Delilah's Diary #1: A Sexy Journey

by Jasinda Wilder

  "You will tell me if I move too fast, okay?" he said.

  My panties were pink lace, lingerie I'd indulged in for fun before I left Chicago, and was wearing them because they made me feel sexy and daring. Would he see them? The thought of standing in my bra and panties in front of a man was scary. I'd never done it before. That's not how things were with Harry. We had sex in bed, with the lights out. I'd never stood before a man in any state of undress, not intentionally. Oh, sure, Harry saw me naked all the time, just out of the shower, or changing, but...

  God, as I write this I realize the hard truth: Harry didn't want me. He didn't desire me. I was safe, for him. I was security. I had a career path and I took care of him. But sexually, I was just there. Available, but not his preference.

  Luca...he wanted me. It was in his eyes, in the roving possession of his hand, the bump of his hips against mine. His desire was infectious, and intoxicating.

  I'd never been desired before.

  I needed to show Luca that I wanted him too. I brushed my hands up his torso, along his sides, and lifted his shirt off. Holy hell. His body was chiseled from flesh-covered granite. My lips, of their own free will, touched his shoulder, an inch away from his neck, and then closed in to where his throat met his clavicle, and then to his adam's apple.

  I'd never kissed a man, thus, with such tender passion. I didn't love Luca, but I wanted him, in a way I'd never wanted anyone.

  Luca kissed my temple, feathered his fingers through my hair as I paid oral homage to the temple of his body, then skimmed his hands up my back and lifted my shirt free, and my thudding heart went mad.

  "Your heart, it is beating so hard," Luca laughed. He tipped my chin up to look at him. "You are not only nervous, I think. You are afraid. Am I scaring you, Delilah?"

  I shook my head, then nodded, and then laughed at my indecision, sniffling. I wasn't crying. I wasn't.

  Shit. Yes I was.

  (Cursing comes easier with every passing day; in writing, it is even easier. No one will ever read this diary.)

  "Delilah? Mio Dios, you are crying. It was too much, I knew it." He sat me down on my bed, pulled me against his chest.

  I was in my skirt and bra, but he hadn't so much as peeked at me, yet. This just made me cry harder.

  "I'm sorry, Luca," I whispered, choking back the crazy, unwelcome, confused tears. "It's not you. I don't know what it is. I was enjoying it, really I was. I don't want to stop. I don't know why I am crying."

  "Tell me, mia bella. What is it you are trying to forget?"

  I shook my head. "No. No drama." I wiped my eyes, took shallow shuddering breaths.

  And then Luca, sweet, sexy Luca, he kissed my hair line, and then my temple, and then my cheekbone, and then my jaw, and it was as if I'd always known him, always felt his kisses on my face. So familiar, so foreign; so electric, so comforting.

  It only made another tear track down my face, and then I was talking. Again. Telling my stupid story, again. I had it down to a quick run-through at this point, an almost memorized patter of the facts: small town girl married her high school sweetheart, found him cheating on her and left him.

  "But then why are you so afraid of this?" Luca asked. "You are not a virgin, it is not your first time, nor mine. I am not hurting you, am I? Not giving you pressure to do this?"

  "No! Like I said, it's not you, not in any way. It's just...Harry, my ex-husband, was the only one I've ever been with. And with him, it was always in bed, in the dark. Once we were married—and we waited until we were married for our first time, or I did, at least—there wasn't much romance to it. We barely kissed. He didn't touch me like you are. He just...did what he did, finished, and went to sleep." I couldn't look at Luca as I said this. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know anything, except that...I want you. I want this. You...you look at me, touch me like you actually want me, and it—it's so wonderful. But yeah, I'm scared. It's new, and I feel vulnerable. What if I'm bad at it? What if you don't like...it...with me? It's like I am a virgin, in a way. In terms of experience, I mean. I've never done anything. I just let Harry do what he wanted, and that was it."

  Luca's eyes were burning, with anger, but not at me, I didn't think. "Oh, Delilah. You poor girl. You have been so ill treated. That is not love, that is not even really sex. This Harry was only a selfish pig of a man who did not deserve you. You need to be taught what true pleasure is, I think." He tipped my chin up and kissed me, ever so gently. "If you are sure you want this, with me, tonight, I will be as slow an educator in the arts of love as you could wish. If not, there is always another night, and do not think I will be upset, please."

