Bad Penny Ch. 01

Her neck and hair smelled spicy and warm, and I moved my nose up over her ear to whisper to her, “I am getting a little buzz, are you?”

She nodded and her body for a moment melted against mine as she sat on my lap, and her face came round to let her lips meet mine. The kiss was slow and almost timid, as she took on board the new sensations that the hash laced cake had opened up to her.

It was her first time. She had never been able to smoke, and had always been scared of drugs, but tonight she had eaten the dessert before she knew what was in it. I had been furious to start with, since I had also taken a slice, and was supposed to be driving us home, but I realised it was a genuine mistake. Mike had been given the cake for the party that was to be held the following night, and Tara had not known about it when she gave us supper after we had finished helping her with the decorations. It was only when Mike came in and found Penny and Tara half way through their second slice each that we found out.

Penny had been a bit freaked, but I talked her round, and calmed her down, and cradled her in my arms and told her what to expect. I told her it would be warm and feel like floating, and that there was nothing to be scared of, and did my best to be positive, since I know what fear and a bad atmosphere can do. Of course Mike had apologised and said we should stay over, and then decided he might as well join us, since everyone else was clearly starting to get mellow. He dimmed the lights and put on some gentle music, sat down beside Tara, and took a huge bite from the remains of her second helping. Penny had passed him the remains of hers, and started to relax, since there was no obvious sign that anyone was about to go mad with an axe.

Although I had been an occasional user, along with Mike, since school days, my girlfriend Penny was brought up pretty strictly in a religious family (half French, half Irish, all Catholic). So she was dead against drugs, although she would take a glass of wine or beer. In fact she was pretty much against everything fun, at least to start with, as sin was always to be avoided. When we started dating in our teens holding hands and fairly tame kissing was really pushing the envelope. It took a very long time before we finally ‘made love’ as she coyly put it. I hadn’t minded too much. Sure I was horny as any boy, but she was my first real girlfriend, and I didn’t know what to expect. I had a sister, and was brought up respect women and that anything other than “yes” meant “no”. So it took months of increasing excitement and daring to be allowed to put hands inside her blouse, and then weeks more to loosen her bra, and months more to actually get her buttons undone so that I could see what I was doing. Even though she was cautious about trying new things, each new experience was eagerly adopted once she found out that it was enjoyable, and that lightning did not strike. I got to suck her nipples the second time I unbuttoned her blouse. The next time we got a chance to have some privacy she pulled off her top to reveal that she had no bra on, and instantly pressed her left breast to my mouth. That was the first time she came, rubbing herself against my thigh as I worked on her breasts and neck and earlobes with my tongue and fingers. After that she started to wear jeans a lot more, and after a while of riding my thigh, she began to let me use my hand to rub her cloth covered crotch until she quivered.

Six months later spring arrived and she was wearing a skirt and tights. With summer the tights went, and only thin cotton was between my fingers and her soft wet flesh. Later in June I had her in a bikini, (or rather only half of one) which barely covered anything, but it was September before I slipped a finger inside the soft cotton of her sensible underwear to stroke her clit, and another month until she allowed me to slip them off altogether.

She had gradually become more daring with my body as well. The day when she had worn the bikini I had been in skimpy swim shorts, and as she rocked on top of me I had my first orgasm with her. Before that she had always backed off when I started to get too excited – worried that I might get carried away, and that she might get pregnant (Ignorance and fear from lack of sex education goes a long way). She was so surprised and shocked when I came that she wouldn’t even kiss me again for the rest of the day. But then she said to me that it was only fair, since I had been making her come for a year, that she should do the same for me. It all sounds ridiculous now, but we were pretty innocent, and the long slow discovery of our bodies and the pleasures of the flesh was wonderfully exciting. It made us both appreciate the erotic potential of earlobes, and fingers, and clothing and teasing, and as we went on we became more adventurous without thinking about it being adventurous.

