The Boyfriend Experience

by JA Huss

  I turn and look out at the city. Wondering who can see this. Wondering if people who look out at my water tower every night are looking out at it right now thinking, Well, damn. That’s fuckin’ awesome.

  Because that’s exactly what I’m thinking.

  Lawton Ayers has blown me away.

  I turn back to him and he says, “I got pizza too. So we can eat. It’s good cold, so I figured—”

  And that’s when I walk up to him, grab his face in my hands, and kiss him. Right on the mouth.

  He kisses me back, our tongues doing that sweet, familiar dance again. His hands go to my arms, grip my shoulders tightly as the kiss grows. Becomes less desperate and more passionate.

  “What’s that for?” I ask, reluctantly pulling away to point at the picnic table.

  “That,” Law says, nodding his head at the table, “is the sheepskin rug off the floor of your bedroom. I didn’t think you’d want to be picking splinters out of your back tomorrow morning.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. “You planned the lights, the dinner,” I say, motioning to the pizza box on a small side table nearby, “and the sex?”

  “Well, go big or go home.” Then he smiles. “You can say no if you—”

  I push him backwards. Taking him by surprise so he’ll stop talking. I place both hands on his chest, making him take another step back. Then another. Until he bumps into the end of the picnic table and leans back, half sitting, half standing. Grinning at me like a boy who is about to get lucky.

  Because he is.

  My hands reach for the button of his jeans. His hands slipping inside my leather jacket and under my shirt. I suck in a breath of air because they are cold. But I don’t care. I drag his zipper down, my hands reaching inside, my fingers wrapping around his cock.

  I feel him grow at my touch and his eyes go from wide with delight to half-mast with desire.

  “Tonight,” I say, “it’s your turn.”

  He shakes his head. “I took my turn last night.”

  “Liar,” I whisper, crouching down, his cock fully hard now, and kiss the tip of his head as I stare up into his eyes.

  “You’re going to kill me, Oaklee.”

  God, I love it when he says my name. It makes me want to melt. I open my mouth, cover his head with my lips, and swirl my tongue around until he closes his eyes.

  He opens them again. Almost immediately. And his hands grip each side of my head. His fingers grabbing my hair to guide me, helping me take him deeper.

  I want to look at him. I want to see every expression on his face. But it feels so good to just close my eyes and pump his cock with both hands. Enjoying my part in this as much as he’s enjoying his.

  “God. Damn,” he growls, when I press my head forward until the top of his cock is hitting the back of my throat. I might not have porn-star skills when it comes to this kind of thing. But I have a good idea of what turns guys on. And even though I know my limits and the gag reflex is about to kick in, I try harder. I take him deeper. I open my throat, breathe through my nose, and watch his expression. My eyes on his. His eyes on mine. Desperate to keep this moment in a cage forever. Never let it go.

  But nothing lasts forever. And I have to back away and take a breath so I can dive back down to repeat the whole thing again. Then again, and again, and again… until I’m sucking his cock like it’s food and I’m starving.

  “Oaklee,” he groans again. “You’re gonna—”

  But he doesn’t finish, because I stop, stand up, and reach under my skirt to slip my panties down my legs.

  He watches me. Crooked grin on his face.

  And when I place my hand on his chest again, he lies back on the sheepskin rug. His cock so hard, it’s standing straight up. Like an invitation for me to climb on top of him and cover him with my wet pussy.

  Which I do. Gladly.

  “We could go inside,” he says, breathless now as his hands slip under my shirt again, tug my bra down, and fondle my breasts. “So the whole city can’t watch.”

  “Let them watch,” I say, positioning my hips on either side of his thighs. I sink down. His cock filling me up. My pussy wet, and ready. But the friction is still there. He is big. And Hard. And thick. And I feel everything like this is my first time ever.

  “Yes,” I moan, placing my hands flat on his chest as I begin to rock back and forth. I want to feel everything tonight.

