to that point, sex was just a really fun activity I participated in, but Kara taught me that it can be so much more.

All the characters in this story are over 18. Yes, they meet in class, but it is a college class. The female protagonist is 22, and the male is 27.





Oh, My Sweet Rapture



He sat behind me in my sophomore poetry class. It made it hard to write, or think clearly about the words of others that I was listening to. I couldn’t help but be aware of his presence. Sometimes I thought I could feel his body heat. I knew I could feel him looking at my back.



I’d pull my hair to the side, sometimes, when I felt him looking at me. As if I were doing it absently, though it was really such a secret, sensual gesture. My neck is quite long, and very pale, and I knew that he could see the small sweet mole I had beneath my right ear. The first time, I heard him suck in a breath, so softly, and I knew he had seen it. I knew he knew that I had showed it to him. …yes, this is how I flirt. Indecent mole exposure.



All in all, I’m definitely not one of the “sexy girls” in the class. I’m tall, and wear my dark hair in blunt bangs that come right to the tops of my buddy holly glasses. I wear eyeliner sometimes, but never lipstick. I prefer it when boys don’t stare at me. But he watched me. I could feel him watching me. He wore glasses as well, but not constantly, and behind them, his eyes burned with a heat, and a passion. His voice would get thicker as he read his poetry, and I could feel him staring at my back.



We had said not more than a few words to eachother. We realized we both had a penchant for Chuck Taylors. I complimented his scarf, and once, his Alkaline Trio t-shirt. He called me out on a Dr. Horrible quote that I worked into a poem. Did I mention that smart boys are crazy hot?



He wore that weird scruffy face-hair that emo boys seem to have such a penchant for, and a ring graced the side of his bottom lip. Which, I should mention, was also pretty hot. Did I mention that emo boys are damn sexy?



One day I was out having a cigarette before class. He strolled up, a camel wide hanging from his fingers, smoke curling up his tattooed arm. I suddenly felt very naked in my crazy-old modest mouse tshirt. I’m pretty sure you can see my bra through it. “So, what random internet musical are you going to plagiarize today?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.



“None.” I shot back. “I was planning on working in a few choice lines from Debbie Does Dallas.”



He gave me a strange look and walked away.



“Way to go.” I hissed to myself. My whole face was flushed when I went in. I kept my head down as I walked past him, thankful for my hair, my glasses, everything I had to hide behind.



I couldn’t focus. I kept reliving the horrible moment when I brought up a terrible old porno to my crush in my college poetry class. Who DOES that?! I couldn’t even function when the teacher instructed us to begin a free-write. I stared at the paper in front of me that I’d written the phrase “Debbie Does Dallas” on, beneath my name and the class name.



“Okay, who wants to read?” My teacher spoke in her weird not-quite-english voice, which sounded like a put-upon Professor Sprout from Harry Potter.



“I would.” His voice seemed closer behind me than I expected, and I jumped.



“Oh, fabulous!” Prof. Sprout clapped her hands together, and I wanted to hit her in her inanity that detracted from the intensity of the voice behind me.



He cleared his throat, and there was a nervousness about him as he rustled his paper.



“I see a secret

No one knows I see it

Except her”



He cleared his throat again, and I felt my blood pressure rising in my ears. I reached my hand back, smoothing my hair unconsciously, wondering if he was talking about me.



“She is a secret

It lives inside her

But I see it like a mark upon her flesh

Like an angel kiss”



I slowly turned, and his eyes were staring directly into mine. I gasped, and it was as though the entire room faded around us. It was his eyes. His lips. His voice. And my body, responding helplessly to his words.



“Like I could drink the dregs of her mind

When I see her secrets

She knows I see them

She shows me her pale truth

And I long to see more

I long to touch her

To feel the pale trembling

I long to find each mark

Press against her-

An angelic kiss

Like I could drink the dregs of her soul

With the heat of my tongue”



He set the paper down, and the whole class was silent, staring at him. Staring at US. I still couldn’t see them. I wanted to kiss him. I had been watching his lips, as they moved, and I wanted to kiss him.



“Oh… well… I think we could all probably use a five minute break after all that!” Sprout’s voice invaded, invariably cooling the heat between my thighs. Obviously, the latent sensuality of his poem had made her uncomfortable, and she quickly grabbed a pack of menthols out of her purse and headed for the door.



The rest of the class followed her, and I blushed as I heard them laughing, aware for the first time of anything other than him.



“Do you want to come into the Media Room with me?” He asked. “I have keys.”



“Look, if you think, just because I mentioned some stupid porno that I want to make one-”



“No, no!” He cut me off, picking up his hat and his backpack. “I’m taking today off. Will you take today off with me? I want to know you. But I want to know ALL of you. I want to know every beauty mark, every scar.” He pushed my hair back behind my ear, and all I could do was stare at him. His skin had faint freckles, and his hair was so dark against it.



I followed him down the hall, and into the media room. The music he put on was nothing I had ever heard, but somehow I instantly loved it. His hands were on my body, and mine were on his. I was unbuttoning his shirt before he had made any gesture to remove my clothing, and I think he had already known how his poem had affected me.



Our lips met, and his mouth was soft and wet, drawing me in, his tongue working against mine. It was an electric kiss. It pushed through my body, and I felt the sudden rush of heat between my thighs.



Just as quickly, as if it weren’t our first kiss, as if we both knew how many times we had both imagined it, his hands were peeling my modest mouse t-shirt off, being so gentle, a man whose fingers knew well the value of a long worn and much-loved band shirt.



