by Mimi Strong
He pulled the hem of his shirt back down, hiding his chest from me.
I tried to pull the shirt up again, but he was playing hard to get.
Running my hands up and down his thighs, I said, “There's a sleeping loft right above us.”
“I don't believe it,” he said. “You'll have to show me.”
Both of us grinning like idiots, I led him up the spiral staircase to the sleeping loft and my bed.
“This is where I sleep,” I said.
“Looks comfy.” He jumped on my bed, rolled onto his back, and moved his arms like he was making a snow angel.
I stood at the edge of the bed and slowly unbuttoned my blouse. I grabbed the remote control and turned on some mellow music, the sound wafting up from the stereo on the main floor. Devin watched with great interest as I swayed back and forth to the song. I unfastened my bra and let it drop. He nodded for me to keep going. I'd never done something like this, but he made me feel beautiful. Still swaying, I slowly unfastened the button of my jeans.
He said, “If you're trying to torture me, it's working.”
For a little variety, I turned my back to him and wiggled my hips as I slid down my jeans, and then my panties.
I turned around and froze, because of the strange look on his face.
“What's wrong?” I asked. I'd seen that look before. He was going to run for the door.
He shook his head. “I'll tell you what's wrong. If you don't come over here and lay that beautiful body on top of me, I might explode.” He grimaced and rearranged the crotch of his jeans. “Actually, I may explode either way.”
“We can't have that.” I got onto the bed and crawled along his body, pulling up his T-shirt with my teeth, and then using my hands to help him out of it.
Soon, I had his jeans and underwear off, and I hungrily popped the head of his cock into my mouth.
“Woah, slow down,” he said. “I'm not exactly an expert.”
I did ease up, taking my time and enjoying the musky scent of him as his flesh filled my mouth.
“Let me touch you,” he said, so I shifted my body to lie alongside him, with my feet near his head. I shifted onto my side and bent the knee of the leg on top to afford him access.
He ran his fingers up and down my thigh, and then he explored my folds, stroking through the slick center and spreading the warmth up and across my clit.
I returned the gesture by putting his manhood back in my mouth, and he pleasured me as I gave the same to him.
When I was reaching my plateau, and his cock was incredibly hard, he stayed where he was, and I moved so I was over him, my hair dangling down in his face. I rocked my hips forward and back, the head of his cock rubbing up and down my pussy. Once we were both slick, I eased up and then pushed down, swallowing him inside me.
I sighed happily as he filled me. His hands moved up and down my sides and then settled on my hips, where he pushed, encouraging me down further.
This position was the best one for my pleasure, and I wasn't able to hold back or slow down at all, not now, not after wanting him for so long. I didn't know if I'd ever get enough of him, but I was going to try.
I rocked my hips and shifted my body up and down, sliding him in and out of me. He started to sweat, looking anxious, but in the good way. I closed my eyes and enjoyed his scent and heat and the sound of his breathing.
Toes curling, I started to come, and he wasn't far behind. Both of us writhed together as one.
I didn't know I could feel so good—that I could feel that way with a man. I'd just assumed people in love were exaggerating, but it really was … just like this. Blissful. Perfect.
We moved as one, slowing down, and then we settled as our connected parts pulsed together.
After a moment, he said, “I hope that was … good?”
We were both lying on our sides now, facing each other.
I kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip, then said, “Do you really want to know how you compare to other guys? Not that there've been many of them or anything, but I'll tell you if you want to know.”
He frowned, then said, “I've never been with anyone else, but yes, I want to know. Since the first time, it's been driving me crazy.”
I took a deep breath and told him the truth. “Even our first time, when you weren't sure of anything … that was the single best time I'd ever had. And every time since then, it's just gotten better.”
“You're not just saying that to boost my confidence?”
“Nope. It's absolutely the truth.” I ran my hands over his body, stopping with one palm over his heart. “Some people are just naturally amazing at sex and they make their partner better.” I grinned. “I guess I'm just one of those people.”
He laughed and pushed me back, rolling on top of me. “You're so cheeky!”
As he kissed my lips, chin, and neck, I said, “If we're being honest here, tell me something. When we had sex the first time, right here, were you doing it for practice?”
He stopped and looked at me with a serious expression. “You mean, was I thinking of you as a sex coach?” He frowned. “That's why you mailed me the check, isn't it? Did I make you feel …?” He rubbed his wrinkled brow with one hand. “Oh, now I feel awful. Just awful.”
“Because it's okay if you were,” I said. “I don't mind. I know that it's different now, of course, but I can understand if you just wanted to get your first time out of the way, and—”
He shushed me with his finger on my lips.
“Not like that,” he said. “I wasn't thinking about getting it 'out of the way.' Or practicing. Or anything.” He kissed me slowly, then continued, “I wasn't thinking anything at all. No thoughts. I just wanted you. I wanted to be inside you, on top of you, underneath you, anywhere you'd have me. Since the first moment I saw you, that was what scared me. How bad I wanted you.”
“You've got me now.” I was teetering on the brink of crying, but didn't. I felt so happy, so deliriously happy to be with him, that it was confusing. “I'm yours.”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “And I'm yours.”
