Message-ID: <19765eli$9902080429@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: ArtaDeux@aol.com Subject: {NEW}<*>Kristianna's Adventures II(11/?)(FM, teen, first) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: The following work contains sexually explicit language and may contain graphic descriptions of various sex acts. If you are not 18 years of age, or this sort of thing is prohibitted in your town, city, county, state, country, province, or erotica is offensive to you, STOP READING. I, the author give permission for this work to be posted and archived on ASSM and ASS, according to their standards and welcome reviewer's (Celestial and Annex) comments. This work may not be posted to any pay sites or reproduced for profit, other than for the author's own monetary benefit. If you have a personal comment, please feel free to e-mail me at 'Art aDeux@AOL.com'. I will only respond to nice people so don't bother e-mailing me if you're going to be a jerk. Copyright 1999 Art aDeux@AOL.com (Sasha) The Various Adventures of Young Kristianna II (AKA Forgettable Experiences, Valuable Lessons) Heading into my sophomore year in public school wasn't such a bad thing. My grades were still fair, despite health and home problems. At 13, I was obviously the youngest in my class yet again. The second youngest was one of the few black people that attended my school, a beautiful boy named Steve. He'd turned 14 in August though. We had a number of classes together. You know, all that grouping of like minds shit. Also known as "College Track" classes. He played sports, track and baseball. I had dropped out of track after freshman year. The thought of wearing sweatpants made me ill. I quit band as well, but for different reasons. Lila had pushed me into playing the clarinet. Now don't get me wrong, the clarinet is a lovely soulful instrument that the orchestra and bands of the world couldn't do without. And I was very talented at it. It's just that I didn't want to play it. I wanted to play the flute. And she wasn't going to let me. So, I decided that if I couldn't play what I wanted, I wouldn't play at all. So, I didn't. I kept making the payments on the thing though, and 'renting' my band uniform and such. Gave me extra pocket money and a measure of free time that I didn't have to fight for. I dated around, mostly guys that had graduated, or were from another school. I didn't need a repeat of the performance of last year. I had very few friends and the ones I did run with were quiet bookish types or sports. That brings me to Brian B. Brian was a junior, one year ahead of me. He was the sweetest, kindest guy you could wish to meet. Wrestling team, football, weight team. Okay grades. Kind of goofy. He looked a lot like the sporto guy from the movie "The Breakfast Club". Brian always kept after me to upgrade my lifestyle. I had started seeing a guy who dealt drugs. Not just pot, but the heavies. Coke, horse, pills. He was a boring lay, but it got me what I wanted. Alcohol and cocaine. The guy was generous to a fault and I just kept taking it, and stashing it for re- sale. He must have thought I was an endless pit or something. I broke it off the day his supplier came for him because of non-payment. I knew what was going down and had even told the guy what my now ex-boyfriend had been up to. (I got the account.) I don't know how Brian found out, through the dealer's little brother I think. Damn he dressed me down, yelled and jumped up and down and when that didn't work, he sat down and cried. So I lied. And I told the truth. Not all in one breath, but pretty close. "I just broke up with the sleaze-bag Brian! Honest to God", I said to start, and I wasn't lying. "I am done with the whole thing. Swear." I didn't say by what I swore or what exactly I was done with, but he bought it. Then he told me that he loved me. I guess I knew it. Somewhere deep in my heart. I loved him too. But not like that. I tried to tell him, but the words got stuck somewhere and they never got all the way out. I just nodded stupidly and said yes when he invited me out for dinner. That started a strange relationship. I'd go over to his house and we'd play video games, poke fun at his little sister, mess with the dog, chat about nothing. We held hands and kissed goodbye and hello and play fought in the front yard, kick- boxing each other till somebody went down. (Usually him because he was too much a gentleman to put me on my ass where I needed to be.) Brian knew I wasn't a virgin. It was a topic we left alone most times. I dated around with another college boy and broke up with the guy after sex the first, second and third times was so aweful, I almost fell asleep. I went to Bri's house to share my pain. His parents were gone and he was already into his Dad's vodka. He never could hold his liquor. Sick as a dog. I called my house and told them I would be spending the night with his sister. (Not mentioning that she was a 4th grader.) By nine o'clock, he'd gotten it all out of his system and by four the next morning was awake with a massive headache. We laid