The Bedroom Experiment

by Ryan, Kendall

  “I love llamas,” she says when she catches me looking at it.

  “Who doesn’t?” I grin at her, not hiding the amusement lingering on my words.

  “You’re making fun of me again,” she says, lips pursed.

  “Llamas are mean as shit. Everyone knows that.”

  “They’re not mean,” she defends. “Look how cute he is in the picture.”

  There is absolutely nothing cute about llamas. It actually looks mean. I shrug. “I’ve heard they spit on people.”

  She waves off my comment as if I’ve lost my mind before sitting on the bed across from me and crisscrosses her legs. I see a peek of her pale pink panties and quickly pull my gaze away. Jesus, Morgan, focus.

  “So.” She straightens her posture like she’s a star pupil vying for the teacher’s attention. “As I was saying before. I think one of the reasons Tyler broke up with me was because I never made him come.”

  Fucking hell, we are going straight into I see. I grit my teeth together. “Right.”

  She smiles. “I mean, I tried. Trust me, I did. With my hands and my mouth.” But then she shakes her head, her smile falling away. “Not with my pussy though. I was saving it, as I mentioned, for Valentine’s Day.”

  I’ve died and gone to heaven. Or maybe this is hell? Because Isla is talking about using her hands and her pussy to get off her dickless ex and I want nothing more than to push her back on the bed and show her how easy it would be to make me come, in spite of my release not even fifteen minutes ago.

  Goddamn it! Focus, Morgan. This is not about you or your dick.

  I clear my throat, realizing she’s waiting for me to say something—to impart some wisdom that will make sense of this crazy exchange between us.

  “Right. Well, it’s generally just a matter of pressure and speed.” I’m thankful my voice sounds steady and composed, so I continue. “All guys are a little bit different, I’d imagine. But the idea is the same. You just need to communicate—find out what he likes and what feels good. Honestly, in my opinion, he should have just shown you. He sounds like kind of an asshole, leaving you to guess like that.”

  At this, she chuckles, her cheeks flushing the slightest bit. “Yeah… maybe.”

  “Maybe he had something wrong with him physically, Isla. Maybe it wasn’t you at all.”

  She puts her fingertip on her lips. “Hm. I never thought of that.”

  I nod. “You never know.” The guy sounds like a fucking douche, that’s for certain. Isla is sweet, and kind, and beautiful. And she was willing to give him her virginity. I’m suddenly glad she didn’t. Not that it’s any of my business who she chooses to sleep with and give that precious gift to.

  She’s quiet for a minute, and I can’t help the next words that fall out of my mouth. “Did he ever get you off?”

  Those stormy blue eyes latch onto mine, and something inside me twists when she utters her next word.

  “No.”

  It’s not even really a word, more a breathless sound she makes. And I feel it all the way down in the pit of my stomach.

  My throat feels tight, and I draw a slow, shallow breath while my heartbeat drums out a steady rhythm inside my chest. “Have you ever had an orgasm, Isla?”

  She nods. “With myself, yes. Never with anyone else. I think I get too self-conscious or something.”

  Damn. The idea of her making herself come is the hottest thing ever and I know for certain that it’s going to feature highly in my jack off reel for years to come. “It could have been the same for him. Maybe he was just nervous.” I can’t believe I’m making excuses for this dickhead.

  “But you don’t have that problem,” Isla says, voice soft.

  She meets my eyes again, this time with a hungry look.

  Hungry for knowledge, Morgan, not your dick.

  Get your head in the game.

  “Sex has always kind of come naturally for me,” I admit with a shrug, desperate to bring back some casualness to the conversation because it feels like we’re skating close to dangerous territory.

  She chews on her lower lip, considering this. “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

  I consider blowing off her question, but she’s been so open and honest tonight, I can’t bring myself to lie to her.

  “Fifteen,” I admit.

