"So you're going to just keep me hidden away here all weekend?" Purity lies on her stomach beside me in bed with her feet kicked up behind her.

Her naked body on display like this is irresistible.

I run my palm over her bare ass cheek and think about how much I want to claim this part of her, too. My cock begins to harden in response to the mere thought of claiming her ass as mine. "I am going to keep you here," I declare. "I told you I was never going to let you go."

"I'm pretty sure you have to let me out to go to class." She rolls onto her side and puts her finger on my chest, trailing it down lower. "Otherwise my professor will chastise me."

"I hear he's a real hard-ass."

She slides her hand around my hip and squeezes my ass cheek. "Mmm. Maybe a semi-hard-ass."

"Semi-hard, huh?" I roll onto my back and pull her astride me, her knees on either side of my hips. Her hair swings down around her face, brushing my cheeks. One hand on her lower back, I guide the tip of my cock to her entrance. "It feels pretty hard to me. Does it feel that way to you?"

She's so wet. The girl is wet for me all of the time. I've taken a timid virgin and turned her into a woman who can't get enough.

"I'm not sure," she says coyly, pushing against me slowly. I relinquish control to her, watching in fascination as she rocks herself all the way down onto my cock. I could grab her waist and pull her the rest of the way down, but I'm enjoying letting her be in control.

Seeing the expression on her face is enchanting.

Enchanting.

The sex is clearly not only doing something to Purity. It's messing with my brain as well. It's making me a sappy moron, and I'm not normally a sappy moron.

Right now, though, she's fucking enchanting with her figure silhouetted by the evening light that filters through the curtains in my bedroom and creates a soft glow around her.

She pauses with me deeply inside of her, her palms going to my chest. She's so tight it takes my breath away. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

She nods, taking her lower lip between her teeth as she begins to slowly rock on me. There's something enthralling about watching her face soften as she begins to gain momentum, taking her pleasure from me. Her expression becomes more and more marked by lust as she rides me.

When she finally starts to really let go, she tosses her head back and closes her eyes. I grasp a rope of her hair, pulling it to force her eyes back open and back onto mine. I don't want to lose the connection with her.

Using her hair to hold her, I meet her thrust for thrust as she fucks me harder. I can't get over how perfectly she fits me, how damned tight and wet and slick she is. "Do you like riding my cock, dirty girl?"

She rides me harder and moans. "I love it."

"Is this what you thought about in your dorm room at night when you touched yourself?"

I want to know every fantasy she had about what we might do together.

I want to know everything about the girl.

"Did you think about sinking onto my cock and fucking me the way you're doing right now?"

"I thought about… oh, God," she groans as her pussy tightens around my cock. She's so swollen that it's hard to think about anything other than how amazing she feels.

"I want to know all of the things you've fantasized about," I tell her. "I want to do all of those things to you."

She looks at me through half-lidded eyes. "I want to do everything," she moans. "Teach me everything."

I want to teach her so many things.

"Ride me harder," I tell her. "Fuck me harder, dirty girl."

Purity rides me until she's so swollen I think she's going to come any second. She rides me until she's making these little whimpering sounds over and over. I squeeze her ass cheeks, and she lets out a long groan. When I find her asshole with my finger, her eyes widen in surprise, but she's so close that it only makes her ride me harder.

When I press my fingertip against her puckered hole, she screams out my name loud enough that I think the entire block hears her. Her orgasm triggers mine and I let go inside of her. I bury myself deep in her pussy, my fingertip presses against her asshole, and I come hard.

After she catches her breath, she looks at me with big eyes. "What was that?" she whispers.

"I told you I'm going to claim all of you. That means everything."

"Oh my goodness."

The innocence of the expression makes me laugh.

* * *

I make good on my word, too – not the part about claiming all of her. Not yet, anyway. I'm not a complete monster. After all, the girl needs to adjust to having sex in the first place before I start going about introducing her to anal sex. I make good on my word to keep her in my bed forever.

Or at least all weekend, anyway.

Judging from her behavior this weekend, she's adjusting to sex just fine. She can't seem to get enough of lounging around in bed with me, so that's what we do. We spend Sunday alternating between binge-watching movies, eating leftovers, and christening every single room in my house.

I fuck her on the sofa and the kitchen counter and up against the wall in the hallway. I feed her leftover pho and Massaman Curry while telling her about my visiting Paris. She listens, her eyes bright, when I talk about Machu Picchu. She confesses having wanted to visit Morocco since reading about it as a kid in the library because she thought it sounded like the most exotic place in the world.

She wants to go on safari in Africa.

She wants to see Nepal.

She lies on her back in my bed with her naked body glistening from exertion and her cheeks flushed from orgasm, looking up at the ceiling and gesturing as she tells me all of the things she wants to do.

"This is going to sound totally stupid," she warns me.

"Tell me anyway." I roll onto my side and prop my head up with my hand. I'm lying here talking to her like some kind of stupid love struck teenager, but I don't care. I've never been so damned interested in anyone before. I've never been so damned content to lie around and truly listen to someone. So if she wants to talk about stupid things, I don't care. I want to hear every stupid thing she wants to say.

"I remember you visiting when I was a kid," she says. "It's weird because I didn't really make the connection that you were in the Marines at the time. Maybe you were just coming in and out of town, but I remember you visited and brought me this glass bauble from Japan, I think."

"I came back to South Hollow to visit my mother," I tell her. "Your father and I hadn't had a falling out yet, not completely anyway. I brought you a trinket back from Okinawa."

"It was Christmas, I think, and you brought me this little clamshell made of blue glass."

"You remember that?"

"Of course I do. I mean, I was a little kid, so getting me something made of glass might not have been the smartest idea ever. It's a miracle I didn't break it. It sat on my dresser out of reach until I was older. Then one day when I was older my father told me to put it away and I never understood why."

I snort. "That was probably when your father and I really had it out. A bunch of people from his church picketed my brother's wedding."

She grimaces. "I'm so sorry," she says softly. "I didn't know about that. I know he's my father, but there are so many things he does that I hate."

"It wasn't your fault," I tell her. "Anyway, tell me what's so stupid about this story?"

"I'm getting to that part," she says. "I hid the clamshell in the back of a shelf in my closet. Whenever the walls felt like they were closing in at home, I'd take it out and look at it. That's the part that sounds stupid, I know. It was just this little trinket, but it was this thing I had that came from all the way on the other side of the world. I'd look at it and remind myself that there was something outside of South Hollow and outside of my father and his church. I'd tell myself that there were people on the other side of the world, people with lives that didn't involve my church or my town, people doing things and making things and being happy."

I don't know why her words hit me quite the way they do, but I have to swallow hard because my throat gets thick. "That's not stupid, little girl."

I've been referring to her as "little girl", thinking of her as sheltered and naïve and innocent. Yet I never thought of any of these kinds of things – existential questions about my place in the world relative to other people – until I was far older than she is right now. She's naïve in some respects, but in others, she's much more mature than I am.

I run my fingers down her abdomen and trace the curve of her hip. "It's not stupid at all."