So it was half a year more before she put her hand inside my underwear, and another month after that before she saw me naked. I ‘accidentally’ was still in the shower when she arrived at my house one afternoon, and when horsing around my towel ‘accidentally’ became undone. She had frozen for a moment as I held her, me naked, she still fully clothed, and then she kissed me deeply as she ran her hands over my back and bottom, and down my thighs, and round to take me in her hand. We had no names for those parts then. Of course we knew what they were called, but the words so commonly used seemed too harsh and crude, or too silly, to use. They were simply “me” or “there” or “it”.

Of course once she had seen me undressed there was no problem in the future about her stripping me off, fully or partially, and she had been fully unclothed on a number of occasions before then. She kept her underwear on that afternoon, but the following week we spent a glorious couple of hours lying next to each other, and on top and underneath and entwined in full nakedness, revelling in the touch of skin. It was then that I first slipped a finger inside her, and a week later I first kissed her ‘there’. That was a revelation. I had kissed her stomach and thighs, and even as far as the soft hair on her generous pubic mound (the Mount of Venus as the Victorians called it, which we adopted as our own coy terminology) but she had always subtly moved away from me getting any closer, but in the midst of orgasm with my finger inside her and another on her clitoris, she was too distracted to stop me from swapping my fingers for lips, and she came again in delighted horror as she realised what I was doing. Turned out she was worried that she would taste bad. I told her she tasted wonderful, like buttered lobster. She laughed, eventually. After that it became part of our language again, and she would shyly ask me if I would like some butter. Once it became clear that I was more than happy and had no fear of dairy products, it also became a regular thing for us. In a spirit of fairness about a month later she “got me back”. I remember that when she first kissed me ‘there’ it was like someone putting a shard of flaming ice through my brain, and I came in moments. Of course she stopped short of letting me come in her mouth for a long time, but practically every time we met for years after she made time to do suck me to orgasm if we could not do anything more.

In time she got used to letting me kiss ‘her’ (more than that, she demanded it) and when she had got used to kissing ‘me’ we naturally got into a 69 position. Sometimes she was on top, sometimes me. It was once when I was on her, and she was near orgasm as I licked and fingered her (two fingers by then) that I felt my balls tighten and I knew I was going to come. Normally I would have pulled away or called to her that I was ‘near’ so that she could move her mouth and I would come over her stomach or breasts, but this time I just pushed deeper into her mouth and sucked her clitoris. She responded by sucking me even harder, and I my orgasm was immense. She made some protesting noises, for a moment, as it had shocked her a little, but not much. Afterwards she said that it was alright, that she had been thinking about doing it for some time, and that she liked the taste. The next time she was sucking me I tried to warn her that I was about to come, and she looked up at me and nodded, as she sucked me deeper and kept her hand pumping me into her mouth.

All of that had been unthinkable when we first met, as unthinkable as full intercourse. Of course by the time we were regularly getting undressed in bed together (or in the car, on the beach, in the living room, the shower, the kitchen…) we were both thinking about that next move as well. It had been close on a few occasions, me naked on top of her, or her riding on me, sliding herself back and forward along my shaft. It would have been easy for me to “accidentally” push inside her, but I wanted her to make the decision, and her to be comfortable with it. I wanted her to want to do it, and never to feel that she had been forced or pressured into it. Her fear of pregnancy was now uppermost as a reason not to, although fear of God was still in there, and of course contraception was a sin to be avoided even more than fornication. Medical science intervened in a sort of fortuitous way. Penny began having migraines associated with hormonal changes and severe PMS. Her doctor recommended she go on the pill for a couple of months to see if it evened out her mood swings and stopped the headaches, which were crippling her for a week in every month. The change was miraculous. And suddenly the fears of pregnancy could be discounted, and it was only a matter of time before passion overcame superstition.

It was the day after my 20th birthday, a Saturday. We had the whole day together, a wonderful lunch, a walk in park and the museum, a late afternoon trip to the cinema, dinner, and then back to her place. That was when I got my present. It was wrapped in pearl and silver silk suspenders, bra and French knickers with black stockings and was carrying a bottle of champagne.