by Cara McKenna
“I did not mean to be so rough.”
“It’s good, really. I love that I’ve managed to make you that…worked up.”
“You have. I feel crazy, I want you so badly.”
“What do you want, when I touch you that way?” So often, we’re asking one another what we want…
“Everything. I want to feel like the biggest, hardest cock you’ve ever had. Ever will have. I want you on top, using me. I want you on your knees before me, possessing me with your hands and eyes and your mouth. I want to hear you beg for me to take you, to come for you. Everything.”
I shivered to realize again how in tune with me he was. I wanted such a messy mix of things too. To be both aggressive and passive, cruel and helpless. Everything, indeed. I’ve always kept myself so separate from men, now that I’ve found one I’m willing to be close to, I want to be so close to him that everything jumbles, our roles mashed and swapped and switched, two bodies twisted in a frantic heap of sweat and mangled, modified kinks. I want his weight on me, his voice in my ears, his cock inside me. Behind me, above me, beneath me, even beside me, once the sex has had its way with us.
I like who Didier is turning me into. I like who I am with my armor stripped away. Stronger in my defenselessness.
I felt so thankful and energized, I wanted to spoil him. Without a trace of fear, I pulled his waistband down to free him. His cock looked new again in the lamp’s weak glow, bigger now that it was bare. He watched me, watching him. As I traced a finger along the ridge his flesh twitched, as though pleading for more. For me.
He slid his thumb under his waistband, holding it down for me. Something about this, about him presenting himself, exposing himself… His other hand palmed my shoulder. As I wrapped my fingers around him, his touch slid lower, lower, until he glanced my breast. The touch made me buck and he took his hand away.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re fine. It’s just intense, having someone do that.”
He cupped me softly and my racing pulse slowed.
I glanced down at my hand, his cock. “I’m not quite sure how to touch you. Beyond just exploring. How do you do it, when you’re…you know.”
“Here.” He wrapped my fingers around him, just below his head. I clasped him tightly as he directed, easing my fist up and down, up and down, at a steady, sensual pace.
“Then when I am close, I go faster. Harder.” He squeezed my fingers tighter and sped my pulls, rougher than I’d have ever done, taking my own liberties. He took us back to the slower caresses.
“Is that the same as when you’re inside a woman?” I asked. “Slow, then more frantic at the end?”
“Typically, yes. You tease me for long enough and my body grows impatient and greedy.”
A greedy Didier intrigues me greatly. For a long time I stroked him, liking the heat of his palm on my breast. I didn’t want to feel fiddled with, and I didn’t. I felt comforted. As my confidence with touching him grew, my mind wandered to what else I might do with this cock. What might bring him to that greedy, frantic state…
“I know you said oral sex is more intimate than intercourse.”
“You do not agree?”
I laughed. “I’m not one to ask. But I’ve never had a man before, either way. And actually losing my virginity feels like a bigger deal. I mean, I might still be intact, down there.”
His brows rose, curious. “You think so?”
“Maybe. Possibly.” The science behind hymen preservation had always struck me as murky. Tampons, sure. Horseback riding, minimal and non-vigorous. Could I have made it to thirty, my seal unbroken? The curious look on Didier’s face made me hope so. Such an old-fashioned notion of purity and ruin seemed fitting in this old-fashioned place, with its old-fashioned objects. Didier and his timeless, classical beauty.
“You do not use any toys by yourself?” he asked.
“Not inside me. I always thought I should save that. Since it’s been so long already.”
“Well.”
I nodded. “So that kind of feels like, I don’t know. The grand finale.”
“I understand.”
“But you do… You like going down on women, right?”
He grinned and released my breast, propping an elbow against the back of the couch and leaning back. “Very much. Perhaps that is why I save it for last.”
Heat trickled down my neck through my chest and belly to my cunt. I’d happily be Didier’s dessert, if that was how he felt about the act.
“You’re blushing.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Was I too bold?” he asked.