  Yes, Luca really said that. He wanted to educate me in the arts of love? Oh Venus, still my beating heart.

  "Answer me, mia bella Delilah." His command was gentle but insistent, his finger on my chin keeping me from looking away. "I want to hear your answer."

  I forced my eyes to his. "Teach me, Luca."

  A slow, seductive smile spread across his lips, and the pad of his forefinger dragged down from my chin to my throat, to my chest and between the valley of my cleavage.

  He tugged my bra between the cups. "Take this off. I want to see you, mia bella." I reached with a hesitant hand behind me, still sitting beside him, but he stopped me. "Stand up, if you please. Make of it a dance, perhaps. You are so beautiful, Delilah. So sexy. Show me you know this."

  I shook my head. I could barely whisper, but he heard it. "I'm not."

  He looked almost sad. "Know it, in your heart. You are exquisite. Stand up." I stood up slowly, arms around myself, trying to cover my breasts and stomach. "Yes, very good. Now, put down your arms, just let me look. Feel your body. With your hands, feel yourself."

  My breath shuddered, but I managed to force my arms down, and touched my hips above the fabric of my skirt. I ran my hands up my sides, touched the heavy cups of my bra and across the exposed cleavage, then down my arms. Luca seemed to enjoy this; the lust in his eyes gave me courage. I reached behind me for the zipper of my skirt, tugged it down, hooked my thumbs in the waistband, then hesitated.

  "Yes, take it off. Show me more." Luca leaned back on his hands.

  I could see the evidence of his arousal bulging against the zipper of his jeans. My blood boiled, both at my wanton behavior and at the thought of his manhood, hard for me.

  I slipped the skirt over my hips, wiggled my backside and let my skirt pool on the floor, and then I was in only my bra and panties, and Luca clutched the bedspread in his fists, as if forcing himself to remain in place.

  "Mio dios. Così bella. Si guarda in modo morbido. Voglio toccarti."

  "What? What did you just say?"

  He laughed, a low rumble. His eyes never stopped roving my body. "I said, so beautiful. You look so soft, I want to touch you."

  A burst of courage spurted through me: "So touch me."

  He shook his head. "Not yet, but soon. First, show me more, mia bella. More."

  My hands shook, and I looked away. I couldn't. Bare my body to a man?

  "Please." It was a single soft word, said with a smile and a look of pure desire.

  It was enough.

  I reached behind me and unhooked the bra, a single eyelet at a time. I couldn't go any faster if I had wanted to. My hands were shaking like leaves in a long wind, and my heart was beating fit to burst from my chest. I was nearly hyperventilating. But, I did it. I got the bra unhooked, and, with an effort of will, crossed my hands to opposite shoulders and brushed the straps off, let the bra fall to the ground.

  My arms crossed in front automatically, and my spine hunched.

  "Stand straight. Yes, like that. Very good. Now, lower your arms. Let me see your beautiful breasts."

  I made my arms drop to my sides and stood straight. His breath was coming in deep pulls, his eyes half-lidded, his fists crumpling the bedspread.

  "Now the rest."

  This was even harder. Impossible. "I can't," I said.

  "You can. Y
ou want to. You are lovely, and I want to see all of you. Show me."

  I closed my eyes and took deep, calming breaths. I could do this. I did want to. He thought I was beautiful. Yes.

  My hands ran down my sides, between my skin and the pink lace, pushed them down my thighs and I bent, breasts swaying, to step out of the panties. Eyes closed. Hands shaking in front of my sex. Chin trembling.

  "Look at me, Delilah." Luca's voice was soft, tender, insistent.

  I shook my head, rooted to the threadbare carpet.

  I heard the springs release as Luca stood up, and my shaking grew worse. I reminded myself that I wanted this. Floorboards creaked, and heat assaulted my naked body as Luca drew near.

  I gasped in shock as a finger traced the curve of my side and down my hip. I tilted my head back when I felt lips on my shoulder, lost my breath when they moved down to my chest, and then to the mound of one breast. Fingers trickled up my belly, dipped into my navel and continued upwards, a slow journey under my breasts and to my areolas, and then...

