Loading...I hear the hiss and screech of another train arriving at the platform down below the main level of Alewife station, the end of the Red Line. A metallic smell rises up the stairs on the gust of hot air displaced by its arrival. The doors open with a whoosh, and the clamor of passengers starts up the stairs and the escalator. My stomach clenches as the first faces come into view and the travelers file toward the turnstiles. The Saturday afternoon herd is thin, so it’s easy to dismiss the men who come up from the platform: not alone, too short, dark hair, headed straight for the door…. The process of elimination continues until it’s clear to me that that was not your train.
I exhale audibly, realizing that I’d been holding my breath. I laugh at myself and shake out my hands, which are tingling and slightly damp.
I know you’ll be here soon; you called from Harvard Square to say you were headed into the T. I turn to pace a little, and stare blankly at the headlines on display at the newsstand. The thought suddenly occurs to me that you were on that last train, but decided to stay on board and take the return trip back into town and to your hotel room rather than to come and meet me as we’ve planned. I have to wait only a few minutes with this notion in my head before the next train arrives, and I feel a pang in my chest I spot you just as you make it to the main level. I catch your eye, and as you approach, we get our first live look at one another. Our eye contact is broken up by your fellow passengers’ walking between us, but each time you come into view, I see on your face a mirror of the smile that has developed on my own.
When we are finally face to face, I instinctively put out my hand to shake yours; even as I do it, I think, How awkward, but your hand meets mine, and as we say hello, our first touch sends a thrill up my arm. We let go, lunge into small talk, and ride the flow of people out of the station and into the garage. I’m flushed with nerves, stealing every look I can at you. I watch a variety of expressions pass over your face, and, when we reach my car, I drop into the driver’s seat with a sigh of relief because I haven’t yet seen any sign of disappointment from you. I don’t want anything, least of all your assessment of me, to take away from the pleasure I hope this evening will bring you.
I tell you, teasingly, that among the many preparations I’ve made for your visit, I’ve brought along the take-out menu for Udupi Bhavan, a southern Indian place near my house. If that sounds good, I say, we can call from the road and pick up our dinner on the way. You agree enthusiastically, not that you know other options, and I feel a minor swell of success that I’ve made a good choice. I’m not ready to talk about the rest of what’s to come, and you’re graciously following my lead. You’re just as quick and funny in person as you were online and on the phone, and, bit by bit, my anxiety is replaced by anticipation, and I hope to myself that you are feeling that shift as well.
You get a glimpse of my city, which you’ve heard of, but never before visited, as we swing by the restaurant and head for my house, a tiny, mid-century modern ranch in a quiet neighborhood. You stand close behind me on the steps as I let us in, and hearing your breath close behind me makes the hairs on my arms are stand on end as we cross the threshold. I’ll give you the tour after we eat, I tell you.
It’s when we’re sitting at the table that we finally break through to talking about more intimate matters, talking about our chats, how surprisingly intense they’ve been, and how arousing. With every glance at you, and with every exchange of words, that same effect kicks in. Neither of us eats much, and before long I’m packing up what’s left. I offer you the bathroom and some towels so you can freshen up, and smile goofily behind you as you pull your toothbrush out of your backpack. Good man, I think. When you’re done, I follow suit. Before I leave the bathroom, I take an uncharacteristically close look at my own face in the mirror, trying to recognize the new version of myself that invites men she’s met online to her house for sex, especially of the sort we’ve discussed. When I come out, you’re standing in the living room, looking out the big front windows at the darkening evening, and you turn toward me.
The mood is charged now, and I cross right to you, my heart beating a little faster. I reach out a hand to touch your side, and as I do, I ask, Okay? I want you to give me your explicit permission to follow my instincts. You put your hands on my shoulders and say, Of course, and with just your fingertips, you move me toward you. You bend your head down to kiss me, moving your hands to the middle of my back and pulling me tight against you. My arms are around you, pulling you into me in return; our mouths seem locked together as the combined energy of our anticipation is conducted through this embrace. With each exhalation, we press ourselves more tightly together, and at the first graze of the front of your jeans across my belly, I sigh into your kiss, my lips opening. Your tongue grazes my parted teeth and you move to deepen the connection, letting your tongue find mine.
The sum of your touches—lips, tongue, hands, and especially the press of your stiffening erection through your jeans and my skirt—have the heat rising in me. My head swims as I feel the first twinge and the first wetness signaling my arousal. It suddenly seems urgent to get to the couch, and I force myself to break the current running between us to steer you down onto the soft cushions. It’s almost a relief to let air between us. I remind myself to be careful, that I have an idea of how I want to move us through this night, and that my main goal is not my own satisfaction. That noble thought does little to cool me down, so I walk blindly into the kitchen to get us some water. When I return, the sight of you leaning back on my couch sends another surge of heat through my body, and when I sit down, I run my hand up your thigh and give you a squeeze to make sure you understand the effect your presence is having on me. You respond by leaning further back and extending one leg so that I can move up between your thighs and come in close, and I do. I feel like I’ve performed some kind of magical act to bring you here, and you read the satisfaction on my face.
