This one here.. we are calling her “J”. She was my first true heartbreak, my first relationship, my first real life lesson. J was this girl that turned heads when she walked into a room, she demanded her presence be known. The night I first met her, I was 16; she was 18. We were all at the same hookah bar and when she walked in that door, she was all I saw. Everything, everyone and anything around us disappeared. I needed to get to know her, I needed to know her name. After about an hour of her continuously catching me staring at her, she caught my glimpse across the room and nudged her head towards the back room. I followed her down the hallway, past the cashier and into the back restroom where she was waiting. I went to introduce myself and she had already pushed me against the wall. I quickly spun her around so her back was pinned to the wall and I had her hands above her head. We were in there kissing for a few minutes when someone else walked in. I spun around into the sink and pretended to be washing my hands as if it wasn’t obvious we were both extremely flustered. I suggested that we exchange numbers, go back out to each of our group of friends and see each other another time, J had other plans though.. She suggested we slip out of the back door and go back to her place. I am not one to wander off but I had this fire in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to know her more, I needed to know who she was and if there could be something between us. I followed her out and rode with her back to her place. The whole ride there my hand was on her inner thigh, she kept glancing over at me with this crooked smile and my lips kept finding themselves gently kissing her neck. As we were attempting to make it up her stairs my hands had a mind of their own, she was topless and her shorts were hanging on by an ankle when we hit the 8th step. My mouth had found the inside of her thighs, my hands had gripped hips and pulled them into me. I didn’t care that we were on her steps, no blanket, no pillow, no clothes.. just us and our touch. She would scratch her nails down my back with every thrust of her hips as I had pushed my fingers into her and ran my tongue over her clit. Within minutes she had orgasmed and as she was pushing herself up the stairs, I pulled her hips back on top of my mouth. I wanted her to cum again, I wanted her to scratch me again. I didn’t want to stop. The way she “got off” was so addictive, it effected me in a way I hadn’t been before. I didn’t feel the need to be touched, as a matter of fact I just wanted to keep touching her, I wanted to keep my mouth on her all night, until she couldn’t take it anymore and was begging me to stop. So that’s just what I did.