Keith kissed her
again. He slid his hand over her bum, underneath the waistband of her
jeans. They were warm against her
flesh. He squeezed gently. His lips and tongue plundered her mouth. He kissed his way down her neck to the hollow
between her shoulder bones, pulling the neck of her t-shirt down to reach
it. He lifted her t-shirt off her head,
and undid her bra. He kissed her breasts
softly and she felt them tighten as wires of lust and pleasure stretched to her
groin.
Her father had
only ever bothered to do this the first few times he had sex with her. Before he’d started to hit her. She hadn’t known how good it could be.
He undid the
button on her jeans and pulled the zip down.
He lent in to kiss her neck, then knelt to kiss her stomach and her hips
just above the line of her jeans waist.
Then he tugged her jeans down.
They puddled round her feet. His
tongue traced a charged trail down from her breasts to the top of her panties.
He kissed her just above the elastic.
He rose and tried
to tug her into the bedroom. “Just a
minute!” she whispered, and kicked off her shoes before stepping out of her
jeans.
The bed was unmade
and next to it on the carpet were spread discarded undies and t-shirts and
socks. It didn’t bother her.
Keith kept hold of
her hand. They kissed again as they sat
on the edge of the bed. For the first
time she returned his kisses, copying what he did, knowing no other example.
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