Because, in our short acquaintance, words have proven so erotic, I want to exploit them in the context of this physical encounter. As I slide up to you, and take in your expectant expression, I feel a thrill of power knowing that I’m aiming to draw out your excitement as much as I can. I press my hands into your chest, lean in for one quick kiss, and take your shirt in my hands. As I lean back, you put hands on my hips, running your fingers across the soft fabric of my skirt, then taking a tighter hold. I want to watch you as I describe what’s to come, to take the fullest possible advantage of your imagination and your willingness to place your fantasy—and your body—in my hands. I undo a few of your shirt buttons and, in a low voice, tell you, I’m glad you agreed to make this trip. You respond, Me too, definitely, and I undo the buttons on my blouse. I undo the rest of your shirt buttons and push the material aside. I rest my fingertips on the sides of your throat and feel your quickening pulse for just a moment, then rake my fingernails lightly down the length of your torso, across your chest, making sure to catch your nipples, and over your stomach, watching the tiny contractions of your muscles and feeling your fingers clench and tighten on my hips as my fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans. I retrace my motion back up your body, laying my hands flat on you now, applying pressure to your skin and feeling it move under my palms. I reach up into the arms of your shirt to grasp your strong shoulders, and you crunch forward so that I can slip your shirt down off of one arm and then the other.
You have to take your hands from my hips so that I can get your shirt off, and when each hand, in turn, is free, I take you by the wrists and slide your hands into my open blouse and onto my breasts. You run your fingers over the lacy material of my bra, see the black fabric stark against my light skin, and readily find my stiffened nipples. You spread your hands, catching my nipples between your fingers and then squeeze, grasping my flesh so firmly that I close my eyes and let out a moan. Beautiful, I hear you murmur, and I know it’s my reaction you’re describing, but, still, I blush to hear it. I take a deep breath, and feel my breasts swell in your hands, and then a contraction deep inside my pussy. I open my eyes again, wondering if you can tell the effect you’re having on me. Your sweet, open expression is the reminder that I need to keep my focus on your pleasure.
With a smile meant to convey my renewed sense of purpose, I reach for your belt and unfasten it. I move my hand down and rub your erect cock through your jeans and lean in to whisper along side your ear, I want to feel you inside me. You make a noise I interpret as agreement; when I lean back to undo the button and the zipper of your jeans, I finish the thought, just a little flatly, But that’s not the main reason we’re here, is it? As I ask, I give your hardness a light squeeze and feel it jerk in response, then take my hand away. I know I’m walking a fine line. I want you on the verge of orgasm, I want to keep you there, I want you to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible. Is it, I repeat in a steady voice that lets you know the question is not rhetorical. You are looking right at me, but your eyes unfocus slightly now when acknowledge, after a breath’s pause, No.
No, I repeat, it isn’t. I lean back and look you over, your shirt off, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, your jeans undone and your cock rigid and straining against your underwear. I’m glad that we’re reminding ourselves why we’re here, because I’m strongly reconsidering the plan in favor of taking your dick into my mouth right then and delivering the blowjob of a lifetime. I look away to try to erase the thought, and when I look back, your tight smile tells me that you are relishing your status as a nearly irresistible temptation. I can’t help but smile in return, but I know it’s time for me to move things along, so I let the moment of amusement pass as I look into your face, watching your smile relax away, and feel my own do the same, as we listen to each other breathe. When I sense that this pause allowed your arousal to ebb just a bit, I exhale deeply. Because your fantasy has lived for so long in words and as mental images, I want us to examine again what they mean to you, before we bring them into being. I say, Listen, because I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen, what we talked about.
You close your eyes and bite the insides of your lips, and though we’re not even touching, I’m sure I feel a pulse of heat come from you and almost hear your heart press against your ribcage. You keep your eyes closed, but nod to tell me you’re listening. I begin, Okay, then. Unless you tell me not to, in a minute, I’m going to call my friend. Like I said before, you don’t need to know his name. He probably won’t say much, either, he’s not talkative, especially not in these circumstances. Once I call, in about ten minutes, he’ll be here. I’ve told him about your fantasy, and he’s only too willing to oblige.
You wince slightly at the thought of me discussing your most private desire with another man, and you take a short breath. I touch one hand to your face and say, I know, it’s okay. I feel the small tremors there as you accept what I’ve done, knowing that my fundamental intention is to help you know yourself in a new way. You nod again, and I continue, softening my voice, When he gets here, we’re going to make sure he’s ready for you. You’re going to tell him, and you’re going to show him, what you need from him to make sure he understands. Isn’t that right?
You tilt your head back as if to nod, but hesitate, and now I want to look directly into your eyes, I want you to let this out of your own head, and I want to see you let it pass from fantasy and words into being. I stroke your face again and ask you gently, Please open your eyes. You do, and the look on your face is so unspeakably personal and raw that my chest tightens. I am sure I’ve never seen that expression on any person before. A second’s doubt enters my mind, and I bite my lip to keep a tiny cry from escaping. When I close my eyes and say, It’s okay, it’s okay, I don’t know which of us I’m trying to reassure.
Even as I speak the words, a wave of responsibility for your happiness occupies my mind, and I’m distracted by how strange and powerful that responsibility makes me feel. I open my eyes and look at your face again, and feel an urgent need to put us back on course before I lose my nerve. I place my hands on your chest again—I can feel your heart thumping—and continue, speaking low and holding your gaze, not waiting for your responses now, He’s going to come here for you. You’re going to let him know what you want, aren’t you? You’re going to invite him to take you, to fuck you. When he’s done, he’s going to cum in you. He’s going to fill you up with his cock, and he’s going to cum inside you. If this is not what you want, tell me. If you want this, if you need this like I think you do, trust me, and come to bed with me now.
