The second he told me to go to him, I knew. It was in his voice. Lower. Deeper. Almost soft. And it sent a ripple of desire through my system. The question was... did I want to go to him? Knowing that it wouldn't be another kiss. Knowing his fingers would slide up my thigh, find the sweet spot, work it. Knowing that it wouldn't stop there. That within the next hour, I would know what it felt like to have him inside of me. And did my libido want that? Hell freaking yeah. But did I? I had about thirty seconds to decide, with a clear and rational mind, if it was incredibly twisted and stupid... or the best decision I could make. To go out with a bang, as it were. I'd had sex before. Once when I was sixteen. With one of the older kids living at the group home. I don't know why really. I wasn't ready. I barely had a grasp on the concept of sex, let alone the possible physical and emotional repercussions.