  “Wow!” She laughs, and her eyes sparkle yet again. “Holy shit, Mor.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah. Freshman year of high school.” I also lasted all of about three seconds, but I don’t think I need to be quite that honest with her right now.

  Things grow quiet between us, so quiet that I can hear the steady thrum of her heartbeat as she sits across from me, I can see her pulse racing against her neck.

  She pushes out her tits as she shifts on the bed, and fuck, I want them in my hands. In my mouth. Against my chest.

  My gaze drifts down to the front of her parted legs again and I catch another glimpse of her panties. I can’t help but wonder if the conversation we’re having has made her wet right now.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Of course it’s not. We’re just talking.

  So why is my dick all perked up in interest and already half hard?

  Good fucking question.

  “Morgan?” She raises up onto her knees and crawls closer to me until she places one hand flat against my chest. I can feel the heat of her skin searing me through the thin material of my T-shirt. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

  “Why’s that?” I ask, voice husky.

  “Because I want to try something, okay?”

  I don’t answer. I don’t move. I don’t even fucking breathe as she lowers her plump mouth to mine and leans in for a chaste kiss.

  I don’t respond right away, mostly because I’m completely stunned. But then Isla parts her lips and teases the seam of mine with her tongue. It’s instinct when my lips part and I touch my tongue to hers.

  She lets out a low groan, and I deepen the kiss, threading my fingers through the silky hair at the back of her neck.

  Then my brain snaps back on and I pull away, heart pounding and cock throbbing. “We can’t.”

  She nods. “I know. I just wanted to see what it was like to kiss you.”

  “Why?” My brows crease.

  Isla licks her lips, her tongue touching where mine just was, and I feel a sudden pang of jealousy. “Because I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to be with a guy who knew what he was doing. And I can tell you do.”

  She’s not wrong. I know I could make her come. Probably in the next three minutes if I wanted to. But I won’t. Some lines cannot be crossed, no matter how close we’re skating to the edge.

  “Can you just tell me a little bit more about what you meant before about pressure… speed… I need to know how to make a guy come next time.”

  My eyes sink closed and I draw a frustrated breath. “Why don’t you just watch a porn video or something?”

  Isla shrugs. “I have. But I want some hands-on practice with an actual person so when the time comes I don’t look like some inexperienced idiot.”

  My cock hardens fully, thickening against my thigh, and I pray she doesn’t notice that the motherfucker is practically standing at attention, volunteering as tribute.

  And then everything changes with the next words out of my mouth and it’s clear that I’ve officially lost my fucking mind.

  “One time Isla, and this never happens again. You got it?” My voice sounds way too low and gruff for my liking but fuck it.

  Her eyes go wide as she realizes exactly what I’m offering.

  “Yes, absolutely. Deal.” She grins like she just won the fucking lottery.

  3

  * * *

  Morgan

  Before I can reconsider, I draw my shorts down my hips and my cock springs free. Isla sucks in a sharp inhale, her eyes glued to my crotch. I stand here like a statue, unable to move, unable to even breathe, except for the shaking, halted gasps leaving my l
ungs.

  “Oh, it’s…”

  She doesn’t finish that sentence, but what she does do makes my toes curl. Running her palm lightly against my steely shaft, she traces her thumb along the crown.

  Jesus.

  “How do I…” she starts.

  “Wrap it in your fist.” If I’d been uneasy at first, you wouldn’t know it. My voice comes out rough and commanding, and like a good little student, Isla aims to please, curling her hand around me firmly. Even tentative, her touch sends heat rioting through my veins. One simple touch shouldn’t feel this good. But holy shit…

  I force a deep breath into my lungs, and then I wrap my hand around hers and demonstrate the motion, sliding slowly up, then down. “Like this,” I say, voice a harsh pant.

  She smiles at me shyly before those stormy eyes drop to my lap again. I try to see what she’s seeing—eight inches of swollen flesh pulses crudely inside her small fist. It’s obscene. And erotic. And hot as fuck.