I’m fighting to keep my voice steady, and to keep my legs steady as I stand up from the couch, and put out my hands to pull you up. When we’re standing face to face again, I put my arms around you. I wonder if I’ve gone too far, frightened you, or hurt you. You draw me in and kiss my neck. The touch of your lips is so tender, such a contrast with the words I’ve spoken, which I fear sounded too harsh. I am suddenly afraid that I might be interfering with something that I don’t fully understand. You kiss my neck again and I have the awful thought that you’re kissing me goodbye. My mind is frantically working for a way to apologize, to stop you from going, to keep you kissing me, when you put your hand on the back of my head, press your lips to my hear, and whisper, Call. Relief floods through me, and I turn my face into your chest and lay a string of soft kisses across it. As I do, you slip my open blouse back off of my shoulders, and I take my arms from around you to let it fall to the floor. I had thought, talking to you and planning this night, that I had a sense of my own role in this, but in this moment, my certainty wobbles. You unhook my bra and I let that fall to the floor, too, and I press into you again, feeling the slightly damp warmth of your skin against mine. The balance of need, desire and vulnerability between the two of us is shifting unpredictably now, flowing palpably back and forth through us, refusing to settle into a singular, namable proportion.
I look up at you, say, Okay, and turn to walk to the phone. Your arms are still around me, and when I step forward, you don’t let go. I turn my head quickly to see if I’ve misunderstood, but, in a generous show of humor, you are smiling at me. You slip your hands down to the front of my hips and pull me back to you, pressing your erection into my back just at the top of my ass, and I draw in a sharp breath and push back against you, exhaling with a small groan. My breasts sway forward as I arch my back, and I feel the wetness run out of my slit. I hear what sounds almost like a laugh from you, and I am dizzied by your grace, your honesty, and your sexiness.
In this playful way, we take the steps to the phone, which is sitting on a low side table, and when I bend down to pick it up, you slip your right hand up under my skirt and run it over my ass and across my panties to the obvious wet spot, which you feel spread under your touch. I’m dialing, I tell you with a taunt, and as I do, you slip your fingers under the waistband of my panties and pull them down, stepping back to slide them to the floor. You hear a male voice answer the phone, and I say, Hi, it’s me, come on over. The voice on the other end says, Okay, see you in a few.
I hang up and toss down the phone, step out of my underwear, and turn around to you. I take your hand and lead you down the hall to my bedroom. We never did take that tour, I say as I let you pass through the doorway before me. You take in the high, iron-framed bed and note how the dark green color of the walls absorbs most of the light from the amber table lamp that glows on the dresser. As you turn to look around the room, I step in front of you. You can easily continue to glance around the room over my head—you notice the stack of books on the nightstand and another on a tall cabinet and smile at that familiar feature—but your attention falls back to me when I drop to my knees in front of you and, taking care to slide my hand between the fabric and your erection, peel down your open jeans and your underwear all in one motion.
You rest one hand on the top of my head for balance as I pull off your shoes and socks and you step out of the rest of your clothes. When I kneel up again, your hand is still in my hair, and I rub my hands up the backs of your taught thighs and over your ass. I press my face in and run my tongue from the very base of your cock to the head, relishing your reaction as it twitches. When I sweep my tongue across the top of your head, I’m rewarded with a few, salty drops of pre-cum, and I lap across your sensitive head again, this time with just a bit more pressure. I look up at you, and you put your other hand on my head, but I remind you, We’re just waiting now, staying ready. Right, you sigh, Ready. I give you one more lick, sighing myself because I would love to take you into my throat right then, but I find the will to resist and stand up.
He’ll be here soon, I say, and I turn to start arranging the bedclothes and pillows. I’ve told you about this friend of mine, someone I’ve known for years and trust implicitly. The thought that he’s about to arrive makes me nervous, though, because he’s certainly never seen me naked, and it suddenly strikes me as strange that I could have just licked the cock of a man I’d met only a few hours earlier, but feel overwhelming modesty at an old friend seeing me naked. I reassure myself that he’s only going to be here for you, anyhow. When I step away, you see that I’ve stacked a pile of pillows at the head of the bed, and placed two more halfway down the edge of the bed. You say, matter-of-factly, You’ve given this some thought, haven’t you? I can’t resist the urge to kiss you now. I grab you and pull you in and say, Yes, a lot—a whole lot. Still smiling, I stand on my toes to meet your lips as you tilt your face down to me. I’m on the verge of forgetting myself again; now, with only my skirt on, and your cock pressed against my stomach, the wetness runs out of my pussy and onto my thighs. You slide your hand back up under my skirt, cradle one of my ass cheeks in your hand and then give it a squeeze. I sigh raggedly into your kiss, and then we hear the front door open.
