MY SWEET LITTLE VIRGIN Read online

  Family comes first.

  Rizzy and I need to talk. I hope to God I can find the right words to explain to her that seeing her uncle’s dick doesn’t mean a thing. It’s just one of those silly things.

  Fuck!

  RIZZY

  Okay, okay, don’t panic. Act normal. Like nothing happened. You didn’t see anything.

  This is what I tell myself as I fidget at the dining table. I want to hide in my room, but that would be aggravating things. He’d think it’s a big deal to me, what I saw, that I find it wrong. I don’t want him to feel guilty, or that he owes me any explanation. It was me who went to his room, his private space. It’s my fault I witnessed what he was doing. No, it was my choice to witness it.

  But Oh God, this is going to be mightily awkward.

  My body is still hyperventilating. My skin is a bit damp with sweat as I still tingle from the recent memories of watching Ry touch himself. I’ll probably never forget it for the rest of my life. It was…beautiful!

  I cover my face with my hands. I’m such a perv. I purposely sneaked in to watch him.

  What will I say to him?

  “Hey, Uncle Rye, don’t worry, I’ve seen jerk-off video clips on the internet. No biggie.”

  I groan in further mortification.

  My panicking mind is interrupted by the sound of his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  I sit straight, willing my heart to calm down, my tummy to settle, my pulse to slow down.

  I plaster a casual expression on my face.

  He appears at the archway.

  He’s freshly showered, looking even more gorgeous now that I’ve seen what he’s packing underneath his clothes.

  Oh snap!

  “Rizzy…” he begins, tentative.

  By the guilty look on his face I immediately know he noticed me fleeing his room. That’s the last thing I want him to feel. Guilty. It wasn’t his fault at all. It was all mine.

  I give him a big smile. “Hey come, sit.” I gesture at the chair across me.

  He remains standing.

  I open the casserole in the middle of the table. “Tadah!”

  His eyes fasten on the ribs I’d painstakingly cooked to perfection for him. I know he loves meat and I’ve been cooking mostly veggies for us the past days. This is my treat for him.

  “Come on, carnivore! Dig in!” I say in an exaggerated tone.

  His guilty features melt into a smile.

  “That looks delicious.”

  Strange, but “delicious” sends a tingle down my spine. My mind is now full of him stroking his big cock—

  “Come on, let’s eat.”

  He sits on the chair. He surveys the table arrangement, his face soft now, appreciative.

  He meets my eyes again. “Thank you.”

  And as always, I can feel his sincerity. My heart swells with joy.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Rizzy—“

  “We can do that later, “ I cut him. “For now, we eat. Okay?”

  He nods. “Okay.”

  Chapter Three

  RYLAND

  Her sumptuous ribs made me forget our current predicament for an hour, at least.

  She babbled about her work. She only babbles when she’s feeling awkward or nervous and she’s been babbling nonstop about the most mundane things that happened to her the whole day.

  I know how she feels. I’ve kept my mouth shut and concentrated on my food. Any word that tumbles out of my lips might make things worse. I have to carefully deal with this delicate matter. Our future relationship depends on it.

  How can you repair it? She’d seen your dick in a manner that is completely inappropriate for your relationship. How can you undo that?

  I bite hard on a rib. It makes a cracking sound. I don’t even mind the sting in my gums. I welcome it.

  I help her clear the table after dinner. By this time she has stopped talking. Silence reigns between us as I load the dishwasher and she wipes the table.

  When there’s nothing left to do except wait for the dishwasher to finish, I take a bottle of beer from the fridge and pop it open.

  “Let’s go to the living room, Rizzy.”

  “Uhm, the dishwasher—“

  “It will buzz when it’s done.”

  “Okay. I’ll just make myself some chocolate drink.”

  I walk ahead toward the living room.

  I can’t sleep tonight until we’ve talked about it.

  RIZZY

  He’s sitting on the sofa, drinking his beer.

  The tension is thick in the air. I’ve run out of things to talk about to cover the awkwardness between us.

  I occupy an armchair, facing him.

  I avoid his eyes this time. He’s looking at me with an intensity I can’t describe. Is he mad at me? He should be. I invaded his privacy. I could make an excuse, that it was an accident, that I didn’t mean to see what I saw, but it would be a lie. I hope he wouldn’t ask me point-blank what I was doing there in the first place when I knew he was taking a shower. You just don’t barge into the bathroom when someone’s taking a shower.

  “I’m sorry that you had to see that,” he says after a few swigs from his beer.

  He’s apologizing. He shouldn’t be.

  I meet his eyes bravely. “No. It was my fault.”

  “I should have locked the door.”

  “It’s your room. I should have knocked.”

  He stares at me harder. Please, don’t ask me why I was in your walk-in-closet.

  I can see how hard this is for him. He’s terribly embarrassed and worried for me.

  “What you saw was—” his voice trails off and he winces.

  “None of my business,” I finish for him.

  To my surprise, a small smile slowly pulls at his lips. “Yeah.”

