swaron os :the first time (congo tanhaians)

Hello everyone. This is just a little something I wrote for my friends at the tanha AT on the occasion of reaching 150 AT's. It's a little early but still have a look
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Everyone has a story about their first time. Some
are sweet and romantic, some are incredible,
some are bizarre and some are disasters. My
story may be all those things rolled into one.
When I think back even I have a hard time
believing what happened. I do know that I
wouldn't be where I am today without the
incredible woman who dropped so suddenly into
my life, a woman I met the fall of my second year
at college. I owe her so much
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I was getting that familiar buggy feeling I get
when I'm in a crowd and my anxiety starts to
crank up, but I kept it in check by looking down
and avoiding everyone's gaze. The party was in
full swing with music blaring from the lounge
halfway down the dorm hall. Eager drinkers
pressed in around me as I pumped the keg. There
was not one familiar face in the crowd. Everyone
there was with my roommate or his circle of
friends. Normally, I wouldn't have associated with
my roommate and would have preferred the quiet
solitude of the library but the thought of strangers
touching my things had been too much, so I
volunteered to man the keg. This way, I could
keep an eye on my stuff and get free beer.
Black leather combat boots appeared on the floor
before me, a change from all the tennis shoes,
sandals, and flip-flops I had been seeing. My eyes
followed the boots up to a black and green plaid
kilt, up to an ancient black Joan Jett t-shirt
tattered around the edges, up to a thin face
framed by spiked jet-black hair, up until my eyes
locked onto brilliant brown eyes outlined in heavy
mascara. She half-sneered at me, as if in
challenge. I just nodded in greeting and passed
her a beer. She gave me a little crooked smile and
melted into the crowd, leaving me slightly flushed.
I continued pouring but kept thinking about her
brown eyes and how they seemed to bore into me.
Later those boots and those eyes were back,
looking for more beer. Her hands were empty,
though, and the supply of plastic cups had run
out several minutes before. "Sorry," I said. "What
happened to your cup?"
She scowled. "I put it down to send a text and it
must have been picked up by one these ass-hat
frat boys." Pointing to a half-full mug on the shelf
next me she asked, "Whose is that?"
"Mine," I explained and she picked it up and
downed the rest before smirking and holding it
out. I refilled it and she took a long sip off the
top before handing it back.
"I'm Sharon," she volunteered as I took a drink.
"Swayam ," I said as she took the mug from my
hands. A black widow tattoo decorated the inside
of her left wrist and another tattoo, green vines
twisting and choking a broken clockwork, adorned
her right bicep. I counted at least nine different
piercings in her ears and eyebrow. She was short,
almost a foot shorter than me, with a slight build.
At first glance she appeared frail but I noticed the
way the cords stood out on her arms as she
randomly plucked textbooks off my shelf and
thumbed through them before replacing them in
the wrong location. "Sharon's a unique name," I
said, attempting conversation. I winced inwardly
at the awkward rhyming of my statement.
"Short for Sharonjeet ," she explained without looking
up from my Physics text.
I stole a sidelong glance at her body. Her legs
were pale and smooth and looked soft to the
touch. On her left thigh I could see just the
bottom of another tattoo and wondered what it
could be. When I looked up she was watching me
intently. Attempting to cover my embarrassment I
joked, "Did you just come from the Young
Republicans meeting?"
"Church -- I'm an altar girl," she said without
missing a beat. She looked me over critically.
"You don't fit in, either."
I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans but I knew what
she meant. My body language was all wrong. I
nodded. "My roommate's party, my roommate's
friends, his friends' friends, and so on. You know
anyone here?"
She shook her head. "No one. I walked a friend
back to her room after a movie, heard the music
and decided to crash."
We talked as I continued pouring beers. Sharon told
me she was majoring in sociology and I said I
was studying computer science and engineering.
The fact that she didn't run away after I told her
was encouraging. The music down the hall was
cranked even higher and drinkers crowded in
around us, forcing us closer together. Sharon
shouted one-sided conversation in my ear as I
pumped the keg. To be honest, I don't recall too
much of what she said but I clearly remember the
feel of her breath on my ear and the five times
her body rubbed against my arm as the crowd
pressed in.