  “It’s so much bigger than…” She grins, wickedly. “Never mind. I’ll stop talking now.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale as her movements grow faster.

  It feels so good.

  “That’s it,” I encourage, my voice little more than a soft murmur. She meets my eyes with an appreciative expression.

  Before I can process what’s happening next, Isla lowers her head to my lap.

  A helpless eager noise pushes past my lips just as her tongue licks along the vein in my shaft.

  I watch in stunned fascination as she holds onto my cock and licks it like it’s her favorite flavor lollipop. One long teasing lick along the crown, another slow lick down the side. A hot shiver rolls through me.

  It’s fucking torture.

  The best kind of torture.

  I grip the comforter in both fists, dropping back onto my elbows so I can watch her work me over.

  She takes her time, tasting me shyly. It’s nice, but I want more. “Swallow it.”

  Her eyes snap up to mine, filled with questions.

  “The whole thing,” I say.

  She obeys, pushing her head down until I touch the back of her throat and she gags lightly around my length, withdrawing slowly.

  I curse and take a shaky breath.

  “Like that?” she asks, coming up for air.

  There’s a smear of spit on her lower lip and I wipe it away with my thumb. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

  “And that would make you come?”

  So fucking hard. “Yes.”

  “Even though I gagged?”

  Especially because you gagged. What the fuck is wrong with me that I like choking her with my dick?

  “Yes, Isla.”

  She goes back to work, lowering her mouth to my cock again, sucking me with such prideful determination it makes my abs tighten.

  Unable to resist touching her tempting body any longer, I bring one hand under her sweatshirt and cup her warm tits in my hand. They’re bare and bouncing slightly with the motion of her movements. I tease and pinch her nipples as she sucks on my cock, earning me a whimpered moan that I feel deep in my balls.

  She lifts her eyes to mine and the pleasure I see reflected back at me makes my heart stutter. “If you come, do I swallow it… or?”

  For a second, I just stare at her. I want to say something flirty like spitters are quitters, but fuck, I can’t do that. This is Isla. I’m already going to hell.

  “I can’t let you make me come.”

  “Can’t let me? Why in the world not? Isn’t that the entire point?” Her hand doesn’t stop its torment, slowly dragging up and down over my swollen cock. It feels incredible. “I told you I didn’t know how to please my boyfriend and he broke up with me over it.”

  Fuck. She’s right. That was the entire point of this erotic experiment. She said she wanted practice. I stupidly agreed to be her guinea pig.

  “Trust me, I’m close. You keep doing that, and I’m going to blow,” I force out, a little breathless.

  She looks pleased with herself, a slight smile forming on those beautiful full lips of hers.

  I skim my fingers along the side of her breast.

  “Fuck, Isla,” I groan, watching the way her hand moves. Her fist doesn’t even fully close around my thick shaft, and her thumb teases the pre-cum at the tip on each upstroke. Desperate horny noises escape the back of my throat and I fight off a shiver. I’m close. So close.

  “Fuck, fuck,” I heave, pushing her hand out of the way to finish myself with short, jolting strokes as thick spurts pulse out, coating my hand and lower abs.

  “Oh,” Isla inhales, bringing her fingertip to the warm mess on my stomach and painting a distracting-as-fuck figure-eight through it. “It’s so messy,” she murmurs, voice full of teasing pride.

  “Be right back,” I say, jumping up from the bed. I head into the adjoining bathroom and grab a wad of tissue which I use to clean myself up. Then I wash my hands and dry them on one of her towels.

  When I join her on the bed again, Isla has removed her shirt and all my resolve about stopping this weakens.

  “Jesus,” I groan, running one hand through my hair.