in bed and talked until he got up and brushed his teeth. He came back and started kissing me. I let him. Probably because we were such good friends. Probably because I loved him in my own fashion. But it was stupid. What happened next was even stupider, if that's a word. He got back into bed and we really fell to it. Arms everywhere, legs atangle, clothes practically jumping off. "I don't know what to do Ti," Brian mumbled shamefacedly. "I do. Just lay back and I'll take care of you," my famous last words. I was already hot and wet. Taking his hand in mine, I guided it to my cleft and showed him how to rub my jewel. He took to it without much more instruction and I focused on his dick. His sharp intake of breath when I touched it the first time nearly sent me off the side of the bed it startled me that much. A strict Catholic, Brian confessed that he had only wacked off once and that had been the first time we had met, nearly 2 years before at my eighth grade graduation. He'd repented since then apparently, but the lust for me had never gone away and here he was, ready to commit another sin. I stopped. "I can't do this Brian. I love you, but I just can't do this," I said sorrowfully. "You'll end up in confession with Father Mike, telling him that you went well beyond lustful thoughts and I'll feel bad and you'll feel worse and end up hating me for it," I reasoned. Brian shook his head and his dick bobbed a little. I tried to keep the smile from my face. "I'm serious Bri', I don't want to do this, I don't love you like you deserve. You're my friend. Maybe the best friend I've got." He shook his head again. "I don't care Kris, I know you love me in your own way. It's enough. Please?" he said, reaching up to touch my face. I never could resist a man who knows how to beg really well. I straddled him and used my hands to position his dick. "Are you sure you want this Bri? It's going to change everything between us," I argued half-heartedly. Never ask a man that question with your hands on his dick and your pussy hovering over him like a treasure just out of reach. He nodded and I sank down on him, slowly engulfing his cock. I leaned over and kissed him after he was lodged to the hilt. I stayed motionless for a moment and just savored the feeling of his dick inside me, hard and deep. He didn't move either, almost as if he was waiting for a signal from me. When I at last broke the kiss and sat up, he sobbed. It was pure extacsy. He reached up to grasp my breasts and I began to slowly move up and down his rod. For a nearly 17 year old Catholic boy who hadn't jacked off in nearly two years, his stamina was quite good. I didn't have to rush myself but took my time, using my pelvic muscles to squeeze him tight when I rode him all the way to the base. My climax was on the verge the whole time as I watched him experience sex for the first time. There was no artifice in him at all, no role playing, no bullshit. Just a guy, making love to the girl he wanted most in the world for the first time. The guilt slammed back into me full force just as my orgasm hit. I lost myself to the power of it, the feeling of control that I had derived from taking his gift made me nearly drunk with sensation. I continued to move smoothly up and down his cock throughout and when my eyes refocused to see him watching me, openmouthed, like a man who had beheld a goddess I came again. This time I held more control and kept my eyes open while I worked my pussy on his cock. I looked down at him and called his name. The one key. That did it. He exploded inside me, throbbing hard. I held him afterward as he sobbed thank you over and over again. The guilt surged back to the point of nausea. I'd just fucked my best friend and the relationship would never be the same again. I left about an hour later for home and the traditional inquisition. At least I knew that I didn't have to obey 'restriction'. Unless they ever found a way to lock me in the house. (Being locked out was less of a worry then the possibility of being locked in, and at times I actually hoped for it.) The year continued and Brian and I saw each other regularly. No sex, just friends. But I had been right. Something had changed. When I started dating the local computer whiz, Steve G., Brian tried to hide his hurt and anger. It just didn't work though and I had to stand in the middle of them when Bri threatened to beat the shit out of Steve. Although Steve was a couple of years older, Brian would have thrashed his ass. And it wouldn't have done any good. I would have continued to date Steve. Brian called one day and asked me to meet him for pizza. He told me what I knew had been coming for months. "I love you Kris and if I can't be with you, then I just can't be your friend. It kills me to know that you're with some guy and I'm not." I nodded. I understood. I didn't like it, but there it was. I kissed him goodbye. I declined a ride home and just sat on the curb after he left and cried. There's more to the story of Brian and I, but it can wait. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----