In the beginning, you were all about control, both of you. Everything was new, and you took it slow, limiting yourself to holding hands and chaste kisses in public, and nothing more than a wandering hand or two under the shirt in private either. You would sit in cafes holding hands, and tell yourself that of course you could behave outside, and he looked at you and told you the same. You believed in your innocence and your decency, and you had no reason not to.

Then you started exploring. Behind closed doors, you let go more and more; the hand that had previously been wandering around your midriff rose higher and higher until it cupped your breast first through your bra, then, pushing it aside, skin on skin, and shirts came off completely, yours and his. In public – in cafes, in theaters, sometimes in the library – hands wandered, tongues wandered, and people often coughed while walking past you.... But you didn't care, you were too wrapped up in each other.

As days, even weeks passed, your public behaviour deteriorated. The hands that had been quietly clasped on the desk between you rested on thighs, on backs, under robes, and dangerously near waistbands.

Then another milestone was reached, one weekend around a month after you started. You were lying on his bed, as usual, and shirts had long since been discarded; kissing like you hadn't seen each other for a week, you were clutching each other almost desperately when his hand detached from your shoulder and traced down your side, coming to rest on your hip. It rested there for a moment before slowly moving downwards, landing on the inside of your thigh and beginning a slow circular movement upwards. You knew where this was going, and you held your breath as he touched you where no one had ever touched you before. He rubbed you through your knickers a few times before carefully flipping your skirt out of the way and easing his way into the by now damp garment. Your breath hitched at the new sensations overwhelming your body, and it was all you could do to cling to his shoulders and kiss him to keep yourself grounded.

Each touch brought a new wave of pleasure, and all of a sudden you felt a tightening in the pit of your stomach, it felt like everything was gathering deep inside you, and though you'd never experienced it before, you knew that this was it, this was what was meant when people talked about climaxing, and when everything that had gathered released simultaneously and you let out a small moan, the only sound you had made, you knew why everyone talked about it.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and grabbed you with a new fervour. You pulled him closer, impossibly closer, and kissed him frantically, like you wanted to absorb him, to become one person. He was holding your shoulders, squeezing you tight, and you could feel the emotion in his embrace, how he was holding you like you were more precious than life itself; and you could smell yourself on his hand, the smell spread all around you, and it marked him as yours, only yours.

It wasn't right for you to get all the attention, you'd decided, so you'd snaked your hand into your pants and found him already hard. You had no idea what you were doing, but grabbed him all the same, and he grunted, telling you you were doing the right thing. You kept going, moving your hand and squeezing slightly, and before long he grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you, and when he looked in your eyes you could see the adoration.

After that, your control went down the drain completely. Though you went no further, there were no limits to where. At breakfast or at lunch, you might suddenly feel a hand creeping up your thigh; reading in the library, you would get bored and slowly open his fly. Even car rides were affected.

One Tuesday you're driving down the main road, and traffic has decided to be a pain for that day, for no reason anyone can discern. You and he are sitting in the shade of the window, and you aren't playing the slightest bit of attention to the road, for two main reasons – one, you know the road, and two, three of his fingers are inside you, and he's doing his damnedest to distract you.

And it's working. One of your hands is on his thigh, the other grasping the edge of the door, and you're holding on to both for dear life as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you. You fight the urge to throw your head back as you reach the edge, and by now he knows exactly how to push you over it.

You're just calming down again when you arrive. You barely make it out of the car before he pushes you against the wall and kisses you furiously.

"You have plans next, right?" he asks in a low voice.

You nod.

"Wrong," he says, "we're going to my room." And the passion with which he leans down to kiss you again dissuades you from arguing.

His need is catching, and you're both tempted to stop multiple times along the way, but you both know that this is different, and with a few stops in corners, you make it to the entrance of the His House. You leave your clothes in a trail through the house and collapse on his bed in nothing but your underwear. Your hands are everywhere at once, and so are his.

He reaches around to unhook your bra. His lips capture your nipple, and you shudder, and shimmy his boxers off his hips. He looks to you before grasping your delicate knickers, completely soaked from the car ride’s exploits, and you nod almost imperceptibly, permitting him to dispose of them.

For the first time, you're both completely naked, but neither of you stop to consider that fact. He kisses his way down your body, and you can't do anything but lie there. His tongue darts into your belly button, and you giggle, and that giggle turns into a gasp as he cautiously licks your cunt. Your hands go to his head, fist in his hair, and you hold him in place as he fucks you with his tongue, almost but not quite to the point of climax. He pulls away, and you whimper.

"Are you ready?" he whispers, and although he doesn't say what for, you know exactly what he means. You nod, smiling up at him.

He positions himself between your legs. His hands find yours, and he squeezes your fingers tightly as he slowly pushes into you. You brace yourself, you know it's going to hurt, but a tear wells up anyway and rolls down the side of your face. He leans down to kiss it away, and continues to kiss your face down your jaw until he reaches your lips.

He releases your hands to frame your face, and you reflexively wrap your arms around him. You've grown used to the feeling of him now, and tentatively move your hips upwards. The feeling generated by this small motion astonishes you, and you gasp, and then he starts moving and you stop wondering at the small amount of friction needed for your undoing and lose yourself in it instead.

You cry out when his cock gives you the release his tongue refused you, and collapses on you with a gasp moments later. He presses kisses all over your face, and you pull him closer and simply lie there. In this moment, he is your world and you are his; there is nothing more, and you want for nothing more.

After a while, you speak up. "Do we have to go to the party?"

He laughs, nods, and presses a kiss on your temple.