The moment was upon them. Allison lay back on the bed, somewhat carefully, keeping her eyes on his. David settled himself between her open legs and rested on one forearm. He took his cock in hand and guided it to her naked curvature, feeling, feeling...
"Here." She wiggled, planting herself more squarely beneath him, and reached down to help steer him home. As the head of his cock sank in, she gasped and bit her lip.
"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" He looked concerned.
"Yes, but ... it feels so good, too ... don't stop. I don't want you to stop." Somehow the pain heightened the pleasure. The intense combination burned through her senses, a fuse hissing toward a stick of dynamite.
"I won't stop." Even through the latex, she felt so damn good. Her body enveloped his tightly in an all-around hot embrace.
Together they watched his cock glide inside her. Allison felt her heart rate pick up. Despite the pain, or perhaps in part because of it, some coiling knot of pleasure in her was threatening to spring. Her nipples were swollen and hot, the tiny peaks straining upward in full erection. She flexed her back and lifted her pelvis — a whimper fell from her mouth — and then it happened. David tore through, and they were virgins no more.
Pleasure and pain lanced through her body. She writhed hard, her entire being a fireball of agony and ecstasy. David galloped toward his own release. She looked into his eyes with a lust she had never experienced, laced with a bit of shock. He pounded into her at a frantic pace, until joy overtook him as well.
* * *
Now as he sat on the sofa where they had first started making out, David wanted more than ever to make love to Allison. He wanted to affirm their love, to somehow make sure that he was the one she would always want, not some good-looking bastard like Craig Stewart. David hated Craig, hated him for even thinking about laying hands on his girlfriend. The notion of that asshole playing in their band pissed him off no end. Swing Time had been his idea, and that idea had revolved solely around his effort to win Allie. Another man crashing the party, especially that goddamned sonofabitch who would have fucked her given thirty more seconds, galled him fiercely.
Yett here she was, talking about doing the right thing, and furthermore pushing him away when he slipped his hands under her sweatshirt. The feel of her smooth skin was a blessing to him. He could use a blessing right about now.
"Not now. My dad is right upstairs!" she hissed.
Dejected, David sat back. "And you want to do this thing, you want to let jerkwad play with us."
Her frown matched his. "I just feel like it's the right thing to do. I think he acted stupidly in the heat of the moment."
He stood to go home. "Okay, Allie, but please. Please don't be alone with him."
"I won't," she shook her head gently. "You have nothing to worry about."
* * *
Upstairs, Stan Katz was looking at an old photo album and trying not to cry. If only Emma were here, she'd know what to do, what to say.
What should he tell his daughter? How could he best protect her? The first emotion that speared his chest was anger. He seriously considered telling Allie to shut this Stewart kid down. The bastard had nearly raped her for Christ's sake!
On the other hand, he felt the true test of his faith. The boy was trying to atone. And you never, ever, cut someone off when they were seriously trying to make amends. What kind of example would that set?
That didn't mean you had to buddy up with them, though... Stan closed his eyes and sighed. Emma, Emma. Tell me how to be a good father to our girl!
He heard the front door close and figured David had just left. It was time for a father-daughter talk, and Stan hoped he didn't screw it up.
Allie looked up as her father descended the stairs. Her face was surprisingly peaceful.
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