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Greyson

There’s no better way to celebrate losing your virginity t han playing “I just had sex” by The Lonely Island, F.t, Akon—at max volume too.

Lilly sits on my bed, the sheets covering her body as she quivers in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing as she urges me to turn it down. But I grin at her, dialing it up more.

“Greyson!” She chuckles, throwing her feet over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as she does so before wrapping the sheet around her body…like I hadn’t just had my cock buried deep inside her and seen every inch of that beautiful body.

I’d actually done it…I lost my virginity. And for the first time in my life, I felt complete. It was like a missing piece of my soul had been found and put into place. There was a lightness in my chest, a warmth that spread through me.

I’ve waited for this moment forever—waited for the girl I knew was the one. And I knew Lilly was the one the minute I laid my eyes on her, even if I didn’t know it at the time.

It had exceeded every expectation I had. I di dn’t exactly have many expectations because I didn’t know what to expect, but she’d been so patient and reassuring with me that it made the whole thing feel…beyond perfect.

But it wasn't just about the physical act, it was the emotional bond we shared, the deep trust, and love that had made the night so perfect. And I couldn’t have wished for a better person to lose my virginity to than her.

“Dance with me.” I grin, shimmering over to her with my hands held out.

“Stop.” She giggles, her cheeks tinting pink.

Gripping her hand, I pull her toward me, making the cutest fucking giggles escape her lips as I wrap my arms around her waist and begin slow dancing.

“Never did I ever think I’d be slow dancing to a song about just having sex.” Lilly laughs, clutching the sheet across her chest with one hand while the other is tucked around my waist.

I chuckle, leaning forward and planting a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you.” I say.

And I mean it. She made this experience that I’ve been so nervous about, slightly less nerve raking.

She pulls back slightly but still holds on to me. “For what?” She asks.

“For tonight,” I say, pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “It was perfect, and losing it to you…words can’t describe how thankful I am for how reassuring, calm, and overall amazing you made everything feel.”

The way she rode my cock was my favorite thing to see. And the way her boobs bounced around in my face, h er nipples begging to be sucked as her hips rolled against me, it was nothing short of amazing.

She smiles, then leans forward and plants a kiss to my lips—only for a fleeting second, but it still has my heart hammering.

We stand there, frozen in time, just staring into each other’s eyes, and all I can do is admire her.

Everything about her from the messiness of her hair to her swollen lips…the little freckles that painted her nose, they were like a constellation, a unique map I’d memorized by heart—she was a living, breathing work of art, a masterpiece I could admire for centuries.

“How do you feel?” I ask, lifting my hand and soothing it across her cheek.

“Sore,” she chuckles. “But a good sore, a satisfied sore.”

“Come.” I say, grabbing hold of her hand and leading us toward the bathroom.

“Where are we going?” She asks, tripping over slightly but manages to hold herself up.

“I’m taking care of you.” I close the bathroom door behind us.

Although she’d never given me any notes about after care, I read about it myself on numerous websites. And giving your girl aftercare after sex, it was vital.

Plus, I wanted her to know it wasn’t just about sex—which she knows already—but I wanted to take care of her, make sure she was comfortable, safe, and most of all, I wanted to make sure she knew she was the top priority because she deserved to be treated like a queen afterward.

One article said “treat her like a slut in bed, but a queen afterward” and although I’ll n ever treat her like a slut while we have sex, I’ll always treat her like a queen every other time.

“You’re taking care of me?” Her voice is soft as her eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“You said you were sore,” I walk closer to her. “So, I’m taking care of you.”

“But—”

And it’s clear to me in that moment that her dick of an ex boyfriend didn’t take care of her after they’d…I don’t even want to say the word. I don’t even want to think about her fucking him.

But I’m pissed, for her , that he’d never taken care of her. If there’s anything Lilly deserves, it’s to be taken care of. And now I’m in her life, I’m going to make sure she’s taken care of in every aspect of her life.

