‘Is that—’
‘Yes... Oh God, yes...’
She was so overwhelmed with the need to come that, despite her best intentions, she couldn’t wait for him to do it, to slowly learn how: but if I push him away he’ll be mortified, she knew. I can’t make him feel rejected...
‘Shall I show you how I do it?’ she asked, thinking quickly. ‘How I make myself come?’
Jon nodded so fast that his face blurred momentarily; his lips parted but he couldn’t get a word out, the idea excited him so much. He propped himself up on the bed pillows, one hand shyly returning to stroke her breasts, his breath coming quick and shallow as Aniela started to work on herself, slipping her fingers inside herself, moistening them, then dragging them back out to stroke her wet cleft, making little circles, faster and faster, her hips bucking against her fingers.
She grabbed Jon’s hand, which was much too gentle now, squeezing it around her breast, her back arching to push herself further into his palm, and felt her eyes rolling back in her skull, her lids closing, her head arching back too as she started to make the noises that meant she was about to come. Aniela had never been embarrassed about the human body; her family were all blunt and direct, never using a euphemism where a straightforward word would do instead, and her years of nursing had obliterated any stray fragments of shyness that might be trailing around her psyche. The idea that a man might be put off by her face, her cries, when she reached orgasm would never have occurred to her; she would have burst out laughing if another woman had confessed to her that she was worried about looking pretty in the throes of sex.
So she was quite unselfconscious as her voice dropped, becoming almost guttural, sounds flooding out from deep in her throat, one hand thrumming between her legs, the other still tight around Jon’s, as the orgasm hit her with full force, release streaming through her, one spasm after the other, like a series of electric shocks. She could still feel Jon’s cock inside her, still remember the sensations that she had felt when he fucked her, and that sent her even further over the edge, dropping down to a long soft landing. Her hands loosened, fell away, and she lay there, eyes still closed, her chest rising and falling, feeling as if her face was suffused with blood, burning hot, burning up...
Beside her, Jon shifted, his fingers sliding between her legs, making her jump. She was overstimulated, almost wanted a moment to recover, and she was about to tell him so, to ask him to wait a moment or two; but then the sensation of his fingers inside her became so overwhelming that she turned towards him, put her arms around his neck and clung to him again in mute encouragement. Dazedly, she thought that she was already beyond anything she’d ever experienced before, that maybe there was no such thing in this new world as overstimulation, that she should just let go completely, that she could certainly trust him to be strong enough to catch her...
He pulled his fingers out to the tips, sliding them up to her swollen centre as she had done, copying the movements he had watched her do, and the next second Aniela heard herself groaning again, gasping for breath, her hips pumping into his fingers, coming over them; they were lying facing each other, and as Jon started to make her come he kissed her, his tongue driving into her mouth now so confidently that she would never have recognised him as the man who had been so tentative with her yesterday, or even in the hall a little while ago. His tongue in her mouth, her own kissing him back eagerly, his fingers inside her, it was as if she were completely suffused with sensation, as if she were coming not only between her legs but all over her skin, the orgasms spreading and spreading like heat pouring out from her core and over her entire body.
Elated with the power he had, his success at this new skill, Jon didn’t stop for what felt like a very long time. Aniela could feel his cock between them, her hips rocking against it – nothing, she thought, her head swirling, no feeling better in the world than a man’s dick that’s this hard for you, nothing better in the world – but his control was amazing, his ability to keep making her come exceptional. Unlike every other man she had been with – and that’s not many, so what would I know? – Jon had worked out almost immediately that less was more. By this stage, he was simply flicking his thumb lightly around her clitoris to make her explode to climax. Aniela had the sense that he was experimenting now, as if she were a toy he was playing with, like a little boy with a top he was spinning, sending in circles, pushing to see what he could do with it next.
