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The barbarian known as Callum has some fun with a high elf.

In the beginning, I was just going to give the poor nerd a cheap thrill, and then leave him standing alone at the party. Then, later on, when I decided that yeah, he just might be worth a go, I was thinking in terms of a mercy fuck, and not finding the term quite as funny anymore. And now? He wanted me, but didn't know how, and I wanted him, but was afraid to just charge on ahead like I've done so many times.

I did the only thing I could do, to just give him enough encouragement to keep going. He reached out to hug me, kind of clumsily, and he knew that he was clumsy, and I whispered to him, "It's OK." I kicked off my tennis shoes, trying to give him a sign that yes, I wanted to stay. Just a simple, "Yes, Dave," and I think he finally realized that I wasn't going to bolt or run or laugh at him.

Finally, after more soft kissing and hugs, some of them kind of clumsy on the couch, I stood up, took both of his hands, and pulled him to his feet. He kissed me again, and then I started to pull his shirt off over his head. I know that's what he wanted to do to me, but was trying to figure out if it was OK. When he put his hands on the hem of my tank top, I just smiled at him and raised my arms over my head, silently telling him to go ahead. With both of us just standing there, kissing again, I finally took his hand and led him into his own bedroom.

Dave was a virgin: I was sure of it. He hadn't said so, of course, but his obvious innocence and nervousness were just totally endearing. I was going to have to take the lead on this, and did, even though I tried to look not quite as experienced as I was. I unbuckled his belt and unsnapped and unzipped his pants, but didn't just go ahead and pull them down; I waited until he went ahead and undid my jeans. Then I went ahead and pulled my own jeans down; being skinny jeans that fit me so well, I figured that he'd have a problem getting them off of me. Dave never took his eyes off me as he pulled down his own pants, showing off his oh-so-fashionable tighty-whiteys. But then I noticed: yeah, he was looking at my body, but, unlike a lot of other guys, he was also looking at my face, looking into my eyes.

My first time had been a big disappointment, when I had just turned 18, with a guy no older than me. He was rushing, he was fumbling, and he wasn't that interested in taking care of me at all. Thinking back on that, I wanted to make sure that Dave's first time was special, and hoped that he'd be up to it.

Of course, I kind of figured that his first time, no, he wouldn't last long enough to take care of me, so yeah, I was willing to fake it a bit, and maybe on the second go-around, I'd be able to get off. I gently pushed Dave back down on his bed, because to take control, I was going to get on top. I could set the pace, and keep it slow, love-making slow, and just look into his eyes.

Then, OMG, I hadn't expected this! Dave was nicely built, and very hard, which I did expect, but I was more turned on than I think I've ever been, and as soon as I enveloped him I realized: if he could last any time at all, I wasn't going to have to fake anything. I started out slow, rocking on top of him, with my hands on his chest, while he moved his to hold my hips. But it was his eyes that did the trick: this boy was looking into my soul!

I don't really know: was it his movements, was it his hard cock, or was it his deep, soulful eyes that did the trick, but no faking at all, I built up to a spectacular climax, really quickly, and wasn't even half way down from that one before another one was building up, and then that washed over me, too. He was crying out my name, and I was crying out his, and a third wave broke over me just as Dave stiffened up his whole body and he emptied himself inside me.

There was no second round, not last night.

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