The First of Ten

Their first time had been on the night of Ichigo’s sixteenth birthday, hidden away in his bedroom. She had turned sixteen a few months before, all the wisdom of the world in her as she suggested the idea. They would have to have sex eventually, now that they were old enough, and she wanted her first time to be with someone she trusted not to go blabbing everywhere about it. Ichigo had been surprised, but eventually capitulated. Tatsuki usually got what she wanted in the end, anyway.

Neither of them had much idea, bits and pieces gleaned from wild teenage stories and guilty glances at shared magazines, and the atmosphere was awkward; it was Ichigo’s first time seeing real breasts, and Tatsuki’s first time seeing an erect penis. Ichigo was above average, and achingly hard from their hesitant, slow foreplay of kisses and touches, and Tatsuki refused to lay back and be submissive about the whole thing. You have to take charge, she’d said, if you want to do something properly. They had agreed to get it over with quickly – a house with two younger sisters and a half-crazed father made privacy a precious commodity – and Tatsuki lowered herself onto him a tad too fast. She had bit her knuckle to muffle her cry of pain, and Ichigo had looked more concerned than she’d seen him be in years.

They were too far in to stop now, she decided, settling into his lap. Ichigo grunted, leaning back against the wall, hands gripping onto her hips. Clearly it was much better for him than it was for her right now. He felt strange inside her, but right, like this was supposed to happen. With a muttered threat of his impending doom if he ever told anybody about this, she had begun. They hit a slow pace, wincing and murmuring, Tatsuki leaning forward to accommodate him. He had leaned into her, hands roaming over her breasts, and she had suddenly started to enjoy herself. They were young, she could still grow, but it was comforting to know that a man could be interested in her small chest.

It had ended far too quickly, Ichigo hissing with the strain of holding back, and she had felt herself being lifted up into the air just in time. He had come hard, spurting out to hit her dangling legs and over his own chest, and climaxed for almost ten seconds before setting her down with a muted groan. Tatsuki had shifted back on his lap, wrinkling her nose at the semen sprayed onto her legs, and glanced up at him.

Next time, she said, she was going to come first. They were going to do this until they got it right. Ichigo had swallowed – was he SWEATING? – and nodded. The deal had been made.

~

Their second time had been at school the next day, during lunchtime. Ichigo had approached her, asking her to come with him. Tatsuki had silently thanked her lucky stars that they had been friends for so long that no-one immediately started speculating, and followed. She had been led to the women’s bathroom – a surprisingly considerate move on Ichigo’s part, all the blame would be put on him if they were caught – and the two of them quickly slipped into a stall.

Ichigo had explained that there was no time like the present, and he was fulfilling her offer from the other night. This time, she was going to come first. She had almost squeaked – really, since when did she SQUEAK, she was better than that – as he dropped onto his knees in front of her, lifting up her skirt. Muttering something about ‘not losing’, he’d tugged down her panties, all but attacking her pussy with his tongue.

She had to admit, he was much more skilled at this, melting her down into a writhing mess of pleasure within mere minutes. Her hands pressed hard into his head, tangling in his rough orange hair, heavy breathing and low whines urging him to continue. This was a lot better than last time, she decided, moaning as Ichigo’s fingers wound up and rubbed her clitoris. He’d have to do this more often. The feel of cold porcelain against her back had never been the same since. She always associated it with this.

Tatsuki lasted all of five minutes before climaxing, her cum splashing with a low moan against Ichigo’s face. She crested the feeling, riding it, for an entire minute before coming down, hands resting in Ichigo’s hair. He glanced up, gaze questioning. She had ruffled his hair, grinning. That was good, she had said. But I think it’s your turn next time.

Ichigo, understandably, was pleased by this.

~

The third time was immediately after this; years of training made hefting Ichigo up a simple task, depositing him on the toilet seat with little effort. Quickly dropping beneath his legs, Tatsuki freed his erection, already throbbing hard from attending to her own needs. It was bigger than Tatsuki recalled, not having been this close to it before, and her resolve wavered for a few moments before taking it in one hand and beginning to stroke it. His teeth had gritted, grunting angrily in typical Ichigo fashion, as soon as she began. Same as always.