A tear drops from her eye, and I reach out, soothing my thumb against her cheek.

“You deserved so much more than what you were given.” I tell her, hoping she understands what I mean.

She hiccups, blinking away more tears. “I know,” she admits in a soft whisper. “ I know .”

Closing my eyes, I try to keep calm. But the anger is there. Reaching for the sheet she’s holding, I pull it and it cascades to a heap on the ground.

Taking hold of her hand, I guide us into the steaming hot shower. I would’ve run a bath for her, but we don’t have any bubble bath—something I’m going to stock up on from now on.

I did however stock up on the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash she uses…the stra wberry one that makes my cock hard every time I smell it. And I’m guilty of using it myself occasionally to smell like her.

Am I addicted to her?

Yes .

Guiding her under the shower head, I watch as the water cascades down her body, droplets of water pool at her nipples before falling down. And I’m hard again…but is that really a surprise?

Moving her forward an inch, I reach behind her and squeeze a generous amount of shampoo into my hand before running it through her hair.

“I can shampoo my hair.” She turns her face slightly to look at me.

“I want to.” I say, gripping her shoulder and turning her away.

My fingers thread through her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp. She lets out a satisfied sigh, leaning back into me, no doubt feeling my raging boner against her back, but she doesn’t say anything.

As I’m massaging the shampoo in her hair, she grabs a fresh washcloth that’s hung up against the tiles, soaks it beneath the water, and begins rubbing it over her face washing off her make-up.

I grab another washcloth and lather it up with body wash, spreading it around her body gently. I can feel her muscles relax as I soothe the cloth around her skin, and I could see the goosebumps rising.

Unlatching the shower head, I bring it down, rinsing the shampoo from her hair, making sure I massage it out, the same way I’d massaged it in, before returning the shower head back to the hook.

“Lean down a little.” She says, turning to face me.

“What?” I give her a confused look.

“Lean down.” She repeats, grabbing the shampoo and squirting some into her palm.

I comply, ben ding my knees slightly so she can lean up and massage the shampoo into my hair. Her tits are eye level, and I’m trying my hardest not to look at how hard they are right now.

I’ve never had anyone take care of me before, and I know she’s only washing my hair, but this simple act means more than she’ll ever know.

We continue the shower routine, she helps smother body wash all over me, and I continue doing the same for her. And once we’re both clean, I step out of the shower first, grabbing three towels from the heater.

Grabbing her hand, I guide her out of the shower and wrap the larger towel around her shoulders, giving her the other to dry her hair while I dab my body dry with my own and snake the towel around my hips.

Once she’s finished drying her hair off as much as she could, she hangs the towel back up on the dryer before looking at me with wide eyes.

“Greyson,” she mummers, adjusting the towel around her chest. “What am I going to wear?”

Uh, my clothes, obviously .

Grabbing her hand, I lead us back into my bedroom. Grabbing a pair of sweats, I hand them to her before walking toward my closet and pulling a shirt out. We both stay silent as we get dressed, and once we’re done, she looks at me and smiles.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“No need to thank me.” I tell her, guiding her toward the bed and pulling the duvet back, gesturing for her to get in.

She slumps into the bed, and before she lies her head on the pillow, I quickly fluff it the way she likes , making a soft smile cross her lips.

“And thank you for trusting in me tonight,” she says, pulling the duvet up to her shoulders, cocooning herself in its warmth. “I know how much tonight meant to you, and I’m happy you trusted me enough to let me be the one you lost it to.”

“You make it easy to trust,” I admit as I grab the remote from the bedside table and hand it to her. “Pick something to watch, I’ll go grab us some snacks, okay?”

“Popcorn?” She looks at me with hopeful eyes.

“Always.” I smile.

Because ever since I found out how addicted she is to popcorn, I’ve made sure our pantry was fully stocked with every flavor possible—especially the mixed buttery and sweet one she loves so much.