When he stopped kissing her and whispered something against her mouth, she couldn’t even hear the words for the crashing pumping of her heart, the blood racing through her veins; without waiting for an answer, she felt him lying back, stripping off his thermal top and his boxers, now both soaked with sweat. His hands closed round her hips, lifting her as effortlessly as always, settling her over him. His cock was so hard and springy that it found its way into her without either of them having to touch it; it ran between her legs, paused over her wetness and then plunged deep, making her scream, her hands braced on his arms.
His whole body tensed, immobilised, as if they were playing an X-rated version of Musical Statues.
‘Is it—’
‘Yes! Yes! It’s good!’
‘You just screamed so loudly—’
‘It’s good!’
Aniela looked down at him, at the torso that had made her heart stop and her eyes widen in disbelief and admiration the moment she had seen him, bare to the waist, just a couple of days ago, opening the door to this apartment, his sweatpants hanging loosely on his narrow hips, his chest lightly filmed with sweat. Then, she’d averted her gaze after a brief, incredulous stare; now she could gaze at him all she wanted, at the red-gold hair on his chest, its pattern interrupted by a couple of fading white scars that slashed across his torso, the hair narrowing to a darker, coppery line that led down his stomach, his belly button almost flat to his abs, the hair starting again after it, darkening and deepening into a deep rusty tangle.
‘Just a couple of days ago,’ she marvelled, raising her eyes to meet his. ‘We just met a couple of days ago.’
He was propped up on a couple of pillows, looking at her naked body just as intently as she was surveying his; she was hugely grateful that she had shaved her legs that morning. His hands were behind his head, his triceps so big and swollen in that position that once her attention was called to them she couldn’t look away. He cleared his throat.
‘Is that – is that normal?’ he asked.
Aniela frowned, not understanding.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘Is it—’ His stare dropped to her small breasts now, not wanting to meet her eyes. ‘I mean, I felt really – when you came in, two days ago, I felt really easy with you.’
‘Easy,’ she repeated in disappointment.
‘Aniela—’ He sat up with a swift flexing of his abs, driving his cock at a sharper angle inside her, making her gasp with pleasure and momentarily lose track of anything else. ‘I never feel easy with anyone.’
‘Really?’ She felt herself flush with pleasure.
‘Really,’ he said simply.
‘What did you mean, normal?’ she asked.
It was becoming increasingly hard – difficult, she corrected herself quickly so she didn’t completely lose it, difficult – to focus on what he was saying. But she knew, with absolute instinct, that if she didn’t, she would miss something very important. Jon was like no other man she had ever met, or ever would, a man who was able to have a serious conversation while still maintaining a rock-like erection inside her. To ask her a question that obviously meant a lot to him. She needed to concentrate on the answer. After all, his hard dick obviously wasn’t going away.
‘I don’t have much – I haven’t much – at all—’ He cleared his throat again. ‘You’re the first – not the first, but—’
He was looking even more intently at her breasts. Well, they’re small, but at least they’re not saggy, she thought with relief.
‘I haven�
�t really, ever, what you’d call dated – well, what I’d call dated, you don’t say that really in the UK.’ He was almost babbling now. ‘So I don’t know if this is normal.’
‘Does it feel normal?’
Aniela allowed herself to lift up, just slightly, and then push down, taking his whole length into her again. Jon shuddered in pleasure.
‘It feels a lot better than normal,’ he said.
‘Does it feel better than when you’ve had sex before?’ she asked, greatly daring, rising higher up, pushing back down more strongly. His tip butted against her cervix eagerly, a moan issuing from his lips.
‘It feels better than anything before,’ he said honestly. He looked up now, and she could see how earnest his eyes were. ‘Aniela—’ He swallowed. ‘I’ve only ever paid for it before.’
‘What?’
She hung suspended for a moment, impaled on him, unable to take in what he had just said. And then she burst out laughing. The laughter rippled all up and down her, making her body sway and rock, sending tiny spasms through her clitoris, rubbing against his rough curls of pubic hair, a delicious tickling sensation. She threw her head back and laughed her head off. When she finally managed to catch her breath, he said blankly:
‘I didn’t think you’d laugh.’