  I nod and shrug. “I didn’t see much.”

  His brows rise. “Yeah?”

  My cheeks heat up. “I mean…Can we just let it slide?”

  “I want that, too. I don’t want it to change anything between us, Rizzy.”

  “Of course. It’s a normal thing. It happens all the time. No biggie.”

  His brows arch again in a silent question.

  “I mean, for men. I’ve never…” I blush harder. “done…that. Not that it’s a bad thing though. I mean…“

  I bite my tongue. Oh, God, what the heck am I saying? I’m making it worse.

  RYLAND

  Don’t ask her. Don’t pursue this subject. Stop. Right. Now.

  The devil wins.

  “Never?”

  She doesn’t pretend not to understand my question.

  She shakes her head.

  I feel myself getting hard again. The knowledge that she’s totally innocent of carnal pleasures of any kind awakens the primitive beast in me.

  The animal urge reigns in me. The urge to be the one to teach her all about sex. To be the first one to take her innocence and make her experience her very first orgasm. Her second. Her third. Her 100th.

  STOP IT. NOW.

  I’m stepping into the dark side.

  The decent man in me is going violent, beating against the visceral call of the wild, desperately trying to subdue it.

  I bottom up my beer and stare at the empty bottle as the seconds tick by. I should bid her goodnight. I’ve nothing good to say to her from this point on. My cock is now a raring beast between us and it has nothing but bad intentions toward her.

  “Does it feel good?”

  Her sudden question stills everything in me except for my rapidly beating heart and my rapidly growing erection.

  She’s the one throwing more kerosine to my raging fire now. My anger rises along with my frustration.

  “There are questions you shouldn’t be asking me, Rizzy.”

  She wets her lips. I clench my jaw. I could almost feel her little pink tongue swiping on my cock head.

  God, I hope she shuts up now.

  No luck.

  “Who
am I going to ask about it? I don’t have a mom anymore. And I can’t ask my dad, come on. You’re the closest person to me that I trust.”

  Good point. I should remember that. “The closest person that I trust.”

  Don’t betray that trust.

  “Ask any of your girl friends.”

  “I don’t have any here. No one that I’m super close to.”

  “Well, save it for when you see them again in Phoenix.”

  “You’re my best friend in the whole world, Ry. I trust you more than anybody else, except my father. It hurts me that were not feeling close anymore. I miss you.”

  “Rizzy—“ I say warningly.

  “Are you mad? I’m just asking. Just curious.”

  She asks me why I am mad. Why?! I can barely hold it in. The urge to grab her right now and show her firsthand how it feels to cum is so strong I don’t dare move in my chair. I’m dangerously close to crossing a line I can never go back from. So I fan my anger. It’s the only weapon I have against my amoral feelings. “Heard of the saying curiosity killed the cat?”

  “Most of my high school classmates are having sex already. I’m probably the only virgin left in my class.”

  “Good. You should stay that way longer.”

  “Why?”

  “Why what?” I snap at her.

  She isn’t fazed. “Why should I stay a virgin longer?”

  “Because…” Because I don’t want anybody else touching you but me, I badly want to say.

  “Am I missing out on sex?”

  “Yes…No!”

  She smirks. “Make up your mind, Ry.”

  “What happened to “uncle”?” I demand though I know it’s a useless weapon at this point.

  She smirks. “Make up your mind, Uncle Ry.”

  I glare at her.

  She just sits there, waiting, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips.

  I sigh and stare at my empty beer bottle. I wish I was holding a bottle of Jack.

  “Well?” she prods.

  “You’re not missing out on sex. Sex is overrated.” I can’t believe I said that. But fuck it’s the truth as far as I’m concerned. I can only speak from experience.

  “You don’t enjoy it?”

  Lord God, why me? Why am I here right now having to answer a teenager’s curious questions?

  “I do. To some extent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I’m tempted to walk out, but her eyes are shining in rapt attention, eager to know what I have to say. To her this might be just a simple pep talk in adolescent sexuality but for me, she has no idea I’m basically baring myself to her in a manner I’ve never done with any other woman before.

  “A man has needs. I’m a normal man with such needs. I satisfy those needs with women who seek the same satisfaction. Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes I wonder if that’s all there is to it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  How in hell did we arrive at this conversation, I have no idea. But I find that I’m not averse to spilling my guts to Rizzy, young as she is. I feel that she understands more than girls her age. She’s so smart and mature for her age, and she did say I’m her best friend in the whole world. That means everything to me. Her absolute trust. The trust I’m hoping against all hopes not to betray.

  “You don’t really want to listen to an old man’s sexual psyche. You’re too young for these talks.”

  “You’re not old.”

  “I am, Kitkat. Much older than you. Don’t argue.“

  She leaves her chair and sits in front of me on the carpet, her legs folded under her.

  I freeze the fuck up.

  I want to close my legs but it would be telling and it would be painful for me considering my physical state. I just hope she doesn’t notice the huge bulge in my track pants. I put my hands with the empty bottle across my crotch, hoping to block her view.