I break away from you with regret, invite you to sit down on my bedroom chair for a minute, and grab a t-shirt from the back of the door, holding it over my breasts as I step down the hall to meet my friend. You hear him laughingly say, Oh, my. You hear me hiss, Shut up. He laughs softly at the state I’m in. I know the cost of this favor is that I will be mercilessly mocked in perpetuity. I ask him, Are you ready? Born ready, he replies, patting the front of his jeans, showing me that he’s already hard. You hear me say, Ugh, all right, come on, already, and hear us start down the hall. Though there’s never been anything between he and I, I’ve always admired my friend’s body, and, even more, his sexual confidence. I’m weirdly proud of having such a sexy man to bring you. I step into the room and immediately cross to you, putting one hand on your shoulder, and holding the t-shirt up with the other. He steps in behind me, looking at you appraisingly, partly out of delight at the sight of an unclothed and handsome man, but also out of curiosity at what creature could have me acting so out of character. I make the most cursory introduction I can think of, trying to watch both of you to read your reactions to one another.
You move from under my hand and stand up. You’re a couple of inches taller than he is, but he is more thickly built; of course, he’s still dressed, while you’re utterly naked. He stays back by the door and says, Looks like you were busy—don’t let me interrupt. I look from him to you, momentarily stunned at the fact of him and then the fact of you here in my bedroom. I wish I knew your expressions better now, because I can’t tell what you’re thinking, and I very much want to know. I feel self-conscious on your behalf as well as my own, and so I turn to face you, standing in front of you as if to shield you. I don’t want you to be the only one naked, so I toss my t-shirt on the chair and say to him over my shoulder, Why don’t you go ahead and get undressed?
Man of few words that he is, he says nothing, and I keep my back to him. I take down my skirt, step out of it and throw it on the chair, too, and when I straighten up, I see that your eyes are locked on him. He’s got his shirt off and is taking down his jeans; he’s got nothing on beneath them. He kicks off his sneakers—he hasn’t even bothered with socks—and looks up to see the two of us looking at him as he ceremoniously lets his jeans drop to the floor. Standing there, I suddenly regret having told him that I’d provide direction. I want very much to shape this experience to how I understand your fantasy, but I’m afraid to misstep and make the reality of it fall short of your expectation.
I reach out for your cock, and slip behind you as I circle my hand loosely around its thickness. I slide my hand up your length and whisper into your back, Let me know when you’re ready. I get in a few more strokes before you touch my arm. I look around you to see him standing at the foot of the bed now, casually stroking his own erection, which is standing out away from his body. I kiss your back and then step to your side, my hand at your waist, walking you forward two steps until you are face to face with this man, a stranger to you. He says simply, Okay, and puts his left hand on your shoulder. You shift your weight, and I can see he is pressing downward on your shoulder, encouraging you to kneel. A tremble rises through me as I see you put your hand on the bed to let yourself down. He drops his hand from your shoulder, and I step behind you and put one hand on each, trying to express my support for you and my curiosity at what you’ll do now, and what he’s going to do.
Give me your hand, he says, holding out his own, and you comply without question. He guides your hand to his stiff cock, and, with his hand wrapped over your own, shows you how he wants you to stroke him. He wants you to feel the heft of his erection, for you to think about how he’s going to use you to satisfy himself. He is easily more than seven inches, and you thrill a little at how the width of him fills and opens your hand. You feel his cock throb against your hold, and as you slide his skin forward with your hand with just the slightest twist, he makes a small sound, and you see the clear liquid as it beads up on the tip of his dick. I see your cock twitch in response, and grip your shoulders tightly, thinking how just minutes ago I knelt in front of you. Once again, I can barely contain the urge to take you into my mouth, and I wonder if you aren’t having a similar urge yourself.
That thought has only just formed in my mind, and maybe in yours, when he puts a hand on the back of your head. I see you look up into his face, then reach out and put your hands on his thighs for balance. My heart is pounding now, and I fall to my knees behind you, pressing up behind you. You feel my breasts on your back, my nipples hard, and I slide my hands around you. I put one hand on the center of your chest, feeling the rise and fall of your breaths, and the other I reach down to your shaft, tracing up to the tip, where your own pre-cum has emerged. I rub the flat of my palm across the head and feel you quiver. He guides you forward toward his cock, and you lean in. I’m breathless as you part your lips and lay the tip of your tongue on his head, collecting the taste of his cum. He moans at the sensation, and the twitch of his cock’s response drives him to apply more pressure to the back of your head.
As his head passes your lips, I feel a twinge of my own and squeeze my thighs together to make the most of it. Just a taste, he says, and pushes in just a couple of inches, enough to make you adjust your jaw and breathe in sharply through your nose. You slide your hands to the backs of his thighs. He pulls back and then leans forward slowly again, pushing just the same amount of his cock into your mouth and over your tongue, which you instinctively arch up to meet him. He does this to you a few more times, hissing his approval at the tight seal your lips have made around him, and then, as you exhale, he lets go of your head and steps back. I can see that you would have taken more if he’d given it to you, that you would have taken his cum in your mouth if he’d let you. I am delighted that by keeping himself at the edge of orgasm, he is doing the same to you, prolonging and building up your excitement.
He watches you, but doesn’t put out a hand to help you up, so I get my feet back under me and step back so that you can lean on the bed and get to your feet. You turn to me, and I reach out to take your hands and squeeze them. That looked amazing, I tell you, You are too sexy. Will you come lie down for me know? You nod, and I can’t tell if you’re stunned by what’s just happened, or just feeling the strain of your erection. I pull you over to the side of the bed, stopping you in front of the pillows that I positioned halfway down that side. Hold still a second, now, I tell you, and let go of your hands so that I can push myself back until I can lean back on the pillows at the head of the bed. I bend my right knee up, and tell you to lay yourself down on the pillows over the edge of the bed. With your right hand on your cock, you come forward and set yourself down, and even the vague pressure of the soft pillows makes you flex your hips for contact.
