She knew it was coming. They had talked about it enough - in vague conversations at first, where she had gathered a handful of likes and dislikes and devised a few ideas. The more they talked about it, the more the entire thing felt inevitable. So as the talk lost the vague and became more concrete, conversations became propositions. She had said no when she had thought yes. But the time for that was over. So lying there on his bed, his parents asleep on the floor below, she knew it was coming.
If he was trying to be subtle, he wasn’t very good at it. He had propped up the knee closest to her, and his eyes were locked on the movie they had chosen, but what his left hand was stroking could not have been more obvious. Was he waiting for her to say something or to take matters into her own hands? Was he trying to work up the nerve to say something to her? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she would wait until he spoke up. She kept her eyes on the TV – mostly – and did her best to hide her smirk.
Finally, she heard his voice, just above a whisper. ‘So…d’ya wanna?’ ‘Yeah, let me go to the bathroom first.’ She left him lying here, retreated to her own bathroom, and looked in the mirror for just a second. She walked back to his closed door and paused. In the many times she had thought about this moment, she had anticipated needing to mentally prepare herself. She expected to be a bundle of nerves and knots. But she wasn’t. It just felt like it was supposed to be happening, and she knew she wouldn’t back out now. She didn’t want to. She took a deep breath, walked in the room, and closed the door behind her.
She sat on the bed next to him, eyes on the movie, arms touching. The contact felt invasive somehow, which almost made her laugh considering the contact they had in mind. She had no desire to undress him – how odd would that be with him lying down? – so she turned to him. ‘Are you going to take off your pants?’ It came out way more confident than she felt. He awkwardly chuckled a ‘yeah’, disrobed his lower half, and let out a little hiss and squeezed his eyes shut as she saw him for the first time. He was stroking himself. She moved his hand, gently grazed his balls with her fingertips, and grasped his penis. She leaned over and licked his length. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lean his head back at her touch. She couldn’t really believe she was doing what she was doing, but it took about 5 seconds to realize something. She really liked it. His hand was on her back, her ass, her chest, as she began to explore him with her tongue. After a minute (or maybe more, she had lost a sense of time), he took himself into his hand again and got up. She thought she did something wrong. She sat up. He relocated to the end of the bed and turned to her. ‘Come here’, he said. She knelt on the floor in front of him and started again.
She noticed that there was a mirror on the wall across from her. At first it felt strange to see herself mouthing him. Then she realized how hot it made her. She would glance over for a second or two to watch herself – to watch them – but she was far more focused on watching his reactions to her. She could hear the movie that was on, but it had become just noise. Her attention was focused solely on the man she was pleasing. His hands were wandering again, and without thinking, she was suddenly shirtless. She wasn’t ashamed to be so, which surprised her. The bra followed shortly after. Her hands were constantly roaming, feeling, squeezing. Her mouth was equally occupied. She heard him moan, sigh, and hiss occasionally, but her favorite sound was a low ‘fuck’ that came out more as a growl.
She looked up at him occasionally, seeing his head bowed, watching, or his eyes closed, just enjoying. His hands rested on her. She came to another realization as she glanced up at him. She felt powerful in this position. She was in control. She could make him moan and cuss and throw his head back. It was fun. It was a rush. And God did she like it. Why did people complain about doing this? If the guy she was with wanted her to do this every day, she’d be more than eager to oblige.
He took over for her again. She thought maybe she wasn’t good enough – incapable of satisfying him – which hurt her in the moment because she was enjoying herself so much. She was afraid he was going to tell her he was done trying. She wondered if he could tell she had never done this before. The nerves kicked in then. She felt so immature and naïve – how could she possibly be good? How stupid was she for believing she could do this well enough for him? But she wanted to keep trying unless he said to stop. From then on, when he wanted to take over, she kept her hands and tongue busy elsewhere.
He stood up at one point, held her face, and started to thrust. She knew it was coming, but she couldn’t control her gag reflex. She wanted to let him, and she wished she could give him what she knew he wanted. The few thrusts she did feel in her mouth, though, had her wetter than she had ever been. He realized it wasn’t going to work and sat back down. She returned to licking, stroking and sucking. She hoped it made up for not being able to take him as deep as he wanted. When he needed to touch himself again, she used it as time to explore other areas. She stuck out her tongue and flicked his tip as he stroked. His hand moved so fast. She wanted to feel him inside of her more than she had known she could crave something.
She had tossed her glasses across the floor. They were in her way. When he stood again, she knew he was close. She tilted her head back, grabbed his thighs, and waited. She saw the first rope coming. Her tongue was out, eyes closed. He moaned as she felt him cover her face, and then he collapsed. She licked him clean, and licked what she could reach on her face. Once he had regained his strength, he sat up. ‘I’ll get you a towel.’ She nodded and watched his naked ass – he still had on his shirt – walk into his bathroom. She tried to straighten her legs. Her knees were stiff, and she knew she’d have a limp when she stood.
He returned and handed her a towel. She wiped off her face. She stood to clean up as he found his pants. As she washed her face, she looked in the mirror. ‘Well, that happened; I hope it was alright.’ She finished up, found her glasses, and tried to untangle her shirt. They climbed back into bed, back to not touching. He thanked her. She found that odd. They watched the final scenes of the movie. Soon after, they fell asleep. When she awoke an hour later, she returned to her room.
Upon waking the next morning, she felt something dried in her hair just above her forehead. She got up and took a shower.
9.6.12 12:50am
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