‘It’s just...’ She was still giggling.
‘I’m completely clean,’ he said anxiously. ‘Fully tested. I promise. And the women were all – you know, willing. Not trafficked. Nothing like that.’
‘Oh good!’ She shook her head in disbelief.
‘So why did you laugh?’
Aniela shook her head again.
‘Look at you,’ she said. ‘Why would you ever have to pay for sex? It’s crazy! You’re crazy!’
And yes, you have the best body I or almost anyone else will ever have seen in their life – but even if you didn’t, anyone with a cock like this should never have to pay for sex, she thought, unable to resist moving any longer, beginning to describe circles with her hips, sighing at how good it felt. She realised that Jon was still staring at her incredulously.
‘No,’ she panted. ‘This isn’t normal.’
And then she screamed again, because he had lain back on his pillows and was fucking her from below. This, definitely, a hundred per cent, was not normal. Lubo had just lain there when she got on top; sometimes she’d even suspected him of watching the TV over her shoulder, the sliver of the screen that he could see through the open bedroom door, into the living room. He might as well have been a dildo I nailed to the mattress, Aniela thought, another crazy giggle rising up inside her. I had to do all the work myself. And I didn’t even mind that much, because it was better than having Lubo’s fat, hairy stomach smacking against me, and he lasted longer that way.
But this...
Jon was flexing his hips, each pelvic thrust slamming his cock up inside her; it was like sitting on a pile driver. Aniela screamed and leant forward to grab his shoulders and held on for dear life as her entire body juddered with delight. He had realised by now that her screams – at least this kind – were to be interpreted positively, and he seemed to be trying to provoke more and more of them: if that was his goal, he was succeeding, because Aniela, by now, was screaming her head off in ecstasy and disbelief. She ground herself back against him, and Jon responded eagerly, tilting his hips at more of an angle, sliding out a little each time and then back in again, slick and hard and lubricated.
And she realised, with great pleasure, that he was beginning to make noise too. Before, he had been completely silent apart from his panting breath; now, he was starting to grunt in time with his strokes. He grabbed her hands from his shoulders and held them up, his arms bracing easily, taking the weight of her torso, the hair in his armpits damp rust-red, the skin of his chest flushing, beads of sweat standing out in his chest hair.
‘Be careful of your face!’ Aniela exclaimed, seeing it go redder as his strokes grew faster and more frenzied.
‘Too... late... now!’ he panted, and his hands around hers tightened, pulling her towards him, pulling her off him, tumbling onto his chest, not a moment too soon, as behind her his cock spurted into the air a stream of hot milky come, a long, blissful, final grunt of complete satisfaction issuing from his lips.
‘Ah, God,’ he moaned, rolling her to the side, his arm falling over her, pulling her next to him. ‘Ah,God, that was so fucking good... fuck... ’
‘But was it normal?’ Aniela asked into his shoulder, licking his sweat, pushing her body in utter contentment against his.
He huffed out a laugh, his arm heavy around her. ‘You make me come like a geyser,’ he said. ‘That was amazing. I feel like I took LSD or something.’
‘What’s a geyser?’
‘American hot springs,’ he said drowsily. ‘Bigger than anything you’ve seen in Europe.’
Aniela smiled.
‘Everything in America seems bigger than anything I’ve seen in Europe,’ Aniela said, still throbbing all over from the aftermath of sex.
‘Did any get on you?’ he said anxiously, reaching for a pillow, ripping off the case and wiping himself and the wet patch down with it.
‘It’s not acid, you know,’ Aniela said, kissing his shoulder now, tracing her finger in awe down the line where the muscle separated. ‘It won’t burn me.’
Jon tilted his head to look at her face. ‘Are you okay about what I said?’ His mouth twisted in an embarrassed grimace. ‘You know—’ He pushed ahead bravely. ‘About the prostitutes.’