  “Yes,” he agrees, moaning back. Both hands still gripping my tits the way they did last night when he brought me to climax over, and over, and over again. “Fuck me,” he says. Urging me to go faster. “Fuck me hard, Oaklee.”

  So I do. I stop rocking and start bouncing. My breasts still cradled in his hands. Holding them as I lift up and slam down.

  I want him close to me. Even though I am exactly one arm’s width away, it’s too far.

  And he gets that.

  Because he gets me.

  So his hands stop squeezing my tits and instead, he wraps his arms tight around my back, pulling me down on top of his chest. Holding me captive as he takes over. Thrusting up inside me with a desperation I’ve never felt before with anyone.

  He takes me completely, just like that. Lying on a sheepskin rug, perfectly balanced on a picnic table, on top of my building, at the tip of the world.

  He fucks me as the city watches.

  Two people beneath an old water tower. Basking in glowing white lights. Hidden only by the false privacy of mosquito netting. Under the star-filled night sky.

  We come.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - LAWTON

  There is the rush of sexual climax… and then there’s the rush of sexual climax with someone you adore.

  The difference between the two is so instinctual everyone knows this to be true. There is some connection… something in your chest. Maybe it’s the heart, maybe it’s the soul—it doesn’t really matter what you call it. When you have feelings for someone and you consummate that with a sexual experience everything is heightened.

  Her whole body softens and then slips off to the side. Her breasts against my ribcage. Her face tucked into the crook of my neck. Her fingernails tracing some lazy pattern on my chest.

  My eyes are closed so I don’t really know for sure if her eyes are closed too but I’m certain they are. She’s basking in the same post-coital glow as I am.

  “So… question,” she whispers through her still-heavy breathing.

  “Shoot.”

  “Are you multi-orgasmic as well? Or is that just a talent you bring out in others?”

  I smile. Hold in a laugh. Then open my eyes to a surreal fantasy version of the underside of her water tower.

  The white lights make it all look so special. It’s funny how that happens. How a string of nine-dollar mini lights can change everything. How a sheepskin rug can turn an old wooden picnic table into something so much more. How a leather jacket and a tattoo can change a man in the span of two days. How a woman named Oaklee can make him see himself in a brand-new way.

  I wrap my arms around her and roll over so she’s on her back and I’m on top. I move my hips. Just a little. Just enough for her to feel my still-hard cock against her inner thigh.

  “What do you think?” I ask her.

  She’s smiling up at me, her brown eyes turned slightly yellow from the glow of the lights, her cheeks pink. Flushed from the exertion of sex. Her breathing slower now, but not her heart. Because I can feel it underneath me.

  Still pounding.

  Waiting for more.

  Trying to match mine.

  So we can keep time together.

  I think that’s what hearts do. Keep time. Keep everything together. Keep this crazy thing called life in perspective.

  “One more time here,” I say. “Then I’ll take you inside so I can get you naked.”

  It’s too cold to make her take her clothes off. Even though I know she’d do that if I asked her to. I can already feel the chill of her beneath me. But my body heat will help. Will
protect her from the cold.

  The deluxe package includes a boyfriend blanket on a cold night.

  She opens her legs, reaches down between them to play with herself, and my hips adjust enough to allow my cock to slide up to her opening. Her fingers are grabbing my shoulder now. And even through the leather I can feel them dig.

  I want to take the jacket off so she can leave marks on me. I want there to be nothing between us. But I want her to be on the bottom at least once. So she can look up and see the surreal fantasy version of the underside of her water tower just like I did. So we can share that special feeling of being with someone you adore in a way that can’t be repeated.

  No one will ever make love to her like this again. Not even me. Because this is a moment and moments pass into other moments and no two are ever alike.

  She thrusts her hips upward, trying to force me to enter her. I just grin, because not gonna happen. Not until I say so, at least.

  “Come on,” she whispers, watching me intently. “Let’s go.”

  “We’ve got time. There’s no rush.”

