Eighteen Ch. 01

I woke up horny. And for the first time in my life, that was totally okay.

I wanted to lay there and enjoy the early morning sunlight. I also wanted to leap out of bed and dance around my room. I opted for a middle ground, slowly sliding the blanket off of my naked body and swinging my feet over the edge of the bed.

My breath nearly caught in my throat. It was today. Today was the day. My eighteenth birthday.

Today was the day I, Angie Coleman, was finally going to lose my virginity.

Oh, I'd plenty of opportunities to do it earlier. And I'd come so, so very close a few times. And I'd done everything a girl could do without going "all the way." But I'd never taken that final step.

Not until today.

Some thought I was a prude. But that wasn't it. Actually I was the horniest, dirtiest person I knew. My closest friends were fully aware of that. I'd tell them stories, dream up scenarios, and pretty soon I'd have them writhing around their own hands as they rubbed themselves to a furious orgasm. Sometimes I'd even help—however much I could help, without taking the ultimate step with them.

I couldn't have told you why I waited until my eighteenth birthday. Sure, it would have been illegal before then, but I didn't have a problem with that. I snuck alcohol every once in a while. I'd even stolen a pack of cigarettes from my mom once—they were disgusting, and I'd quickly stuck them back in her purse before she realized they were gone.

And it wasn't because I "cherished my virginity" or anything like that. The concept of virginity itself is sort of a crock. Like what, splitting a piece of skin inside yourself changes something about your personality? I'd say your first orgasm is a lot more formative, and I'd had plenty of those. More than plenty.

But I'd never let anyone else inside me—not with their cocks, and not with their fingers. For some reason, there was just something satisfying about holding off until I was fully, legitimately legal. Today I could do whatever I wanted, and no one could give me any grief for it.

Things had gotten even harder after I'd graduated high school. I was born in late June, which meant that when I graduated, I was still seventeen—not old enough to break my own rule yet. You don't know pain until you've gone to senior prom and your own graduation, both times with a gorgeous football jock on your arm, and been unable to take advantage of the meatstick between his legs because of the rules you set for yourself in your own head.

But now all the waiting was over. Now, I was free.

I stood from my bed and reached for the ceiling, stretching my naked body as high as it would go—which was pretty high. I'd be petite if I were short, but I shot up to five foot eight around the time I turned fifteen, and there I'd stuck. The tight, sore spots in my muscle smoothed themselves out as I stretched like a cat.

Or like a tigress, preparing herself for a kill.

I smiled.

Tossing on a robe, I made my way down the hall to my bathroom. It really was my bathroom—my parents had another one in their master bedroom, so no one else used mine unless we had guests over. The cool tile on my bare feet made me shiver up and down. Once the door was locked behind me, I shucked off the robe and cranked the shower handle. A gush of hot water cascading down. I let it heat up before I opened the door and let myself in.

The hot water felt incredibly good, and I barely kept myself from moaning. I couldn't be loud. My parents weren't up yet, but that could change at any second. It was one of the most frustrating things about living at home. Whenever I touched myself, working myself with fingers and palm to a white-hot frenzy, I couldn't make a sound while I did it. It was so unfair.

Speaking of which....

I slid my hand down my belly, brushing the tips of two fingers against my folds. I teased them gently up and down, brushing the hood of my clit and enjoying the shivers it sent through my limbs. I stopped the moan, but couldn't keep a soft sigh from escaping my mouth.

My left hand moved up to pinch down around my right nipple, rolling it around between my thumb and forefinger as my right hand continued to slide up and down, teasing the entrance to my cunt. I wouldn't push in. Not yet. Not until I was practically begging myself for it.

But that was coming fast. My tongue slid out of its own accord to slide over my lips. I stretched my right hand further, maximizing the long, supple length of my fingers. My middle finger brushed gently against my back door as my forefinger practically bent back in on itself to circle my swiftly-moistening hole while my thumb continued to prod at my clit, never giving it the full pressure it wanted.

Finally I slid my finger in. Just the tip. The tip I'd never let any of my boyfriends or girlfriends slid in, knowing they'd only want to go further.

My legs buckled and practically gave way as I clutched harder at my nipple, biting down on my tongue and willing myself not to scream. My fingertip played in and out at the entrance to my hole. I was practically there. A few more seconds.

Knock, knock.

The sound of knuckles rapping at the bathroom door jarred me from my bliss, and my hands slipped away from my body. I snatched the shampoo from the hanging shelf, squirting some into my hand as I turned away to hide my flushing cheeks.

"Um, I'm in here!" I shouted.

"Of course you are," came my dad's booming baritone voice through the door. "Who else would it be? I just wanted to let you know that you might want to hurry up. Your mom's got a special birthday breakfast ready for you, and you do not want to let this one get cold."

I sighed slowly, trying not to let my aggravation and extreme frustration come out in my voice. "Awesome! Tell her thanks, and that I'll be there in a minute."

"Will do." The soft clump of his footsteps retreated down the hall.

It was stupid of me to freak out. Of course the door was locked. I probably could have kept right on going, and he wouldn't have known. But the moment was gone. The shock had scared away the sweet vibrations building up in my core.

In a way, it was probably a good thing. Because if I could just manage to save myself until the end of the day, I'd be getting the real thing. Not just a quick rub-out in the shower.

I smiled as I spread the shampoo throughout my hair, already planning out the rest of my day.