Eventually the keg ran dry and I had the
unenviable task of turning away drunk but thirsty
souls, their collective mood turning darker by the
moment. All of my attempts to get them out the
door failed, the crowd growing more surly. In the
end it was Sharon who drove them from the room
with pushes and kicks, swearing at them the
whole time. I taped a sign on the door, closed it
and locked it.
"Thanks. I thought we were going to be overrun."
"The only thing a mob will understand is force,"
she explained. It sounded like she was
disappointed in me in some way. "You need to be
more forceful and not let them walk all over you."
I nodded mutely, thoroughly chastised. Then she
smiled slightly. "Anyway, I owed you for sharing
your mug."
Sharon sat cross-legged on my bed, sipping what
was left of the beer, watching me shuffle around
the room picking up trash. Her skirt had ridden up
a bit exposing more of her thighs. I pretended not
to notice and concentrated on stacking discarded
plastic cups and tossing them in the wastebasket.
I finally got to my bookshelf and was, at last,
able to reshuffle the textbooks into the correct
order. The urge to touch them seven times
almost overwhelmed me but I fought it
successfully. Only crazy people touch things like
that. When I looked at her I saw she had a
curious expression on her face.
"What?"
Her eyes narrowed and her lips twisted
thoughtfully. Finally, she asked, "Are you workoholic?"
"No," I said, completely unoffended. It was not
the first time that question had been asked of me.
"Didn't think so." She patted the mattress next to
her. "Come here and take a break."
I sat on the bed with my back against the wall. I
tried to look relaxed on the outside but I doubt I
succeeded. Every nerve in my body was jangling
and my body felt stiff as a board. Sharon didn't
seem to notice. Instead she rubbed at a mark on
her skirt before turning and looking at me closely.
I started to wither under her stare.
"What?" I asked again, afraid she had noticed my
awkwardness
She shook her head, a frown on her face. "You're
not like other guys, are you?"
"No, I suppose not."
She nodded, absently picking at the scuff mark.
Without warning she kissed me, hard, pinning me
against the wall. Once I recovered from the initial
shock I began to return the kiss but I was always
a step behind. Her tongue forced its way past my
lips, so alive and electric. My hand went to her
back; her hand went to my crotch as she drove
me down onto the bed. Tentatively I moved my
hand down to her ass and she boldly shoved her
hand down the front of my jeans.
I had lifted her skirt as she stood with her back to the wall and now had my fingers between her legs. 'Come to me,' she whispered, her breath hot in
his ear.'Into me now.' I removed her
fumbling fingers from his trousers and freed myself ...
I turned the light off. I pressed against the Object. I took the backs of her thighs in my hands, adjusting her legs around my waist. I reached under her. I brought her up to me. And then my body, like a cathedral, broke out into ringing. The hunchback in the belfry had jumped and was swinging
madly on the rope.
Sharon looked at the clock and bolted from the bed.
"Shit! My curfew is in ten minutes!"
I couldn't believe my ears. "You live in Mother
Mary?" I teased. She shot me a dangerous look
as she smoothed down her skirt. To make up for
the slight I offered to walk her back.
We hustled across campus to Mary Hall, the lone
all-women dorm on campus. Also known as
Mother Mary, the Nunnery, or, more crudely, the
Virgin Vault, it was the only dorm that had a
curfew. A favorite of over-protective parents to
guard their daughters against all the evils of
college life, it was also the only dorm with a
waiting list. We got to the front doors with two
minutes to spare according to the large antique
clock over the entrance. Sharon kissed me lightly on
the lips before disappearing inside. I was walking
on air on my way home before realization set in.
I had forgotten to get her number and I didn't
know her last name. I'm such an idiot.
The following week I walked slowly past Mary
Hall on the way to and from class hoping I'd run
into Sharon, even walking out of my way whenever I
had time. I had her panties which I had found
balled up under the edge of my bed and I carried
them with me like I was the prince in a perverted
version of Cinderella. Not once did I get a glimpse
of her. I slept with the shirt I had worn that night.
I hadn't washed it and I could still smell her on it.
After two weeks I had almost given up seeing her
again. I was in my room catching up on
homework when I heard a voice. "Hey." I looked
up at those brilliant brown eyes. Sharon was
standing in my open door wearing a t-shirt and
ripped jeans, a lock of jet black hair covering one
eye. She flashed that crooked smile and asked,
"Am I bothering you?"
I had found her
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Writing on Swaron after ages. Do share your views

Amazing OS 😊