  She thrusts upward again. “There is a rush. A rush I want to experience again. Don’t make me beg, Lawton Ayers.”

  “Begging?” I ask playfully. “Is that something you do?”

  She giggles, then gets serious real quick. She frowns. Pouts her lips. Widens her eyes. “Please,” comes out like a whimper. Like she’s been wounded and needs relief. Relief only I can administer.

  “Just take a moment, Oaklee. Feel it with me.”

  Her eyes narrow slightly. Like she’s trying to figure out what I’m asking.

  “The game is over,” I say. “That’s what I want you to feel. We passed it by some time ago. I’m not sure when, exactly. But the game is over.”

  “OK,” she says, her face relaxing. The pout is gone. The confusion is gone. And all her expectations seem to melt away. “We’re real,” she whispers.

  She’s not asking me, she’s telling me.

  I nod, and in that same moment I allow my cock to slip inside her.

  She closes her eyes and clutches my shoulders tighter. And yes, I so badly want to be naked with her inside so I can really feel the hold she’s got on me right now.

  I fuck her slow this time. I feel her this time. I relish the way her pussy clamps against my thick shaft. I enjoy how wet she is. How she moans just a little. How her legs wrap around my waist, trying to box me in and keep me close.

  She doesn’t need to do that. I’m not going anywhere.

  I kiss her as we fuck. It’s a slow kiss because it’s a slow fuck. Our tongues wrapped up in each other. In the simplicity of this night and how everything after this will be complicated.

  Because that’s just how it goes.

  She draws in a deep breath, holds it as her body stiffens and I know what’s coming.

  She’s coming.

  And there’s nothing more beautiful than watching the face of a woman you adore reach the pinnacle of muscle-twitching pleasure with you on top of her.

  So I come too.

  Because that’s what turns me on the most.

  Her pleasure.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - OAKLEE

  The moment I orgasm he thrusts his hips and fills me so deep I can’t breathe. The muscles in my legs are spasming. My eyelids flutter closed—not sure if they want to stay that way and drag the moment out behind a curtain of fireworks on black, or open wide to see the whole thing in perfect clarity.

  They lose the battle and stay closed as pleasure courses through me in waves. My muscles contracting against his cock. The low growl comes from deep within him as he reaches his climax with me, and then the explosion as he comes inside me.

  I laugh. I can’t help it. I just smile, and laugh, and let the happiness and satisfaction bubble out of me like some wild child who’s never been let out to play.

  “Jesus,” he says, his body relaxing.

  I lean my face up into his neck. Smelling the new leather of his jacket, the faint scent of antiseptic from the tattoo, and aftershave leftover from this morning.

  He grabs my hair, pulls it—not too hard, but not too softly either—until my mouth is up against his again.

  We don’t kiss. We don’t even move. We just go still.

  I can feel him smile. I’m sure he can feel me smile too.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  “Whatever you want, Oaks,” he replies back, kissing my lips softly. Tenderly.

  “I’m not talking about—”

  “I know what you’re talking about,” he says, cutting me off. “And my answer is still, ‘Whatever you want, Oaks.’”

  “But—”

  “Shhh,” he says. “Stop thinking.”

  I laugh. “No one can stop thinking.”

  “It wasn’t a request.”

  “No?”

  He continues to kiss me. His mouth more urgent. His lips more demanding. His will imposed.

  “No. We’re going to take that pizza inside,” he says. “Then we’re going to fuck in a hot shower so we can get warm. And then we’re going eat dinner naked in front of your fireplace.”

  I just smile.

  “Any objections?”

  “Can’t think of any.”

  “Good, because that wasn’t really a question either.”

  “You’re dumb.”

  He places both palms flat on top of the sheepskin rug and lifts his upper body up off me. My shirt has ridden up, exposing my belly. And the cold, silver zippers of his jacket drag across my skin and make me shudder.

  “Game over, Oaklee.”

