[fiction] The Day She turned Eighteen

She turned 18 today. It was a day she had been looking forward to, although adulthood had beckoned her for a long time. Age was just a number, she had started to think like an adult long before her time; girls matured faster than boys, they said, after all. And yet, 18 was a number she wanted to achieve, desperately.

She had planned this day a month in advance. The luncheon date had been lined up a few days back, at a coffee shop near her college. She had seen him just once, a couple of weeks back, in her home. She knew he was the one right away, he looked better than the rest. Looks mattered to her; she was attractive, she didn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t. She had called him up, finding his number wasn’t tough; all she had to do was look it up in her mother’s cellphone. She had asked him to see her for lunch, he had readily agreed. She didn’t feel the need to tell him to be on time, she knew he would be there before time.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she smiled. Her outfit for the date had been chosen after much deliberation. The sleeveless white dress clung to her body; it fell sublimely over her curves. Underneath, she decided to go for low-cut panties, and a matching black brassiere. She looked at herself in the mirror, she frowned. The outline of her black bra was quite prominent under her white dress. It looked slutty. She undressed, put on white undergarments under her white dress and looked at herself in the mirror again. it looked too plain now, not enough oomph. When she finally stepped out of her house, her light purple undergarments were visible under her white dress, but only to those who looked deliberately.

As she parked her car outside the coffee shop, she sighed and tried to collect herself. Her emotions were a mess. Her heart felt heavy under her heaving breasts, there was a tingling in her loins that was sending shivers through her body. She could see him sitting by the window. She didn’t know much about him, he appeared to be in his early 40s. She was certain he was married; she hoped he was decent and nice.

A big smile lit up his face as he saw her walk towards him. They greeted each other, exchanged an awkward handshake, she sat down across him.

“I didn’t know you knew me by name.” He was clearly excited. He fumbled with his phone, failing at appearing confident in front of the most beautiful girl he had ever shared a coffee shop table with.

“I had heard my mom call you by your name the other day,” she said, appearing more relaxed than she felt.

“Oh, okay,” he said. He looked around himself, the coffee shop didn’t have many patrons at that time of the day, which was just the way he would have liked it. He wasn’t too keen on being seen.

She was thinking about the same thing. Maybe it had been a mistake to meet near her college, but then, she didn’t intend to spend much time in the coffee shop anyway.

“Would you like to order something?” he asked, breaking the momentary silence.

They ordered a couple of sandwiches and coffee. “You must be wondering why I asked you to meet me here.” It was more of a statement, than a question. He nodded his assent.

She told him why. She told him what she wanted to do, why she wanted to do it. She answered his bewildered questions. When there was nothing else left to question, he knew he had to ask this: “Are you a virgin?”

“Yes, I am,” came her prompt reply.

He smiled inwardly, her reply was expected but it felt to good to hear nonetheless. “So, how do we go about doing this, then?” he asked.

“We could go to a hotel,” she replied, “you would know better than me.”

“Okay, let’s go the Palm Grove on the highway…not many people will know us there.”

She liked that idea. They didn’t talk much on the drive to the hotel. She was thinking about her mother, what she would feel if she knew where her daughter was. He thought about his wife for a moment, like he always did. But as always, he was so excited about what lay ahead for him, his feelings for his wife didn’t bother him. There was no guilt in either one of them.

The hotel room was commodious, nothing extravagant, but adequate. The bed was big; the other furniture didn’t matter to them. As he closed the door and locked the room, she waited for him to make the first move.

She sat down on the bed; he made himself comfortable in a chair. He was now confident; he had been in this situation many times before. He knew what to do, the fact that the girl before him was seemingly nervous added to his excitement. He knew he would be in command of her the way he had never been in command of any one before.

“Would you like me to undress you? Or you…” he asked.

“I’ll undress myself,” she smiled. The irony of how long it had taken her to dress up struck her when her dress fell down around her ankles in one big heap. Her bra followed her dress, as he got up from the chair and approached her. She shivered as he ran his hands over her sides and cupped her tender breasts, her nipples hardening under his palms. She closed her eyes as he became the first man to touch her young body.

He got rid of his shirt and engulfed her in his arms. In classic romantic movie style, he lifted her chin up with one hand, while the other hand pressed her closely into him. He looked down at her, she looked up at him. Her arms hung loosely by her side for a moment, but they found his strong shoulders as their lips met. She opened her mouth to let his warm tongue in, allowing her mind to lose itself in what was the first kiss of her young life.

She didn’t realise that one of his hands had left her body; she didn’t notice the rustling of clothes as he stepped out of his pants. It was only when she felt something hard against her navel that she realized he was now naked. She had never seen a man’s member before; she broke the kiss and looked down at it. It was beautiful. It was thick, and erect. She took it in her hand, and he let out an audible gasp.

He looked at her as they sat down on the edge of the bed. He couldn’t believe that such a gorgeous, young woman was running her hands over the length of his throbbing manhood. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

She pumped his member, she didn’t know how, but it came naturally to her. She held it the base with one hand, and ran her other hand up and down its length. She felt something wet on her hand, she stopped and looked at its wet head. She looked at him, and licked his wetness off her hands. That was all he needed to make his excitement grow to the point of no return. It took only three more strokes of her hand for him to let go.

She went into the bathroom to clean him off her hands and arms, as he recovered on the bed. She went back and laid down next to him. He removed her panties and touched the most private part of her. Her body jerked, her legs squeezed his hand between them, as if not wanting it to ever leave. She threw her head back as his finger found its way into her. The rest of the afternoon passed away in a wondrously erotic haze.

Later, when they were driving back to the coffee shop, she asked him how she’d been.

“The best I’ve ever been with,” he replied, looking over at her and meaning every word of it.

“Even better than my mother?” she asked.

It was a question he hadn’t anticipated. Until then, there had been no mention of the times he had been with her mother. He thought about her question and realized he didn’t need to lie. She was definitely better than her mother, how could she not be? She was young, he was her first, and he intended to have her for himself.

“No comparison, at all.”

When they reached the coffee shop, he handed her a wad of 1,000 rupee notes. “Thanks,” she said. “You are worth a lot more,” he replied.

Before she got out of the car, she asked him: “Will I be seeing you at my home?”

“No,” he replied. “I won’t be coming to your mother anymore, but I’ll see you again, like this…a lot more.”

“Call me,” she said, content. There was a big smile on her face as she walked to her car.

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4 thoughts on “[fiction] The Day She turned Eighteen

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