  Her tits are perfect, high and perky with pale peach-colored nipples. Isla makes room on the bed beside her and I sit down right next to her. “You’re beautiful,” I say, softly touching the bare skin of her shoulder. I still can’t believe she’s offering herself up this way, and my hands drift lower. Her breasts are so full in my palms, and as I massage them, she makes a surprised noise of pleasure. What I really want to do is nuzzle them with my face, and suck them into my mouth, but I’m still testing the waters and trying to make myself go slow.

  Her knees part, her legs dropping open, and I have little doubt about what she wants next. But still, I need her to vocalize it, because this is pretty fucked up. Even for me.

  “Are you sure you want this?” I ask, tracking one fingertip lightly over her bare thigh.

  Little chill-bumps break out over her skin.

  She nods, eager. “So much.”

  “Take off your shorts and panties,” I say.

  She wastes no time stripping down and then sits back down on the bed beside me. Isla is now naked while I’m once again fully clothed.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She does and the sight makes my mouth water. She’s pink and flushed with arousal—her gorgeous pussy is wet—and I want to bury my face in it.

  But I don’t.

  I can’t.

  Can I?

  Shit.

  “How do you make yourself come?” I ask, fighting for control.

  She bites her lip, and I wonder if she’s going to answer. She’s probably too shy. But then, rather than tell me, Isla shows me. Placing the pads of her fingers against her clit, she begins a slow erotic massage. “I touch myself right here,” she says, voice choppy.

  My brain almost short-circuits. Jesus, that’s hot.

  “That’s good. It’s important to know what you like, what feels good.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

  I watch, breathless, as her fingers move faster, rubbing herself.

  Leaning forward, I capture one perky nipple in my mouth and give it a long tug. Isla whimpers, her hips bucking wildly.

  I nuzzle and kiss and lightly bite both breasts as she works herself toward orgasm.

  My hands move up and down over her firm thighs, but I don’t touch between her legs. I just keep worshipping her breasts with my mouth until she’s close, and then I move her hand out of the way. Her eyes snap open in confusion. I bring her fingertips to my mouth and suck them clean. She tastes so sweet, my cock starts to harden again.

  Using my thumbs, I part her and touch her with soft strokes, with the same pressure I know she likes, thanks to her erotic demonstration.

  Isla’s hips rock, and throaty cries fall from her lips. I won’t let myself penetrate her. I have no right to know how tight and perfect she’d feel around my fingers, but I am going to
be the one to make her come.

  A few more seconds, and she starts to unravel, her body twitching and tightening as she moans out my name. Her orgasm crashes through her, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  4

  * * *

  Morgan

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask once she’s dressed again. After our little experiment where I learned that not only can Isla definitely one-hundred percent make a man come but she also looks fucking incredible when she comes undone, she’d gone to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and then climbed into bed.

  She nods from her pillow where I’ve tucked her in with the fluffy blanket pulled up to her chin. “I’m sleepy.” She lets out a huge yawn and I chuckle.

  Post-orgasmic bliss looks good on her.

  This whole situation should probably feel strange. It should feel all kinds of wrong and taboo, but the thing is, it just doesn’t. I keep waiting for it to hit me, just like I keep waiting for her to freak out. But she looks content, complete and utterly content and satisfied.

  I take a step back and turn off the lamp. The dim hallway light provides just enough lighting to illuminate the room. Standing at the side of her bed, I look down at her and hesitate.

  “Are you sure you feel okay about everything that happened?”

  Isla smile is soft as she stares up at me, nodding. “I’m happy and totally okay. Thanks for tonight, Morgan, it meant a lot to me.”

  Something tightens in my chest as I watch her curl into the pillow, releasing a sleepy exhale as she snuggles deeper into her bed.

  “Let’s talk in the morning, okay?”

  She nods. “Can we go out for pancakes?”

  I chuckle, completely fucking relieved that she’s not upset or regretting that things went too far between us tonight. “Of course we can.”

  “And bacon?” she asks, sleepily.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.” I chuckle.

  Isla grins. “Goodnight Morgan,” she says, turning on her side.