The thought of putting something this size in her mouth was strange, even vaguely disgusting, but Tatsuki forged ahead; the only way to improve was to try, after all. She lightly sucked on the head, bobbing as best she could, feeling Ichigo’s hands mirror hers and tangle up in her short black hair.

He had been very encouraging – no surprises there – mumbling ‘it’s so good’ and ‘holy shit’ at intervals. Her name had never sounded better, she realised, than it did coming out of his mouth all throaty and filled with lust. She tried taking more in, pleasantly surprised at how simple it was. Ichigo stiffened beneath her as she stroked whatever she couldn’t take in. Fingers pushed at the back of her head as Ichigo pushed her further down, causing her eyes to widen; a death glare upwards brought him back to his senses. Tatsuki had made a mental note to watch his hands. Having her hair stroked was nice, but she had no intention of being pushed around.

He had come quickly, still worked up from having her moan and whine from his own attentions, spurting out into Tatsuki’s mouth without warning. She wasn’t too thrilled with the taste, but swallowed it, not wanting any telltale stains on her uniform. Ichigo had even had the manners to look guilty about the way her nose wrinkled at the bitterness.

Try again later, he asked. Try again later, she answered.

They were not giving up until they could do it right.

~

The fourth through ninth times had been snatched wherever they could, sneaking away to supply closets or in their respective rooms while nobody was looking. Slowly, they had improved; Ichigo used his admirable self-control to last longer, Tatsuki learned how to put on a condom and move around for the greatest effect, and climaxes were reached a lot more often. They had tried some different things – why Ichigo was so aroused by his cum on her face, she’d never understand. It STUNG. – but settled on ‘regular’ sex, learning the curves and sensitive spots on each other’s bodies. Tatsuki found herself smiling more. She even caught Ichigo smiling, too.

The tenth time, Tatsuki reflected, would be right now. She hummed to herself as she settled into his lap, Ichigo leaning forward to fondle and kiss her breasts. He really had a fascination with them. She let out a low whine as he laid kisses wherever he could reach; neck, shoulders, breasts, stomach, there was nowhere his lips hadn’t been. Clutching one hand in his hair, she yanked his head up, pressing a rough kiss to his lips. He was flushed already, erection pressing insistently into her hips. Her parents were gone for several days. This time, they could take their time.

Looping her arms loosely around his neck, Tatsuki gently lowered herself onto his waiting erection. They were doing it sitting up, as usual, their years of training easily granting them the necessary stamina. Ichigo let out a low groan, burying his face in her shoulder as he began to thrust. He was getting better, the practice beginning to show; only a few scant minutes after they started, Tatsuki could feel the jolts of pleasure start to envelop her, a moan of pleasure accompanying every strike of his erection inside her. She began to bite back her moans before she realised that they were alone, they didn’t have to keep quiet. Ichigo struck a sensitive spot inside her and she whined loudly, threading her fingers through his hair. It was so much better when she could shout. Ichigo groaned her name into her shoulder, his breath hot on her skin, and she started riding him faster, nails raking down his bare back. She could feel him hiss against her shoulder. Tatsuki smiled.

The two of them stayed like that, rocking together in fluid motion, their cries and yells mingling louder and louder as they revelled in the ecstasy of each other. Tatsuki could feel a warm flush rise to her face as she began to crest the edge of her climax, her voice turning into a low keen of need. Ichigo hoarsely shouted the same, and they came together, covered in sweat and tangled up in each other. The climax seemed to go on forever, Ichigo pulsing inside her tightly-clamped walls.

Slowly, they descended, panting into each other. Tatsuki could feel Ichigo’s rapidly fading length within her, and smiled as she pressed a kiss against their lips. She was fond of the guy, she realised, and having him around to do stuff like that could really be useful.

It was very good, she said. But we’ve never been the types to quit while we’re ahead. Ichigo had grinned back, his fingers tangled in her short black hair.

That, he said, was the truest thing he’d ever heard.