  My knees buckled as he pinched my nipple, sending heat lightning zapping through my body, and his other hand was curving around my hip to cup one buttock, and all this while his lips were on my skin, touching my throat and my shoulder and my chest and cheek, and now my lips.

  "Now look at me, Delilah. Please."

  I looked. His eyes were on mine, patient and burning with desire. He put his hands on my shoulders and spun me in a half-turn, so I faced the bathroom door. I saw myself in the mirror, nude, pale as porcelain, voluptuous, with Luca standing shirtless in a pair of jeans behind me. His arms wrapped around me, across my belly, dark skin on white.

  "Look how lovely you are," he said, his breath tickling my ear. "See? See how beautiful?"

  "I see you," I said to Luca. "You're beautiful."

  He stepped to the side, out of the mirror's frame, catching my hand in his. "Now look, it is only you. Now do you see your beauty?"

  I shook my head. "I just see me." Again, the rush of daring; I turned away from the mirror and faced Luca. "Show me you think I'm beautiful. Continue my education."

  He stepped toward me, closing the gap. "Help me with my pants," he said.

  Oh, his education forced me so far out of my comfort zone; but then, just about everything did, didn't it?

  I traced around the heavy, broad pectoral muscles, down between the canyons of his abdominal muscles, to his sides, and then the thick cords of his arms. He stood still and let me touch. Both hands now, all over his stomach. I kissed him, and now his lips on mine were slow and thorough, exploring my mouth with his, and I let my hands wander down to toy with the button of his jeans.

  Was I going to do this?

  Hell yes.

  The button slid out easily, and the zipper fell almost by itself, and then his pants spread apart, showing black cotton. A breath, and then I pushed the jeans down past his hips, and he stepped out of them, one foot on the loose fabric by his other foot, and then the opposite, and then he was in only a pair of tight black briefs, his erection outlined, the head nearly popping out the top.

  My god, the man was beautiful.

  "Almost there, mia bella. Now the underwear. Slowly."

  Two hooked fingers curled inside the elastic band at his hipbones and tugged down. The tip of his penis caught the material, and I had to slide one finger around the band to free him. My finger brushed his manhood and I, absurdly, blushed. Down past his thighs, now, the briefs went, and my eyes were helpless to look away.

  Comparisons are inevitable, at this point, aren't they?

  Harry was my only point of reference, of course. According to Marge, he was...poorly endowed. Small. Of course, she may not have been telling the truth, or just trying to placate me in some odd way.

  If Luca was any frame of comparison, Harry was barely there. A moment of objectivity, perhaps: Harry's was shorter by a matter of inches, and thinner by nearly as much.

  I'd not really seen Harry erect, either before, during, or after sex. As I've said too many times, we never did anything in the light. Ridiculous as it may sound, I made it through nearly ten years of marriage without ever really seeing him naked, touching his sex, or much else for that matter.

  I felt a moment of panic. If we, Luca and I, had sex...he was going to put that in there? He was huge. I'd be split in half.

  My panic must have shown. "Please, don't worry. You will stretch. I will be slow, and you will tell me if it is uncomfortable. But that is not for now. Do not think of that." Luca pushed against me, his erection a hard but silken wedge between our bodies. "For now, it is only about one minute at a time, one moment by one moment. Now lie down, and let me touch you."

  He pushed me to the bed and I lay down, scooting to the middle. Luca followed me, lying next to me, close enough to let his heat warm me. His lips touched mine, and I felt relief. I lost all my worries, all my fears, all my thoughts when he kissed me. I could do this, when he kissed me.

  Maybe he knew this, and pulled away to make me feel my fear and face it. He kissed me on the jaw, then my throat underneath my chin, and then the hollow at the base of my neck. My fingers found the back of his head and rested there. He moved lower, and lower, and...oh...god...

  His mouth was on my nipple, teeth grazing, lips pinching. Pure delight. There was never, in all my life, anything so wonderful as Luca's mouth on my breast at that moment, his lips grazing the full curves, tongue teasing, flicking, circling. Wet heat bloomed between my thighs, in the folds of my pussy. His hand found my other nipple, and then, holy heaven and good gravy, he put his fingers to my sex, pressed his palm to my mound and dipped a single finger inside me.

