Four Erotic Tales Read Online Free PDF Page A

deep breath, nodded at myself in the mirror, and stumbled back down the hall to Bridget’s room.
    The door was open a crack, though I was sure I’d closed it. Not thinking much of it, I pushed in, ready to give Bridget a quick kiss on the cheek and say goodnight — but I never got that far.
    Bridget — shy, modest, good-Catholic-girl Bridget — stood at the far side of the room. Naked. Nude.
    Her clothing was piled, neatly folded on the desk behind her.
    Pale and freckled from head to toe, gaze downcast, Bridget was standing with her hands behind her as if she didn’t know what to do with them, as if she were trying to stop herself from covering her body with them, and all I could think was that she looked like the Venus de Milo, and despite my intentions I began lurching toward her. “Uh. Bridget. Wow.”
    She gave me a wary, fierce smile and stood straighter, her breasts lifting to meet my searching hands. We both hissed as my fingers closed around them, and then groaned as my fingers brought her wide pink nipples to attention.
    We kissed, and I reached around with one hand to pull her close, caressing down her smooth back onto the round, downy bum, even as the other continued to tease a nipple. Her breath caught. Her trembling hand ran timidly up the front of my jeans.
    I wish that I could say that there was in that moment a part of my brain that was fighting the undertow, some part of my conscience that was shouting No, stop, we weren’t going to do this, remember? But no — I was a nineteen-year-old who had just seen his girlfriend naked for the first time, who hadn’t ever been with a naked women who didn’t expect him to fuck her and fuck her good — to hell with ravishing her, as Tony had put it. Walking us over to Bridget’s bed (I remembered not to go to Kathy’s this time) I lowered her to the mattress.
    Taking in the sight of her nearly gave me a heart attack. Dana was fair-skinned, but Bridget was so pale that her skin seemed to glow, her freckles seeming to stand out in bas-relief. Her breasts, however, were pink where I had caressed them; I imagined her ass that same rosy color and any resolve I might have had was forgotten completely. I kissed her, running fingertips lightly from her ear to her breast, then down her ribs and across her belly, riffling her pubic hair, and — with my fingers barely touching her — stroking first down the length of her labia, and then back up. I felt her begin to flower open, and she gave a deep groan, pushing her pelvis up into my hand.
    Stroking her tenderly, I leaned up and gazed at her. Bridget’s eyes were closed, and her lips were chapped from kissing. As I ran my fingers up and down the length of her and felt her moisten beneath my hand, I leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “I want to eat you, Bridget. I want to make you come with my mouth.”
    She groaned again, even deeper this time, the sound rumbling against my hand. I circled her small, hard clit with my thumb, and goose pimples broke out all over her body.
    I took that for a yes.
    I kissed my way down her neck, working from freckle to freckle, along her collarbone and down onto her breast. When I licked at her areola, Bridget gasped. When I sucked her nipple into my mouth, she let out low, deep “ Ken! ” and squeezed her thighs around my searching fingers.
    I worked my way, grinning, over to the other nipple, not wanting to leave it feeling jealous. While Bridget’s reaction was not as extreme, it was just as gratifying.
    Trying to keep myself moving slowly — trying to keep myself breathing and her breathless — I resumed my pilgrimage from freckle to freckle down the full curve of her breast, onto her ribs. I dipped my tongue into her navel and she squealed, arching up to meet me.
    Pulling at her pubes gently — a bit sad that my crotch was now past her foot, and so I was no longer sliding down her leg — I glanced back up her body. I’d always laughed about my mom’s romance