I guide your left hand under my raised knee and bring your shoulder nearly to my pussy so that you can reach your arm all the way around my hip. Once I have you anchored against me there, I arch my back and tell you, Slide your other arm under me. I am happy to be back in your embrace, and show my appreciation by grinding my slit against your bicep. I am so focused on the pleasure in this friction, I barely notice that he’s moved around the bed and is behind you with a perfect view of both of us.
With my left hand I caress your long, supple back with firm, sure strokes, each slightly slower, the width of my palm following along your spine first on one side, then the other, and back again. The pressure and warmth of that massage grounds you. I let my fingertips fall and allow them to trail along, and the contrast of their feathery touch confuses the nerves in your skin and adds to your arousal. When I extend my attention down onto the roundness of your ass, I move across it first with the same light brushing of my fingertips, and then, more insistently, with my whole hand. You take a few, heavy breaths, and, as you press your face into my hip, I feel a tremor in your exhalations.
I lean forward and speak softly to you. I tell you how sexy you look, how exciting it is to see you stretched out the way you are, to feel your apprehension and excitement. I remind you that he is looking at you, too, and rubbing his cock, and that, very soon now, he’s going to lay his hands on you and spread you open. Your breath becomes uneven as you hear me sweetly speaking these words to you, and you tighten your hold on me. As you do, your left arm presses more fully against my pussy, and you feel my wetness escaping again; you know that it’s the idea of what will happen to you next, and the anticipation of watching you live out your fantasy, that has me so hot. As if to confirm your thought, I promise you, my voice steady, but just above a whisper, that he’s going to fill you up with his cock, that he is going to fuck you, that you are going to beg him not to stop, and that you are going to make him cum.
As I say these words your mouth opens and you let out a sigh. You move your lips against my hip in something very like a kiss, and I feel your fingers bite into my skin. I stroke the side of your face affectionately and ask you to look at me. You open your eyes and move your gaze up first to my breasts, noticing how erect and flushed my nipples are against my pale skin, and how my own, deep breaths of arousal are lifting my chest and shoulders, and then you lift your eyes to my face. You register my look of reassurance and desire, and you close your eyes to cement this small moment of comfort, but, right away, I ask you gently to open your eyes again. When you do, I’m no longer looking at you, but am reaching toward my nightstand. You try to follow my gaze, but what I’m doing is just out of your peripheral vision. You hear a little snap and a liquid sound, and you know that I’ve just put some lubricant on my hand. When I look back to you, my expression is the same, but your anticipation has overtaken that passing sense of comfort. I bend my head down toward yours, and, so quietly that only you can hear me, whisper: Thank you for letting me be with you now.
Without waiting for a response, with my left hand, I give one more, long stroke down your back and directly to your ass. I squeeze your right cheek and expose your asshole; from the way you grind your hips into the bed in response, I can tell that your cock is completely stiff. You feel my pussy twitch and clench under your arm, and you know that exposing you in this way is bringing me that much closer to my own orgasm. I sigh deeply and lean forward to bring my right hand down to your ass. You feel the cool slickness of the lube as I lay the side of my hand along the length of your crack, and you let out a hiss as I slowly twist my palm down and spread the lube in your opened ass. You think of him watching as I prepare you for him. You think of the thickness of his cock, and how hard it had become against your tongue and lips, and of the taste of the beads of his cum that you had licked away.
As those sensations flash through your mind, I reach down and, with the lightest touch, stroke your balls. The signal travels right to the tip of your cock, which twitches again, and you groan. You press your face into my hip, your mouth slightly open, and I can feel your teeth on my skin. I let my fingers trail up, grazing your perineum and setting off another charge of sensation to add to the rest. Finally, my hand returns to your ass. I gather a puddle of lube on the tip of my middle finger and run it firmly around the rim of your opening. You moan now, and as you grind your cock between your stomach and the pillows once again, I slip my finger into your warm hole, taking the lube just inside. You feel the cold gel, and my finger exploring inside of you, setting off ripples of excitement.
He’s ready now, I say, and you’re not sure if I’m talking to you or to him, and you realize it doesn’t really matter. You hear him step forward, and your heart pounds in expectation. I place my left hand between your shoulder blades, pressing down lightly as if to hold you in place, and my right hand rests on the back of your head, my fingers in your hair, cradling you against my hip. You tuck in your chin, turning your head just enough to plant a few gentle kisses on the soft hair on my mound. As you press in for one more, the forceful grip of his hands on your ass, so unlike my touch, makes you arch your back, and a small sound of surprise escapes your lips. I stroke your head and tell you, Baby, try to relax.
He steps in closer, pushing your legs apart and out of his way, opening you up further. You feel the coolness of the air, and the lube already drying on the rim of your hole. He’s handling your ass, kneading it hard, hard enough to make you take in a sharp suck of air between your teeth. When he releases you, you hear that liquid sound again, and you know that he’s got the lube. One of his hands returns suddenly to your ass and harshly draws it open, and then his other slaps across your hole, covering it with lube. Your erection is throbbing. I watch as he gives himself a few harder strokes, just to make sure that he is as big as possible when he enters you, then lines up the tip of his rod with your waiting ass. In that first second of contact, it seems like none of us is breathing. You open your eyes and glance up to see me looking down at your face, my eyes half closed in pleasure at the sight of you, and then he leans into you.