  She smiles up at me and drinks from her chocolate cup. Then she props her elbow on one of my knees, just like what she used to do when she was little as I read a book to her or when we were simply talking about anything under the sun. Those were casual, platonic conversations between a child and a man who cared a great deal about her. Now is a different situation altogether. My intentions toward her now are nothing platonic. They are demonic.

  I should push her away and call it a night, put distance between us, even just a wall and a locked door. But her eyes are so eager, waiting for me to continue. And I know deep in my heart, this conversation has to happen.

  I lean down a little toward her.

  “Sex is like any other human need. If one indulges in it casually, it becomes just a habit. You feed your body with it like you do with food. Once satisfied, it’s forgotten. It has no meaning.”

  “It shouldn’t be like that?”

  My heart melts as I look at her beautiful face. So young and innocent. Her heart is pure and untainted by perversities, but I know she’s strong, mentally and emotionally. After losing her mother so early, she’s shown her strength. She’s way stronger than her father and myself.

  I touch her check gently. “No, Kitkat. It shouldn’t be like that.”

  She smiles sweetly. “Then you should only make love to the woman you love.”

  I swallow a lump that suddenly lodges in my throat. I can’t possibly refute the conclusion she made. I set the premises.

  “Is it better with the woman you love?”

  She asks the most difficult questions.

  I tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear gently. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it with a woman I love.”

  Her smile becomes brighter, warming me up from the inside out.

  “Then you should abstain from now on and wait for the woman you love to come along.”

  I stare at her. How wise she is.

  I find myself nodding. It’s so easy to decide when confronted with the bald truth.

  I can’t do it again with anybody else but her. God help me, but that’s the truth. But I can’t ever do it with her, so I’ll abstain for a long time until I fall out of her. I don’t know if that will ever happen and how I’m going to survive it. All I know is the truth that I feel right this minute.

  I make my vow.

  “I promise not to do it again until she comes along.”

  “And I promise to make love only to the man I love.”

  What she said does something irreparable inside me. It destroys whatever fatherly connection I have with her. It’s building a new connection.

  We stare at each other, our souls communing.

  Something has changed between us right this moment.

  I know. She knows. The power of it immobilizes me, suppressing all my physical needs to honor this moment of our souls becoming one.

  But I don’t know how it will become a reality. I just know that she’s the one for me. The woman I’d give my everything to. The woman I’d love until my last breath.

  “You should go to bed, Kitkat. You have work tomorrow,” I say before my physical need overrides my love for her and desecrates this moment.

  She puts the mug on the side table and raises herself. She wraps her arms around my body, hugging me tight. Her softness surrounds me, her warmth blanketing me. I inhale her fragrance discreetly, my hands touching her back gently, curtailing the raging need to haul her over my lap and obey the demands of the monster.

  “Thank you, Ry.”

  She kisses me lightly on the cheek and dashes upstairs.

  I sigh deeply and fall back on the sofa, resting my head.

  I sit there for some time, contemplating our situation.

  I’m scared as shit for the future.

  RIZZY

  I try to find a more comfortable position in my bed.

  My mind is full of Ry. The scene in the bathroom is an unending loop of images behind my closed eyelids. They’re so vivid. His hand frantically moving up and down his hard cock…his labored breathing as though he was chasing something.

  The a
che in my core gets worse. I used to feel this whenever I was thinking about him but it wasn’t as bad as this, nor as good. It’s an insistent delicious itch now that I badly need to scratch. But I don’t know how.

  Masturbation has always cropped up in numerous girl talks among my friends. I didn’t want to look stupid so I pretended that I did it, too. But I didn’t. I’ve never felt a strong urge to explore my body beyond the usual.

  Now I feel the urge. The strongest urge.

  My fingers creep to touch myself down there. My flesh is so sensitive and so wet. I’m gushing so much and I’ve ruined a few panties already. I have to change again.

  I move my fingers over my swollen folds and I moan in the electric pleasure that ignites there. Is this how he felt while he was touching himself? It’s both exciting and scary.

  I snatch my hand back, clenching it into a fist, feeling embarrassed.

  I leave the bed and go to the bathroom across the hallway to change my undies again.

  I go back to my room and glance at the bedside clock. It’s past midnight now, nearing 1 AM.

  I feel so hot and thirsty.

  I need a cold drink.

  RYLAND

  I refuse to jack off again. I feel like a fucking pervert already it’s utterly shameful. But there’s no denying the evidence of my lust. I’m hard as fuck and I can’t fucking sleep with my dick throbbing like a motherfucker, making all my of my body ache. I have a lot of work to do tomorrow and I should have been snoring away hours ago.

  I haul myself off the bed. I need a stiff drink to drown this painful stiffness between my legs, no fucking pun.

  Whiskey. Jack. It’s fast.

  I open the door and trudge in the dim light toward the stairs.

  I‘m halfway down when she bounds up.

  I stop in my tracks.