About J.-Chapter 2

The wine tasted like shit, but I kept drinking, and soon, I was feeling fuzzy, and tipsy, and reckless.  Angel, for that's what we called him, was with my brothers, who ended up going to sleep. I knew my parents weren't going to be home for a while, so I decided to wait it out, and now it was time to make my move.  Angel was in his room, the guest room watching t.v.   I walked in, and I felt tingly all over, but I wasn't even nervous.  He looked up at me, and it seemed like he knew. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I cupped his face and kissed him. It was almost like he froze their, at first his lips felt like wood, but they seem to soften of their own accord, and became warm, succulent. He kissed me back, and it was so sweet. I felt like my pounding heart was connected to my privates.  I got onto his lap, and as his hands slid around me, suddenly he pushed me away. "Noo!!!!"  I looked at him and giggled, I was swaying on my own feet.  He shook his head and stood up. Ran his hands through his long hair. "You're drunk Irene, this is a mistake you know this." I looked at him," I want you Angel." He gasped, he seemed like he was afraid, of me, I was surprised. "We need to sober you up, before your parents get home, come one."  He dragged me to the kitchen, and made me drink coffee, black, yuck. I ended up having a bad night......I woke up and went to school hung out with my friends, and ended up back home again.  The week sped by, and soon it was Friday.  I tried to forget about what was happening between Angel and me. I avoided him, and that wasn't easy, so as a result, I spent a lot of time in my bedroom.  Whenever I was around him I felt his eyes on me.  When I got home Friday afternoon, it was still early. My brothers weren't out of school yet, and my Mom didn't get out of work for another two hours.  My stepfather worked at a bar, different hours, and he didn't get out of work until 7.  Angel, was in the kitchen seasoning chicken.  He was an excellent cook, and he had his certificate.  He was trying to get a job as a cook, no such luck yet. "Hi Irene."  I looked at him and turned away, and dropped my book bag on the chair. "Hey."  We began a conversation, and soon he was teasing me.  "I don't believe that fourteen year olds can french kiss."  I knew he was leading me on, daring me to do something, I wasn't stupid. "Yes they can Angel, I have frenched before." He washed his hands, and said, "prove it." I didn't get it, first he was pushing me away, and now he wanted me to kiss him.  That night I was drunk, I didn't get to french him. Oh well I might as well.  He had walked into his room and sat on the edge of the bed again. I walked up to him and kissed him, and I never kissed anyone that way again.  It was forceful, and for the first time, I felt like I wanted someone sexually. It was a battle of tongues, my tongue clashing against his. I felt like I was on fire, and I ran my hands through his hair, we were both breathing loudly. He cupped my ass, and I sat in his lap.  My clit was throbbing, for the first time ever. And for another first, I felt his hard on. It seemed to snap me back into reality. I stood up on shaky legs and smiled. He looked shocked. "I told you I could kiss." And with that I walked out of the room.1