“So, should we get dressed and go to the museum now?”
“The museum?” He gave me a big grin. “What makes you think we're going there?”
We crawled to the edge of the bed and both reached for our clothes.
I said, “Uh, your insane love of dinosaurs?”
“I do love dinosaurs, but I have something different planned.”
I thought for sure Devin would be taking me to the museum, but we went instead for a long drive, out to the country. We talked about our favorite movies and books, and he called me a geek about a million times, because of my love for sci-fi.
After about an hour, we arrived at a little farm house. We got out of the car, stretched, and walked up to the porch. Devin wouldn't say who we were visiting. The door opened, and we were greeted by a charming old man, very wrinkled, but spry.
He shook my hand and said, “I'm Rudy, and I'm eighty-nine.”
Devin said, “Rudy is my great-grandfather.”
I swatted Devin on the chest. “You didn't tell me I was meeting your family today.”
He grinned. “Didn't want you to get nervous.”
“Nothing to be nervous about,” Rudy said. “Any friend of Devin's is a friend of mine.”
“Feather's my girlfriend.” He turned to me. “Unless, of course, she isn't.”
We were still standing on the porch, and I took Devin's hand. “Well I'm certainly not your Style Coach, so that would make me your girlfriend.”
“Style Coach,” Rudy said. “Is that a real thing?”
I retrieved a business card and handed it to him.
“I should say something cute now,” Rudy said. “Because I'm old, and everything in this world seems so crazy to me … but this makes sense. When I was growing up, we had a lot of rules about what a person ought to wear and how they went about dating. There aren't so many rules now, are there?”
“No,” I said. “And people do need help.”
He put the card into a pocket on his overalls. “I'll let you know if I need an appointment.” He slipped on a pair of gumboots outside the door and led us down the front steps. “Feather is a nice name,” he said as he stooped down to pick something up. He turned and handed me a long, white feather. “That's from one of the geese,” he said.
I thanked him and examined the feather as he took us on a tour of the farm, from the goats to the chickens. It wasn't a big, industrial farm, but he had a few people working there, and they supplied organic goat's milk and eggs to a few restaurants in the city, including the one in Devin's hotel.
The feather in my hands was light, yet strong. Feathers are made of keratin, the same stuff that's in our hair or in reptiles' scales. Everything with feathers is a bird, but not all birds fly. With penguins, the feathers provide insulation and a waterproof barrier. One more fun feather fact: Some dinosaurs may have been covered in feathers, not scales.
I ruffled the vanes of the white goose feather, then pulled them straight and smooth again.
Maybe it was the sun shining down on the green grass and trees around me, or the sounds of the happy animals being fed, but I got that feeling that everything was going to be just fine.
Whether I went back to school or not, I knew what I was born to do.
I'd helped Devin with his problem, and now he seemed happy. Certainly I was happy to have him as my boyfriend, which made me less than objective, but I didn't feel bad anymore about what had happened between us, with the blurring of lines and boundaries.
I ruffled the feather and straightened it again, even smoother this time.
Maybe everything made sense, even my name.
It's funny, isn't it?
My name is Feather, and I help people learn to fly.
Rudy was called away to help with something, and Devin led me to a little wooden building that had been painted green at some point, and before that, red.
“I have something to show you,” Devin said.
Laughing, I said, “I bet you do.”
He opened the door and pulled me into a dark space that smelled of fresh hay.
Alone now, he wrapped his arms around my back and kissed me, moaning with exaggerated pleasure.
I pulled away giggling. Little things were moving in the dim light around us, hopping around and hopping in and out of a narrow door that led to a fenced-in outdoor enclosure.
My eyes adjusted.
“Bunnies!”
Devin reached down and scooped a small, white furball up. “French Angora rabbits.” He waved it near my face. “Terrifying, aren't they?”
“Absolutely horrifying,” I said with a grin. “Oh, please, whatever you do, don't make me hold one.”
“The baby ones are the most repellant,” he said, handing me one and then scooping up another one for himself.
“Their little ears!” I cooed.
“I'm a horrible boyfriend, aren't I? Taking you for a long drive only to muck around with a bunch of animals.”
“Without a doubt,” I said, leaning in to kiss him as we both held our tiny bunnies. “Worst date ever.”
* the end *
THE THREE KEYS TO HAPPINESS
In order to be happy, every person must have:
1. Something meaningful to do.
2. Someone to love. (Friends and family and pets all count.)
3. Something to look forward to.
It's really that simple.
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Check out Mimi Strong's other great titles at www.orlypress.com.
Catou Martine
London Lace
Mimi Strong
Borrowed Billionaire
Her Teddy Bear
The Ice Cream Shop Boy
Why Not Tonight?
Two Hot People Had Sex
Typist - Billionaire Novelist
The Kissing Coach
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Table of Contents
How to Get a Guy to Kiss You
Part I
Feather's Top Style Tips
Part II
Facts about Kissing
Part III
Coping with Anxiety
Part IV
The Three Keys to Happiness