Regrets? I've had a few...

He'd been on at me for weeks to let him take me dancing. He asked me himself, he passed messages via my friends, he even left a note on my locker between classes, all of them promising me the sort of good time that few girls could ever resist - fine music, pricey drinks and the opportunity to wear the sort of outfit that the average night out in town never allows. So finally I said yes. I admire persistence - especially when it's cute.

He picked me up on his parents' car - that was a good start; his own was a rattling death trap. And he cleaned up nicely as well. His name... oh shit, have I really forgotten his name? Brad, I think. Or Brent. Let's call him Brent. He was tall, buff, muscled without being over-done. I'd watched him at football practise; he was fast, he moved well... oh, and he had the brightest eyes I'd ever seen.

Where was he taking me? A new club that had just opened in town. Except we got there and it hadn't quite opened.. he'd got his calendar muddled; we were seven days early. Never mind. There's a place on the edge of the city limits, his elder sister and her boyfriend went there... three years ago. It was closed now. Sheee-it. Okay, how about...

"But that's practically in Abilene!"

"That's okay, it won't take long." We got onto the highway and headed south... and that place was closed as well, for redecoration.

Now what?

Brent (or was it Brad? This is awful) got out of the car. I thought he was going to put a brick through the darkened club window, he looked so mad. And then I realized he wasn't mad, he was sad. He'd been looking forward to this for who knows how long, first plucking up the nerve to ask, then having to deal with my evasions... for the first (and, possibly, only) occasion in my long career as a Teenaged Tease, I regretted not having simply said yes when he asked me the first time.

I got out of the car and walked around to where he was standing, still staring at the closed venue; put an arm around his waist and wondered what to say. "Oh well, at least we're together" sounded weak, but it really was the best I could manage, and when he turned to face me... and kiss me of course... I had to press my body tight up against his and stand on tiptoe simply to reach his lips.

Which is when I felt... it. The hardness between his legs that seemed to go on forever. Other guys, there was a beginning, there was an end and there was awarmth. Brent had a blazing hot rod that ran halfway up his torso, and as I pressed harder against him, an answering twitch sent shivers through my whole body.

I looked around. The parking lot was deserted; so was the side road we'd turned off. A few moving lights in the distance marked out the highway but the way this place was situated, we'd see anyone coming towards us long before they saw us.

We kissed and my hand dipped, stroking his cock through his t-shirt and jeans, then unbuckling his belt and releasing him, to grasp him with the savage enthusiasm of a girl who thinks she has more experience and expertise than she has; while he responded with the unself-conscious moans of a guy who's simply grateful to have someone touch his cock to begin with.

He came fast... too fast... and I didn't know what to do so I shook my hand to flick the cum off onto the gound, then wiped the rest on his T-shirt, while he panted grateful platitudes in my ear. Then we kissed some more, got back into the car and he dropped me off at home before midnight. And it was only once I was tucked up in bed, running over the events of the evening in my mind, that I cursed the maddened excitement that consumed me the moment I felt that magnificent cock in my hand.

Why didn't I slow down, why didn't I look at it? And why didn't I fall to my knees on that dusty parking lot concrete, and pop him into my mouth, to suck that cum right out of his balls instead of smearing it over half his outfit?

I know I thought of it, as my hand pulled his flesh; imagined how good it would feel, that length in my throat. And when he came and it dripped from my fingers, the flash of imagination, licking them clean with my tongue. But I didn't because... well I didn't.

And although I would, a few days later, get the chance to do it properly... I didn't on that occasion either because... because it felt like he was expecting it; because the first time we dated, he wanted me, but the next time he asked, he wanted the hand that had jerked him off in the dark. I wanted the spontaneity, the lust, the fury of discovery and delight that I should have grabbed the first time we were together, not the constant wheedling from a bratty jock, reminding me "but baby, you did it before...."

I tolerated his hand pulling mine to his bulge three times before I finally grabbed my purse and stomped out of the bar. Afterwards, I heard he promptly went down to the dancefloor, pulled a girl twice my size and disappeared into the night without a second thought. I went home and watched PBS. So I guess we were both happy....