I see your eyes open wide and lose their focus on me, then see you squeeze them closed, and you push your face into my hip, letting out a guttural moan. My heart turns over in my chest at the intensity of your expression, and I remind myself to try to take in every aspect of what’s beginning to happen. I can see that he’s only let the head of his cock into you. Your reaction isn’t to any pain—not yet—or even to the fear of pain, but, rather, to something I imagine as your recognition that the wish you’d expressed to me so privately is about to take you over. I lean forward and, in a barely audible whisper that, with your eyes closed, you think you might have imagined, I remind you, This is what you want, this is what you need.
As soon as the words escape me, he throws his weight into you, driving his cock in—not quite all the way—and this time your moan carries a note of pain from the shock of sensation when your hole is stretched wider than you could have imagined by the girth of his erection; then there is the heavy fullness beyond that from the depth of his first thrust. Your breathing is fast and shallow, and you experience a confusion of feeling radiating out from your ass. He’s holding still for the moment; he knows that you are processing this new combination of sensations and he wants you to have time to feel every change and shift as he puts you through the paces. I can see on his face the intense pleasure he’s taking not only from the friction of your tight hole on his hardness, but from his power over both your body and your fantasy.
At the same time, you have your own power over him; your need and desire has charged the whole room with excitement. You are exquisite in this moment, your body flushed and taut, offered up for his use; this hiatus as he holds still, stretching you out around his cock, lets him keep his orgasm from coming too soon. You rub your face back and forth against me, and I can tell that you are parsing out the sensations and the lust and memories. He must recognize this, too, because he moves his large, strong hands to your hips, wrapping his fingers over your hipbones and digging his thumbs into the small of your back, and he pulls you down onto him as he thrusts powerfully forward, hilting his cock in you, and you feel his balls slap against you.
This time your grunting vocalization is strong enough that I feel its vibration on my skin, and a little thrill travels down to my clit. He’s through hesitating, though; your mouth stays open as you breathe in heavily at the motion of his cock pulling back, the flare of its head marking his movement. The ridges of his skin and yours pull and twist against one another, and your own hardness feels explosive. As he leans into you again, you feel the weight of his entire body against the backs of your thighs, equally unfamiliar and thrilling as the weight inside you, pressing you open, and more open still.
I see him shift his stance and settle into a rhythm, a steady thrusting forward and pulling back again, his hands moving you onto him and away again, and with every stroke, each of you is making sounds of effort and pleasure. His head falls forward and I can read the concentration on his face, knowing that he wants to fuck you for as long as possible, to make you cum before he does. You are carried into the timing of his movements, and you begin to lift yourself up, leaning into your elbows, one still under my waist and the other behind my ass. I offer you soft-spoken encouragements, Yes, that’s right, let him in, ask him for more, ask him for more. As he pushes into you, your body transfers the motion through to me, and the arm you have between my thighs rubs urgently against my pussy, which responds by flooding. That wetness and the scent of my arousal are two more elements of your pleasure. The combination of all of this has you reeling, and, in time with his incursions, you murmur an echo of my words, speaking perhaps to me, or to him, or yourself: More, more.
I run my hands over your back, relishing the sheen of sweat that’s covering your skin, and look down the length of you to see that he’s taking you at your word. He’s pulled all the way out, and you open your eyes at this break in the pattern of motion and the sudden, curious feeling of emptiness. You feel his left hand leave your hip, and then his broad forearm is under your thigh, lifting you, pushing you forward and turning you slightly toward your right side. Your cock is no longer bound between your body and the mattress, and you feel the tightness in your balls and the weight of your hard shaft. You know that both he and I can see how hard it is as it bobs away from your stomach. He lifts your left knee up onto the bed, forcing your right shoulder down, and I twist and lean back to give you room. As he rolls you toward your right side, you have to pull your right arm from under me to support yourself, and your left arm is drawn forward from between my legs. Your hand and your eyes come to rest on my pussy, and when you curl your long fingers to give me a squeeze, two of them slip easily into my wet slit. My heart skips a beat as an orgasmic shudder radiates through my body, then you plant your hand on the bed, to hold yourself up.
This is our last breath, and we all sense it. I can’t see your face now, but I can see his, and I know he’s straining to keep himself from cumming. He has you at a new angle now, and when he is satisfied that he’s got the right leverage on you, he pushes forward and down with his full force to fuck you as hard as he can before he finishes. The change in position means a new set of sensations, and with the increased speed and aggression in his strokes, you feel your orgasm rising past the point of control, your balls tightening and rising, and your cock throbbing with pressure. You are groaning from the stiffness, and from the pounding fullness in your ass, and your sounds are louder with each thrust.