‘It’s not my business,’ Aniela said. ‘I mean, you said they were willing, not trafficked—’
‘Oh yes! They were very nice girls – well, you know what I mean. And they—’ He broke off. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.’
Aniela reached up to stroke his hair.
‘How does your face feel?’ she asked. ‘Does anything feel strained, or painful?’
‘Are you kidding?’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘I never felt better.’ He paused. ‘Will you stay the night?’
She smiled. ‘In case you need medical attention?’
But Jon was too serious a person to pick up on the opportunity to make light of his request: he said what he meant and meant what he said.
‘No,’ he said simply. ‘I just want you to stay the night.’
Warmth enveloped Aniela as if he’d drawn the duvet round her. It would have been so easy for him to pick up on her cue, to joke with her instead of making a straightforward declaration of his feelings.
‘The mattress is very comfortable,’ he added solemnly.
‘Oh, good,’ she said, not quite sure what he meant by this.
‘It has a mattress topper,’ he went on. ‘You can feel it, right? It’s really nice.’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly, though all she could concentrate on was Jon, how his naked body felt against hers, his scent, the freckles on his arms. ‘It’s really nice.’
‘Well, okay. I’m glad you like it.’
He picked up the remote control and turned off the lights.
‘Is the heat okay for you?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it’s fine,’ Aniela said, beginning to realise that he had never slept the night with a woman before, and that he took his new responsibilities as a host very seriously. ‘Lovely,’ she added, hoping that he would stop soon.
‘I’ll get the duvet – here – you should cover up—’
They wriggled the duvet out from under them, pulling it up; Aniela snuggled back against Jon, still unable to believe that she got to lie next to a man with a body like his. It’s shallow of me, she knew, but can’t I take some pleasure in that? Aren’t I allowed, after years with Lubo and his big hairy bottom, to enjoy having had sex with a man like this? She examined her conscience, and found it clear. Even if this is just a one-off, if this never happens again, I’ve had sex with the most amazing man I’ve ever met.
Because it probably won’t happen again. His face will heal and he�
��ll disappear, to wherever mysterious men who have complete facial reconstructive surgery go. If I’m lucky, we’ll have an affair while he’s here. I’ll get to have the best sex in my life a few more times. And I’ll remember it for ever.
Next to her, Jon let out a deep yawn of release.
‘I have to buy some condoms,’ he said sleepily.
‘I expect the prostitutes always brought them,’ she said, but her heart rose as she thought: that means for me. For us, to have sex more while he’s here.
‘They did,’ he said seriously. ‘They’re pretty keen on condoms. What kind should I get?’
‘Extra large,’ she said, giggling.
‘Don’t tease me,’ he said, but he was laughing too. ‘Seriously, what kind? It was really hard to pull out in time. I don’t know how people do that.’
‘They don’t,’ she said sleepily. ‘They get pregnant, or STDs.’ A sudden thought occurred to her. ‘You mean you never – even when you were a teenager – you really mean you never had sex without a condom and had to pull out?’
‘Uh-uh,’ he said, turning on his side, pushing her gently so she did too and he could spoon her. ‘Oh, this is nice,’ he said contentedly, as he fitted his soft penis and balls against her bottom, his feet finding and twining around hers. ‘I thought it would be.’
‘You haven’t—’ He is like Starman, Aniela thought in wonder. He’s like some sort of virgin from outer space. ‘What planet do you come from?’ she couldn’t help asking.
‘Appalachia,’ he said, with a glimmer of humour in his voice. ‘Ever heard of it?’
She shook her head, and then felt him stroking her hair, smoothing it into a skein over her shoulder as he’d done before.
‘Pretty,’ he said drowsily. ‘Pretty hair. Soft.’
There was a clock by the bedside, its dial illuminated: it was past one in the morning. Aniela realised what that meant.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she said softly.
Jon’s hand slowed on her hair.
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