  This was in no way like touching myself. He was all over me, kissing my breasts, fingering my nipple, touching my pussy. All I could do was arch my back and remember to breathe.

  The finger inside me moved, then, a slow swipe, an exploratory delving into my depths, sweeping the walls and then back out. Oh, oh god, he found my clit, then, sweet Jesus...lightning blasted through me when he circled the aching nub with two fingers.

  "You are so tight, mia bella. So wet." He spoke with his mouth still at my nipple. "I wonder...yes...I wonder how you taste."

  "What? No, you can't..."

  He did.

  His body moved down and his hands pushed my resisting knees apart, and his mouth kissed a hot line up my thigh, higher and higher, to the patch of trimmed curls.

  I've always kept myself trimmed down there, just because that's how I like it.

  I tried to squeeze my knees together, mortified, embarrassed, shocked that he would put his mouth there, but he only kissed more ardently, tonguing my opposite thigh, and then the mound of my pubis and—yes, yes, sweet ecstasy—his tongue found my entrance, drove in and up, pulled back and licked again. He kissed the lips of my pussy, then pushed his tongue back in, and I was a bridge, spine arching at every touch of his tongue.

  He'd just gotten started, it seemed. He flicked the wet button of my clit, then, and I jerked, gasping, but he didn't relent, or stop, only licked again, and now his fingers were inside me even as his tongue began to find a rhythm, around and around and around, then up and up and up.

  I wasn't sure what he did next, but something exploded deep inside me. His middle and ring finger touched a spot on the inside, high up, and I came apart. His tongue lapped against my clit and his fingers rubbed that spot and I was a gyrating, undulating bundle of ecstatic nerve endings, whimpering, bucking, but he stayed with me and kept going, kept going...

  The world ended, for a moment, and I may have screamed.

  Luca's weight was next to me again, and when I could move, I rolled into him and met his eyes. "Oh...my...god. How did you do that?"

  "You liked it?" I could only nod, grinning shyly against his shoulder. "Good. I will do it again, if you wish, later." He kissed me, and I tasted my own musk on his tongue.

  I found myself glancing down at his erection...at his cock. The word rolled through
my head, and I said it mentally, trying it. Cock. I want to touch him, I thought. I want to touch his cock.

  "Go ahead," he said, and I realized I'd spoken aloud.

  I didn't giggle. Really.

  Okay, fine, I did, just a little.

  I put my hand on his chest and ran it south to his belly, and then my palm was gliding along his cock. It was...so many contradicting sensations. Hard but soft at the same time. Hard as steel, but a little springy under my fingers, and silky smooth, warm. Long, and thick. I wrapped a fist around him, and my fingers barely met. His eyes shuddered and squeezed closed, and I realized then the effect I was having on him. He liked this. He enjoyed my touch.

  I slipped my hand down his length, then put my other hand around him, fist above fist, and then a single drop of clear liquid seeped out the hole at the top, the name of which I couldn't remember at the time and it doesn't matter now, as I write this. I moved my hands together up his length and then back down, mimicking the action of sex, squeezing gently.

  His testicles were tight against him, and I touched them too, cupped them in my palm, amazed at how much heavier they were than I expected. I returned my hands to his cock, and let them simply touch and explore.

  I was amazed at myself, at my calm as I wrapped my fingers around the cock of a man I'd just met.

  His hands caught mine and he pushed them away. "Enough, for now. If you continue, this will be over before it has begun."

  I knew, clinically speaking what would happen. I'd never seen it happen, though. Harry always came inside me. I wanted to see it happen. I wanted to make it happen.

  "I want to, though. I mean, I want to make you...you know. Like you did for me."

  Luca smiled and cupped my breast, leaned over me and kissed me. "Oh, you will. And later, you can do what you want to me. For now, though, I want to be here," he said as he touched two fingers to my pussy.

  Logic pushed through me. "I'm on the pill," I told him.

  There were other considerations I knew I should ask about, but his mouth found my nipple again, and he was leaning above me, touching me with his fingers, fluttering inside me.