He can’t wait another second. The tight grip of your ass, the look of your face down on the mattress, the sight of your hardness, ready to cum—all of this is too much, and he lets go, cumming inside you with a long groan. He tightens his grip on you, and you feel his load shoot deep inside, the first surge, fluid and warm, and then a tremor. You know you will follow suit in a moment, and you reach down to hold your cock. I wish I could feel your orgasm, but settle for grasping your forearm as you add the pressure of your hand to the sensations that are gathering in you. He spasms and lets go another, smaller surge, and this time the shudder that follows his ejaculation is the last stimulation you can take, and you let yourself go with a long moan. The force of your orgasm is tremendous. Your whole body seems to be pumping the cum out of you, and you shudder continuously as your load shoots in waves. Some of it lands on my thighs, and I reach down to touch it as it lands. He pulls out of you, lets your leg down onto the bed, and steps back, breathless, to lean against the wall. I put my arms around you and hold you tight, amazed at how the feeling seems to be moving through your entire body. You empty the last of your cum, but the trembling aftershocks continue as your skin starts to cool and your breathing and heartbeat start to slow.
I lean back, pulling you with me. You pivot so that you’re lying face to face with me, and I hold you loosely, feeling the shudders that continue to pass through you, until you fall quiet. You keep your eyes closed as I wipe your brow with the backs of my fingers and run my hand down your side. I lean in and deposit a series of gentle kisses on your shoulder, tasting salt on your skin. You hear him rustling behind you, putting on his clothes. He points to the door to tell me he’s going to go, and you hear me quietly say, Okay, thanks. You realize that I must have asked him in advance to leave quickly. We both remain still, listening to him pad barefoot down the hall, and to the door opening and latching again behind him. We hear his car start and pull away.
You could pass for sleeping now, your eyes closed, muscles relaxed, and deep breaths making your chest steadily rise and fall. I know you’re awake, but assume that you want a little time alone with your thoughts. There’s a little space between us now, and we stay lying like this for quite a while. I study your face for any evidence that you might be upset, but find nothing, and have to bite my tongue to keep from asking you what you are feeling. I imagine you are replaying this encounter and measuring it against the fantasy that you’d first shared with me so many weeks ago. I turn over the details of all you’d told me, and consider the differences between the circumstances of your fantasy and those of this evening. When I entertain the possibility that you might be disappointed, a tightness seizes my chest, and I breathe in sharply and squeeze my eyes closed to try to put that idea away.
When I exhale and open my eyes again, I find you looking intently at my face. The sides of your mouth start to turn up in a sheepish smile, and, with relief, I smile back at you. You reach over and tuck my hair behind my ear, then, sliding your hand between my pillow and my neck, pull me in for a kiss. I close the distance between the lengths of our bodies, and you roll toward me, pressing tightly down on me, and slip your other arm around my waist. Your lips are firm on mine, and you lean into me. I part my lips and feel your tongue run across them, just inside my mouth. You press your tongue in to meet mine, and, as you take it away, you gently bite my lower lip. At that same moment, I feel your cock stir. Because you are so tall, the length of your erection is pressing along where my thighs meet, and the head is just at the lips of my cunt. A little flood of my juices escape, and you move your hips back and forth to show me that you felt it.
Between heavy breaths, we keep kissing, in turns deeply and playfully. I slide my hands down to your ass and squeeze, grinding my hips toward you, feeling the slippery wetness between my legs. You break our kiss and let out a soft laugh at my lack of subtlety. I have no choice but to laugh, too. You lean back a little, and I look down between us to see the lovely sight of your erect cock pressing into me. Just as I start to weigh my options, I feel your hand close over my right breast, and I let out a startled gasp of pleasure. You meet my eyes for just a second with another little smile, and then look back to my chest. You lean up on your right elbow and, still grasping my breast, push into me so that I lie flat on my back. I’m dismayed that I’ve lost contact with you below the waist, so I move to tilt my hips back toward you, but you pull on my tit and then take your hand away and use it to push my hip back down flat before returning it to my stiff, pink nipple, which you pinch, making me hiss with pleasure.
When I look back to your face, I see that my reaction has made you smile archly. Before I can make a response, you slide your hand over to my left breast and take hold, rolling over the nipple with your thumb. Now my only possible response is to arch my back and press my legs together as a surge of energy moves between my breast and my clit. Your long fingers cup and squeeze my flesh, and I run my hand up your arm to your tricep and pull you toward me to show you how much I appreciate your strong hand. You slide down and bow your head to my chest, guiding my right breast to your mouth. The cool wetness and the softness of your tongue is an electrifying contrast to your hands, and when you lick around my nipple then rake across it with your teeth, I arch up again to meet you with a sigh of arousal.
As you set to work on my other breast, you see that I am pressing my hips down into the mattress, moving back and forth to create the friction that will satisfy—at least in part— the hollow, aching desire that I feel in my pussy. I am so focused on the sensation of you licking and nibbling on my breasts and on the anticipation of your cock inside me that I am taken aback by the sound of your voice, when you ask me, Does that feel good? You know that my answer has to be yes, and just when I confirm, Yes, yes, you close your teeth on my nipple, making me moan loudly through the last word of my agreement. Hearing my own voice sounding so out of control only makes me feel more desperate to have your touch everywhere on me. As if you’ve read my mind, you give my breast one more rough pass with your tongue, then tell me, Sit up. I do so automatically, and you slide me forward, getting behind me so that I am sitting between your legs with my back to you. Lean back, you say, and I do. I am exhilarated at the feeling of your chest and stomach pressed into my back, supporting me, and at the feeling of your hard cock pressing into the top of my ass and my lower back. You put your arms under mine and run your hands from my breasts down my stomach and onto my thighs.