Then he was sucking on my nipples, running his hands over my back, and I was arching, whimpering, and soon he was between my legs, unbuttoning the buttons of my jeans, pushing me back into a rolling desk chair, and kneeling on the floor as he pulled my jeans down my narrow hips. He pushed my thighs apart, and moaned lowly.



A moment of rationality jarred me a bit. “I… I don’t know you…”



“Yes you do.” He whispered, his eyes drinking in the fine dark hair that I kept trimmed so closely. He spread my lips, and ran his fingers over my labia. “You know me. You’ve listened to my poetry for months. You know the music I listen to. You might not know everything about me, but you know me.”



“I… I…” I moaned, leaning my head back. My arguments were fleeing my mind quickly as he pushed his fingers in.



“You know me… and I know you.” He was still whispering, but his voice was thick, and heavy, like when he was reading. Like when he was reading to me. He licked my inner thigh, as he twisted his fingers inside me. As he pushed them deeper. He moaned. “You have a beautiful pussy.” He licked my hot wet pussy, and kept pushing.



“Oh god…”I whimpered. It had been too long, since I’d felt a boys mouth kiss me there.



He was kissing my clit now, passionately, working his tongue against it, and working his fingers in and out of me. The inevitable feeling began twisting low in my stomach, and my thighs started to tremble.



I tried to fight the orgasm, the intensity that was hanging above me scared me, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the words of the song. …that didn’t help.



“Gideon is in the drawer…

Clothes scattered on the floor

She’s arching her back,

She screams for more”



My chances of fighting were completely lost, the music felt like it was lifting me off the floor, and my legs were wrapping around his back. He pulled back, rubbing my clit with his thumb, and I looked down at him. His eyes locked with mine. They were as intense as the rest of him, hazel with flecks of honey brown and green. I reached down for him, pulling him up with my hands and my feet together. His lips were wet with moisture, parted already for me, and my mouth captured his.



He lowered me gently to the floor, where his wool jacket was already spread out for me. Sweetly, carefully, he removed my glasses, and folded them, before setting them on a desk. He returned to me, and my legs opened for him easily. He knelt above me for a moment, his eyes taking me in.



A slightly smile played around his lips, and I blushed. “I…” an apology on the tip of my tongue, or an explanation, of how this could have happened. How we’d spoke probably less than 500 words to each other, and now I was laying naked on the floor of the media room before him. But there was no explanation known to me.



“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, breaking into a full smile, and my feet, pale white and thin, at the end of legs of much the same description, found themselves running up the backs of his thighs to push together behind his back.



“I want you inside me.” I murmured, as he lowered down, the hard head of him pressing against the lips of my wet pussy.



I tightened my legs around his back, moaning as I felt him enter me. I stretched around him, and my back arched. He held himself up on his hands, his eyes were hooded, not quite closed, still watching my face; watching my pleasure.



I was whimpering, grinding my hips, his weight pressed down on me and I loved the feel of being pinned beneath him. He lowered his face to mine, whispered softly in my ear, “you’re my secret.” I sobbed softly as he kissed my neck, my jaw, my body trembling, my orgasm overtaking me.



My hands fluttered over his back, he pushed deep into me as he felt me clutching around him, my hands found their place buried in his hair, I pressed my cheek to his, and he was moaning with me. Our gasps, our soft cries, kept rising with the music.



“We’ve gone too far…

Just one last kiss.

Just one last touch…”



The lyrics seeped into my head, and I felt the idea of a final kiss, a final touch, almost making me afraid, afraid of this EVER ending, afraid of this pleasure ever leaving, of his body ever parting from mine. “Never stop.” I whimpered, my voice cracking as if I were at the point of tears, and my breath continued hitching like sobs in my throat.



“Never.” He gasped back. His mouth hung open, and I loved the look of his face, lost in pleasure. Our bodies moved slowly but passionately together, I felt his body trembling in rhythm with mine, and our mouths met, wet and desperate for eachother. His tongue swirled against mine as he thrust into me, his pubic bone pressing against my clit as we moved together, my feet sliding over his back and down to his ass, my hips rising to meet each thrust.



“This feels so good.

Just barely moving.

The tension building.

Our bodies working.”



Our eyes met again as he shoved deeply into me, and I cried out, my back arching. My body began twisting and thrusting uncontrollably as a second orgasm overtook me. His thrusts came faster and harder, and I bucked my hips against him, arching up to him, and he buried his face in my breasts, sucking hard on my nipples, and I felt myself gushing unexpectedly, shuddering and screaming as he rode me through the violent climax. He held my hips tightly to him, and I heard him moaning, as my vision blurred further, and I could still hear someone in the distance, screaming, and I felt a vague awareness it was me.



“I hear Jesus,

And the Angels singing

Hallelujah…”



He held me closely to him as I shook and shuddered. “Oh my god,” I heard him gasping, and I felt the sudden swelling of him, the sudden burst of wetness as he reached his own climax, pressing his forehead to mine, his lips to mine. I kissed and sucked at his lips. We shuddered together, and then fell apart, our skin wet with sweat, our legs entwined.



“Oh my god.” He gasped again. He was breathing heavily and shaking, my legs trembled against his, as we stared at eachother, both somewhat stunned.



“Hi.” Was the brilliant commentary that came out of my mouth, and he raised an eyebrow at me.



“Hi.”



“Umm.” Was my remarkably clever follow-up. “Coffee?” My next feat of spectacular wit.



“Cigarette?” Was his mind-blowing response.



“Indeed.” We both laughed, at our complete lack of ability to venture into more than one-word sentences.



It was in shyness we dressed, which seemed ironic after our intimacy. He kissed me gently as he passed me my glasses and a cigarette.



Skipping classes for the rest of the day was an unspoken agreement, and we held hands as we walked to the nearest coffee shop to the campus.

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