“No, I like what you said.”
“If I can make you blush just talking about this, I cannot wait to know what the actual caress will do to you.”
“I’d like to find out. Some night.”
“Some night?”
“Yeah. Maybe tonight… I’m not sure.” All my clothes were still on and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go to the same base Didier had allowed me to take him. But I was here to find out.
“Could we go to your room?”
“Of course.”
I let him go and he stood to refasten his pants.
“Candles?” he asked.
“Please.”
The card table was in its place behind the couch and he carried it with us to his room. I sat and watched him light the many wicks, his exquisite face golden in the multiplying glow.
He turned to me as he shook the match. “More kissing?”
I nodded. “And could you maybe take your clothes off? Except your underwear.”
He slid his open shirt from his shoulders and dropped his slacks. He was still hard from what I’d done to him, erection curved to one side behind the silk. More of that sticky, self-satisfied pleasure filled me, banishing the nerves.
“Could you sit here?” I patted the center of the mattress.
Didier did as I asked, facing the head of the bed, and I arranged his long legs as I wanted them, in a V. Mindful of my dress, I scooted close, also in a V, with my legs draped over his. Mirrored this way, I felt vulnerable but equal. I edged even closer, enough that my hem gathered against his straining cock, our crotches still two or three inches apart.
Didier ran his palms over my calves and knees, smiling. “I like this. Feeling your body against mine.”
I liked it too, my smooth legs pressed to his manly ones. I imagined more, both of us naked. I kept the idea in mind as I touched his face and his mouth lowered to mine.
Every time we kiss, it feels different. New, exciting, dangerous, sweet, and now fond. I’d never before felt mastery over any of the men I’ve kissed, the sort of confidence that practice and familiarity breed. With Didier I was beginning to. He dominates just enough for you to kiss him back, but to also feel without a doubt that you. Are. Getting. Kissed.
I hope it’s exactly how he fucks.
I fumbled our rhythm to scoot even closer, finally near enough for my dress to ride up and for his erection to press the crease where my thigh meets my hip. It was harder to kiss now, because he’s tall and we were so close, but the fascination of having my thighs against his waist and my chest brushing his… Further than I’d meant to go, but so exactly where I wanted to be.
Strong hands slid down my arms to my lower back, kneading. Punctuating the gesture were tiny movements from his hips, the faintest thrust of his cock against my bare skin.
I needed more, but I wasn’t sure what. Against his neck I whispered, “I want to go further.”
“You want me to take you there?”
I nodded.
“Everything now is fine? You just want more?”
“Yes.”
With no further preamble, Didier took hold of me beneath each thigh and pulled me against him, my legs wrapping around his waist. All at once, a hard cock was pressed to my pussy, where no man’s hand had even ventured. Our mouths were level once more and I’d found paradise, our bodies so perfectly enmeshed. He reached betwee
n us to center his shaft against my lips.
“Good?” he asked, our noses touching.
“Yes.”
“Nice for me as well.” He stroked my back and waist, my butt. I hadn’t expected that area to be so loaded with nerve endings, but the weight of his palms there took my breath away. When his hands moved to my hips, I felt the request in their gentle tugging. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders for support and adjusted my legs to kneel, and began to move.
I was awkward at first, grinding too hard. But he was patient, and before long I found my way, softly grazing his cock with my pussy. This was heaven, surely. Even better than sex, the perfect torture of anticipation. He held my ass, following the rhythm I set.
Didier’s breath went from deep to shallow to heavy to harsh. I leaned back to see what I’d done to him, his brows gathered in a tight line, eyes shut, mouth open. There’s no way to make that face anything less than stunning, but whatever I was making him feel, the results were ten times more handsome than any smile. I could imagine him tied down now. I couldn’t yet imagine actually inflicting his pleasurable suffering, but the thought of him submitting suddenly made sense.