The backs of your hands together, you slide them between my legs, feeling how wet I am, and spread them apart. I lift my arms up over my head, reaching behind me to lay my hands on your hair, and you bow your head forward to kiss my neck. You feel the heat from my pussy as you hold my thighs open, and when your kisses make me sigh, you tighten your grip on my legs, unleashing another gush of my juices. I look down and watch as you slowly slide both of your thumbs over and slip them just inside my lips. The look and the feeling of this is overwhelming, and as I expel a trembling breath, I feel your hot breath in my ear and your cock throb against my back; I know that the sight is working on you, too. You use your thumbs to pull my lips apart, spreading them wide, and I feel a rush as my clit is exposed to the comparatively cool air of the room.
I can’t sit still with your hands on me this way, and as I begin to squirm, you feel the silky skin of my cunt rub across your thumbs, and my ass and back pressing against your hard dick. The friction makes your balls tighten and rise, and you remove your right hand from my thigh and run your fingers up the length of my slit. We both watch as your fingertips disappear inside my pussy, and when you run them up over my clit and then lift them up before us, they are covered in clear, slippery wetness. You bring your fingers to my face, and when you touch them to my lips, I open my mouth. My tongue feels warm on your fingertips when you press down on it, and I curl it around your fingers as I suck them clean. I drop my right arm down and close my hand over your wrist, holding your fingers in my mouth as I continue to run my tongue over them, tasting myself on you. Your cock responds, and when I feel you rock your hips forward, I do the same. Your breaths are heavy on my neck now, and each sends a shiver down my back.
I keep my hand on your wrist when you take it from my mouth and reach across me, forearm between my breasts, to rest it on my left shoulder. You move your left hand over and begin to rub my clit, your right arm holding me tight to you as my climax approaches and my hips start to buck. Just as my cunt begins to flow again, you pull my left shoulder away from you and roll us both over so that I am on my stomach and you are behind me, astride me on your knees. You grab my hips with both hands and haul me up onto my knees in front of you, my face pressed into the bed. Your right hand is gone, and in the next instant I feel the head of your cock, finally, wonderfully, entering me. I let out a long, low moan and push back at you, the soft vacuum of my pussy resisting the width of you and squeezing your shaft as you slide into me, prying my tight hole open and filling me up.
It is a long, slow pleasure as you move further and further inside of me, rolling your hips to complete your penetration, your balls touching my mound as I arch my back. Your cock completely wrapped in my warm pussy, you lean forward and run your hands down the length of my back, kneading my flesh and savoring the completeness of our connection, then bring them back to my hips again to hold me steady as you pull yourself out of me. Jarring me forward, your next thrust is fast and sure, and I cry out. You pull all the way back until just your head is in me, and you feel my cunt contract, trying to hold you there. Another full thrust with your weight behind it makes me cry out again, my neck straining as you drive into me.
The friction makes the muscles of your back tighten, and you are aware of the tenderness in your ass as it clenches, your balls lifting, your cock swelling and throbbing inside me. You know your own climax is not far off, and you establish a steady rhythm with your thrusts. I respond by pushing myself up onto my hands so that I can rock back to meet you. I hang my head between my arms, and it sways on my neck as you increase the speed of your assault, fucking me hard and fully, digging your hands into my hips and using all your strength to drag me back as you surge forward, again and again, the cum rising from your balls, the pressure setting off a tremble within your shaft, my groans becoming louder, all of these sensations synchronized in a frission that expands to encompass us both, all of our motion and sound and heat, until you can no longer hold back, and the cum explodes from your cock. I feel the first, long burst empty into me, and I let out a growl of excitement. You hold me firmly against you and lean forward, sliding one arm around my waist as your orgasm rolls forward, shivering through you, and in my climax, my pussy clenches and pulls on your shaft, drawing the cum out of you in a series of smaller shudders that leave you gasping, your face pressed into my back, your lips held tight against my skin.
When you have emptied yourself into me, and the tremors in your cock subside, and our breathing slows, you loosen your grasp on me, and kiss my back. I ease forward, feeling a pang inside my chest as we separate. I let myself down onto my stomach and roll partway onto my side, my pussy relaxing and releasing a trickle of your cum, which runs between my legs. You collapse down beside me and rest your hand on my ass, stroking my skin softly. We lie there silently, our sweat drying, as our skin cools and tingles. When I feel goosebumps start to rise, I angle myself over the edge of the mattress and find a blanket that had fallen to the floor, then roll back toward you, pulling it over us both. We stretch and shift and come to rest nestled together, you behind me with one arm around me. As the warmth of the blanket and your embrace starts to make my eyelids drop, a series of images pass before my eyes: you at the station, the raw emotion I’d witnessed on your face, you spread out on my bed, your orgasm, your hand covered in my wetness. I hear you breathing evenly at my back, and think you might be asleep, but I whisper to you, though you know it already, I’m so glad you came.
As I fall asleep, my last thoughts are about tomorrow morning. I’ll make us breakfast, then drive you back to your hotel. I am already imagining the moment when I pull away from you as you stand on the curb. I wonder if I will ever see you, or even talk to you, again. I let my mind circle on that melancholy thought as I drift off, for now, at least, in your arms.