  I get serious. My smile gone. My shuddering body still. I have to swallow hard before I nod yes and say, “OK.” Because this… this is real. I think this is real. “OK,” I say again.

  He gets up, puts his cock back in his pants and zips up. Then picks up my panties, slips them back up my legs so slowly I want to die… and offers me his hand as he grabs the pizza box with the other. We take the long way around to the stairs that lead down onto another terrace on the opposite side of the building so we don’t have to climb down the ladder.

  Maybe he thinks we do this because it’s difficult to climb down a ladder holding a pizza box.

  But that’s not why I take him the long way.

  It’s because I don’t want to let go of his hand.

  We enter through a sliding glass door that leads into one of the spare rooms on the main level.

  “What’s this room?” he asks as we walk past the large wooden barrels and giant glass jugs called carboys.

  “This is my secret beer room,” I say, looking over my shoulder to wink at him. “This is where I keep the Assassin Saison.”

  He pulls on my hand to make me stop. So I do and find him studying everything. “So why do you need both barrels and jugs?”

  “Oh, the jugs are for infusing the fruit flavors. I was testing out two different kinds, so instead of making a huge batch in a barrel, I use the carboys for that. Then when it’s right, I transfer that to the barrels.”

  He looks at me and says, “That’s fuckin’ hot.”

  “What is?” I laugh.

  “That you know how do this kind of stuff. Beer-making. Just thinking about you wearing a lab coat as you drink beer you brewed with your own hands makes me hard.”

  He pulls me close so quick, my breasts bump up against his chest. I tilt my head up to look at him and the strangest feeling courses through my body. I don’t even think I have a word to describe it.

  There’s several long moments when all we do is stare into each other’s eyes. It’s weird, but hot. It’s strange, but nice. It’s…

  “We’re going out to dinner tomorrow,” he says.

  “OK.”

  “I’ll pick you up after work.”

  “OK,” I repeat.

  “I’m going to monopolize your time from now until you make me stop.”

  I smile. “OK.”

  He stares at me for a few more seconds. Then n
ods his head, satisfied that I understand what’s happening, and takes the lead as we leave the secret beer room.

  He drops the pizza off on the kitchen island, then twirls me around. My skirt flares out as I spin, and then he’s got the leather jacket down my arms. It falls to the hardwood floor with a audible thump. And while I’m still thinking about how sexy that sound is, his jacket does the same.

  His tattoo is shiny from the clear antibacterial film Vivi used to cover it up. His t-shirt tight across his chest and upper arm.

  I trace a finger down the outside of the film, making his skin quiver.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  I nod, slowly lifting my eyes up to meet his again. “I love it.”

  “Good,” he whispers, his fingertips reaching for the hem of my shirt. When he lifts it up my body begins to tremble. Maybe from the chill in the air, but more likely, it’s just… his touch that does that.

  “Cold?” he asks, as the shirt goes up over my head and then lands on the floor on top of my jacket.

  “Little bit,” I say, as his fingers find the waistband of my skirt. One tug later it’s over my hips, pooling at my feet with a soft flutter.

  He unbuttons his jeans, grabs his cock through his pants. It’s clearly hard and ready to go again. And yes. Yes, he is most definitely multi-orgasmic.

  “Shower?” he asks, studying my body. His eyes tracing every curve, every bit of me, until they finally rest on mine again.

  I nod. Knowing full well it’s not a question, but not caring.

  He takes my hand again and leads me up the stairs and down the catwalk hallway to my bedroom. Once inside he takes me directly to the master bathroom.

  “Nice,” he says, stopping in front of the giant clawfoot tub. “We’re gonna use that. Eventually. But not tonight.”

  I picture what a bubble bath with Lawton Ayers might look like. Would he fuck me? Shampoo my hair? Would he finger me under the water as I sat between his legs and leaned back into his chest?

  “Oaklee?”

  “Huh?” I look over at him. He’s sitting on a bench near the entrance to my closet, pulling off his boots.

  “Still with me?”