His eyes opened. “Feels wonderful.” His hands left my butt and he braced them behind him on the bed, leaning back. It tensed his chest and arms and stomach, and gave me more freedom to explore this act. So unlike the old Caroly—who would never dare look directly at a shirtless man in the park, lest she affirm his vanity—I stared at Didier. His body was mine for the evening, every inch of hard muscle, the spray of dark hair trailing from his navel to his cock, all that bare skin, his scent and his face and his voice. His pleasure. He stared at me in return and I felt no judgment, only awe.
I paused to surprise myself once more, peeling my dress up and over my head.
I didn’t need his hands on me; his eyes were more than enough. I wondered what gave him that look… My skin, perhaps, far paler than his. My small breasts in the laciest bra I’d ever owned, purchased with a racing heart for this exact occasion. I didn’t feel like any of the adjectives I usually do, being seen in a bathing suit or suffering the harsh light of a dressing room—gawky, pasty, bony. His gaze turned all those words on their heads. I felt rare and graceful. Electric.
I wanted something that hadn’t actually occurred to me before. I wanted to come tonight.
Before, my thoughts had been nothing more than a carnal menu of unknowns—the proximity of naked man, the feeling of his flesh against mine, the surrender of my moldering virginity…perhaps to kiss a man and actually take pleasure from it, as a bonus. But never had I bothered to wonder if I’d have an orgasm. How much of my life had I wasted, opting out of experiences? The thought sobered me and my hips slowed.
“Is everything all right?”
I hesitated before answering, long enough for emotion to take hold. Tears came, just a few. Didier sat up and wiped them from beneath my eyes.
“We can stop.”
“I’m not upset, not from this. I just feel sad.”
“Sad?”
“This is all really wonderful, but it makes me realize… I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time and energy, avoiding being this way with someone.”
“You’re here now, with me,” he murmured. He kissed my cheeks, my ears, my neck.
“I am.”
“So enjoy that this is all still new to you. That all this, these thrills most people can barely remember at twenty-nine, they’re still ahead of you. Right in front of you.”
I smiled, tears drying up. “You’re a very smart man. And I am, I’m here with you, right now.”
Didier smiled, something mischievous in his narrowed eyes. “You’re very pretty when you cry, though.”
I laughed, and Didier kissed me again, to the left of my lips.
“Better?”
I nodded.
Another kiss, on the other side.
“You’re sweet,” I said.
One more kiss, square on the mouth. It was a relief—a release—to allow him to lead. I welcomed him inside, the sweep of his tongue against mine. It was in that moment that I knew for certain, I’d have him. Not tonight, perhaps, but soon. I’d hoped he would feel just like this, intuitive and easy. As bold as I so often felt lost and unsure.
He spoke against my lips. “Lie back.”
Excitement surged as my head found the pillows, all my sadness reduced to a figment.
Didier knelt between my legs, palms on the bed beside my ribs, bringing our centers back together. “Tell me if I’m too forward.”
“I trust you.”
He locked his forearms tight to my sides and the unexpected possession of the contact shifted everything. His hips began to move, the ridge of his erection teasing my clit with short, faint strokes. Faster, I thought. Fast enough to burn away the last scraps of our clothes.
He looked strong and solid, felt just as good as I lay my hands on his shoulders. I wondered how many women had been taken on this bed, head against these pillows… It sounds like an ugly, sabotaging thought, but weirdly enough, it only thrilled me more. I wanted to be that sort of woman, the kind who took what she wanted. I wanted to be with Didier, a man so skilled with his body that he’d made a craft of sex.
I watched his hips, fantasizing we were actually having sex. I pictured his cock surging as he fucked me, gleaming wet in the candlelight. I glanced to his bedside table as a thought tugged at me.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Do you have any water in here?”
He craned his neck and I spotted it—a pitcher and tumbler on his deep windowsill. He left me to fill the glass.
