An Innocent Thanksgiving

I could still remember how she felt that night. How she’d confessed to me that I was her first. The determination that had filled me to make it amazing for her, to do my absolute best—it was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I had plenty of experience, and I wanted to use all of it to give her something transcendent. She’d taken a massive chance, choosing me, being with me, and I’d wanted to make that worth it for her.

I’d been all the more grateful that I’d eaten her out beforehand. I’d figured—hey, young men often didn’t know what the fuck they were doing with their fingers and cocks, never mind with their mouths. A lot of them didn’t even know that it would be a good idea to use those mouths for anything.

The way she had trembled and cried out while I’d eaten her out, how loud she had been, should probably have clued me in on the whole virgin thing. But I hadn’t thought about how sensitive she was. I’d thought that it was just because nobody had gone down on her before, and I’d left it at that.

But then as I had entered her, she had wrapped her arms around me and whispered the truth—that I was the first person she had ever been with.

My heart had skipped a beat, I swear to God.

I had been determined after that to make it as good as possible for her. My hand stripped faster and faster over my cock as I remembered how hot it had made me to know that I was the first one who had done this for her, to her, that I was the person she had trusted to show her how this all worked. Maggie had continued to make such sweet noises as I’d carefully worked my way into her, not wanting to hurt her. I’d wanted to her to feel every inch of me but to enjoy it.

In the end, she’d asked me to go faster. “I want to feel you tomorrow,” she’d begged. “Please, Cal.”

Please, Cal. The way she had begged and said my name was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever heard. Even now, five years later—and even though I hated to admit it—I still usually came after touching myself with that phrase in my ears, Maggie’s voice ringing in the back of my mind.

I’d fucked her hard and fast, losing myself to the pleasure of it, taking her like an animal. Maggie had loved every second of it. At least that I was sure of, no matter how much guilt I’d felt afterwards.

And boy, had I felt a lot of guilt.

I shoved that thought to the side as I fucked my hand, imagined it was Maggie’s sweet, tight cunt, imagined that I was fucking her again as her nails raked down my back and I bit a mark into that sweet pale throat…

I came hard, spraying the bathroom tile, my chest flushed and heaving.

Goddammit. As the water ran down my body, washing away the evidence of my indulgence, shame sat heavy in my chest. How could I have done that? I had betrayed my friend, and yeah, Maggie had wanted it, but did that really justify my doing it? I was the older person. I should’ve kept my head.

I had told her as much afterwards. I’d gotten a washcloth to clean us both up and had tried to explain to her that this couldn’t happen again.

“There’s too much at stake, and we’re in two different parts of our lives,” I’d said. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

Maggie hadn’t accepted that docilely, but then, I probably shouldn’t have expected her to. Maggie never did anything gently. She was the kind of person who knew her own mind and she was stubborn as hell. I’d always respected that about her. That night, it had come back to bite me in the ass.

“Do you think that I’m some naïve girl who doesn’t know what she’s getting into?” she’d demanded.

“I think that you’re young, and you’re still in school, and your father would kill me if he ever found out what we did. I respect him and our friendship too much to do that to him. You might think that you want me, and we had fun just now, but it’s never going to happen again. I’m too old, you’re too young, and our lives are too different.”

Maggie had looked for a moment like she might argue further with me, but then the hurt I’d seen in her eyes had slid away like she was closing a door on me.

“Fine,” she’d said, her voice icy and cold, and that had been the last I’d seen of her.

Maggie had transferred schools that next semester and was now living somewhere else, and rarely visited. I hadn’t seen her in person all these years, and yet… she was present in my fantasies more than I cared to admit. Perhaps it was time to admit that, wrong or right, I was hung up on her. Hung up on a woman I’d slept with once, a woman who was half my age, the daughter of my best friend.