[moonlightzz]

My room to me has always been a safe haven, my sanctuary, a place where I could totally lose myself without a care in the world. Hence, even today I can't fathom why I'd allow (at that time) a boy into my room, even if he was my boyfriend. Besides, he was a boyfriend of barely 2 months.

Brian came over the day after my folks flew off. What's the worse that could happen right? A relative might just pop by, catch him in the house to which I could say he's a classmate working on a school project and they'd be none the wiser.

Keeping in mind that it was his O level year, my boyfriend (ex) did, to my surprise, bring over his books and mug. Though I can vouch for him that he did truly mug during the days he was over, I bet you readers can already guess that wasn't his only intention.

Sheryl Crow has a song titled "The First Cut is the Deepest", she couldn't be more right. Day 1 passed uneventfully, yes we kissed... and frenched but nothing beyond that. On the second day, he was studying as usual and I was also doing school assignments (I think). I remember the following as clearly as though it happened yesterday...

I was seated on my bed (I had relinquished my desk to him since he was supposed to be doing the heavier duty studying) busy with my school assignments, when I felt his hands come from behind me and wrap around mi waist. By that time, we had hugged and embraced each other (apart from kissing) a few times, so I paid little attention to it. As soon as he hugged me, he immediately went in and kissed my neck.

Now that was new, his lips has never touched anywhere else apart from mine at that time. It was sensual, it was calming, it was... good... this new sensation and experience. He kissed one side of my neck before moving onto the other and all the while as I was indulging in this new experience, his hands roamed from my waist. One hand moved upwards, the other downwards.

Brian's right hand moved sneakily under the bottom of my tee while the left hand playfully lingered on the waistband of my FBT. By this point, he had me tilt my head backwards and up and started frenching me. I was so lost in moment that I totally ignored his right hand that had found its way upwards from my abdomen and gently lingered along the hem of my bra. His fingers were stroking my lower chest area just right before my bra.

His left has graduated from toying the waistband of my FBT and inched downwards and under my shorts. His fingers were tracing along the waistband of my knickers, occasionally a finger would dive under the waistband, greeting my skin that was below it.

All these happened as he was still frenching me.