I suppose he expected me to drink it, but I sat up, pouring a bit into my cupped palm. I felt his gaze on me as I brought my hand to his abdomen, letting the liquid slip down his skin to darken his shorts. Another palmful, dripped right against his bulge, underwear going translucent. Even sexier than I’d hoped. I could see nearly everything, only the most explicit details obscured, as though behind fogged glass. The camera of my memory clicked madly and I pictured him kneeling in the ocean surf, pummeled by waves… Dirty-poetic; how I imagine a pornographer might shoot a cologne commercial. A decadent marriage of sleaze and luxury.
“I love the way you look at me,” he murmured.
I drew my palm across his cock, side to side, reveling in the contrast of his hot flesh, the drag of wet silk. If I’d thought for even a second, the next words would never have fallen from my lips. “I’d like to feel you…in my mouth.”
“You know you can have whatever you want.”
I nodded. “I want that. And I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That’s fine. That’s very exciting, in fact. But do you know how you’d like to feel? In control?”
“Just free to…experiment, I think. Maybe you could tell me what feels good to you, give me instructions. Nothing too aggressive.” I traced my thumb and finger down his shaft. “I’d like to be the one doing everything.” I imagined the scenes that turn porn from exciting to ick for me—gagging and ears-as-fuck-handles are not my idea of sensual. Not that I could imagine Didier cast in any such sloppy imitation of the erotic.
“How would you like me? Lying down, or standing before the bed? Something else?”
Less intimidating on his back, but perhaps more exciting towering above me… “I’m not sure.”
“I think you will feel most in control if I lie down.”
I nodded. “That sounds wise.”
Didier and I swapped places, and as I set the glass aside and knelt between his legs, the reality of the moment set my heart racing. He was the only man I could imagine doing this to. Beautiful beyond reason and aware of his looks, even profiting from them…but no smugness. No getting his way. This was my way, pure and simple. I don’t care if that makes me selfish or cowardly. It feels safe. And I need safe to get off as surely as others merely need horny.
Below me, Didier cupped his cock through his wet shorts, the touch
patient and seductive. I touched him myself, running my hands over his hard belly with its exceptional muscles, then his broad thighs.
“Let me see,” I whispered.
He tucked a thumb inside his shorts and pushed them down.
“I’m nervous.”
“And I’m just a man,” he said. “I want only what you do.”
I was tempted to correct him, to tell him he’s more to me. He’s my fantasy, maleness in its near-unattainable, ideal state. He’s the one I waited for, even if my delusions of once-in-a-lifetime, breathless romance wound up mutating into the more two-dimensional courtship called prostitution.
I stared down at his bare length, needing a push, the tiniest shove past hesitation.
“It excites me to be the first,” he said.
My body melted at the notion—molten, not gooey this time. Lava, not chocolate. I could smell him even before I brought my face closer. I held his thighs as I lowered, letting the scarier sensations wash over me, nothing but initial icy waves to endure en route to submersion. Submission.
“You have my word that I’m clean,” he said. “But if you want a condom I’m more than happy.”
I was torn… The good girl in me wanted to do everything right, but I also wanted the real deal, the taste of his skin and perhaps his come, not latex and lubricant. And God help me if it makes me a fool, but Didier’s word was enough.
“I want you bare.”
“Then that is how you’ll have me. Get comfortable.” His directive was kind, though also a touch devious if I wasn’t mistaken.
Reclining on my hip, I propped my elbow beside him, sliding my hand under the small of his back. Heat seemed to roll off him, hot enough to ripple the air. Didier took my other hand and wrapped it around the base of his cock, holding it there gently. His head no more than three inches from my lips…
He waited while my dramatic pause turned to hesitance, hesitance to misgiving.
“Too much?” he asked. “Too soon?”
I met his gaze. “No, I don’t think so. Just at the edge of the diving board, you know?”
“You need a push, I’m sensing?”
I laughed faintly. “Probably.”
He let my hand go, smoothing a rogue curl behind my ear before resting his palm on my neck. “Taste me.”