by Bebe Wilde
I wouldn’t say I was obsessed with masturbating or anything. More like I just became very devoted to my new hobby. It was like I had finally discovered a pastime that I enjoyed. I liked doing it while I was waiting for Eric to come home at night. Or I liked doing it in the mornings on weekends before he got out of bed. Or I liked doing it in the shower. It was I did to give myself a little boost. And it was fun. That’s what a hobby should be, right?
I stared at myself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. The new blonde hair color the stylist insisted would look great with my skin tone was, indeed, perfect. It really set off my deep blue eyes and the light tan I was getting from being out in the sun. I’d never been a blonde before. I liked it, though. It suited me and it was always good to change. My neighbor, Jill, had laughed when Eric and I had dropped in the bar the other night. She said we were looking like twins, though my hair was more platinum blonde than his, of course. He grinned and said, “Who wouldn’t want to look like her?” That made her wink at me and say, “Oh, did you enjoy the package?” I could have killed her! That was my secret. I managed to mumble, “What package?” Of course, she just smiled and walked away.
“What’s she talking about?” Eric asked, studying me. “Lara?”
“I have no idea,” I replied and sipped my mojito.
Yeah, no. I didn’t tell him my boyfriend about my new hobby. I know I should have and I should have shared but I didn’t want to. I just wasn’t ready. I was being selfish, I know, but I wanted to keep it for myself. I suppose the main reason being was that I felt if I shared, and it got weird, then I’d be out of a really fun and enjoyable hobby. I didn’t want to spoil it. This was for me and if that meant leaving my boyfriend out of the loop, then that’s what it meant.
I stepped back from the mirror and appraised my body. All those leg lifts and crunches at the gym were paying off, that’s for sure. Since I’d started dating Eric, I’d really upped my workouts, probably because he was in such stellar shape. The man certainly had a body to die for. Sometimes I’d see women gasp at the sight of him at the park when he was playing basketball with his buddies. He’d start off in gym shorts and a t-shirt but soon that t-shirt would come off and then it was all over. Those women literally could not keep their eyes off him. It made me a little jealous but I was happy he came home with me.
Sure, our sex life was better now that I was having some solo time with my vibrator. But it wasn’t the best. I knew that. I knew that in time I would be able to amp it up but right now I was still hanging back. I still didn’t know why, either. I just wasn’t ready. I just could not understand why I couldn’t just give myself over to him. It was like there was something in me that wouldn’t allow it. I knew it was just fear and fear has a way of tainting everything, just as it was tainting my relationship with the only man I’d ever truly loved. And the fear was unfounded. I was afraid he might leave me for someone else. I was afraid I wasn’t good enough for him. This fear kept me from really giving myself over. I mean, why give it to him if he was just going to end up hurting me? I’d read some women prefer to orgasm with vibrators. I was beginning to wonder if I was one of them. I have to say, that piece of plastic really made me feel things I’d never felt before. I didn’t even know if Eric could do what it did for me. But I knew if something didn’t change between us, I’d lose him.
After I began to think about it from that angle, I almost started crying. I don’t know why I was so sure he’d leave me or why I had such insecurity issues. Sure, I knew it probably had something to do with feeling insignificant as a child due to my parents’ divorce but I was a grown woman now. Why couldn’t I just let my man have a good time and allow myself to do the same? I didn’t know why. I just couldn’t.
I sighed and pushed all those depressing thoughts out of my head, then checked the alarm clock through the bathroom door. It was after two. Since I’d had to work overtime the last few weeks, my boss told me to knock off early. I was more than grateful to do just that because my apartment looked like a disaster area and was in need of a good cleaning. Neither one of us had time to clean or pick up. Our schedules were so hectic, it was a miracle we were able to eat much less have sex. We mostly stayed in my apartment and even discussed the possibility of him giving his up and just moving in with me. I wanted that. I wanted him here with me as much as possible, but something told me to hold back and wait. But I didn’t know what the point was. We basically lived together and he’d save a fortune on rent.
I checked the alarm clock again. Oh, yeah. I had a little time now. As I stared at my body, I began to feel the tingle. It started out with a thought about Eric, usually, then I’d feel warmth in my pussy, like it was getting fired up. Mmmmm… Yeah. It was time for a quickie. I could “spank the monkey,” as I’d heard Eric jokingly refer to masturbation before and still have time to clean up the apartment before he came home.
I stepped back and turned on my heel, going into the bedroom. After I had found my vibrator, which I kept hidden in the nightstand beneath some books and a box of tissues, I lay back on the bed. In two seconds, the vibrator was on and between my legs. I couldn’t get good contact with my yoga pants on, so I pulled them off and laid it on top of my panties. Now, that was the ticket.
As soon as I began to get my groove on, my whole body just relaxed and gave itself over to the sensations of pure erotic bliss. I closed my eyes and moaned, just enjoying how good it felt. The orgasm was almost instantaneous. And then it was over. And then I wanted another one and, after that, another.
But before that could happen, I heard a noise. When I opened my eyes, I saw Eric standing at the door staring at me, his mouth hanging open. I gasped. From the look on his face, I could tell he had been watching me the whole time, or at least long enough to know what I was doing. The look on his face told me that he was more than a little shocked and slightly irritated. I felt the sting of embarrassment on my cheeks as he stared at me. What now?
I started to say something but he shook his head. What was he going to do? I didn’t know. I just lay there, all vulnerable and embarrassed and wanted to hide under the covers. Oh, God, this was bad, so bad.
We stared at each other for a long moment before I looked away and started to sit up. He held up one hand, halting me, then he said, oh so quietly, “You never do that with me.”
There was part accusation in his voice, part hurt. What did he mean? Did he think I was cheating him out of something? Like I wasn’t giving enough of myself? Yeah, he probably did. I never did that with him… Yeah. And he was pissed about it.
“You looked so happy,” he muttered.
I was happy. Masturbating made me happy. It made me feel free. It was something I did for myself, to connect with myself, to feel alive.
“You always hold out on me,” he said.
Now he looked angry. There was accusation in his voice and what sounded like a little hurt. As in, how dare I keep him from having great sex when that’s all he wanted? I suddenly felt ashamed. I had been holding out on him. No, it wasn’t right; it was just something I did.
“You’ve been doing this all along, haven’t you?” he asked, shaking his head. “Tell me, Lara. You’ve been doing this, haven’t you?”
I shook my head. No, it wasn’t like that.
He stared me straight in the eye. “You don’t want me.”
My mouth dropped. I started to protest, to tell him I wanted him more than anything, but the way he looked at me told me it might be better if I kept quite.
“You don’t,” he said. “You do not want me. What a fool I’ve been.”
“No!” I exclaimed. “It’s not like that at all!”
“Then how is it?” he asked. “You obviously enjoy getting off and can have an orgasm. Oh, but wait. Just not with me, right?”
“I’ve had orgasms with you!” I said, almost to the point of exasperation. I sat up and put the vibrator on the nightstand and turned to him. I stared into his eyes and started to explain myself furthe
r but the look on his face told me to keep quiet. I kept quiet.
“Then what is it?” he asked. “How long have you been doing this? Always?”
I shook my head. No, it hadn’t been that long, actually, only about six months. I wanted to tell him that I had I meant to share it with him. That I had meant to give him more, better good sex but I just couldn’t. I wanted to. I’d thought about it and I’d tried. But something always kept me from crossing that line. That something was the fear of giving myself totally over to him. I couldn’t get past it.
I didn’t say these things to him, though I should have. Instead I said, “What are you doing home? You’re supposed to be at work.”
He shook his head. “No, I told you I was taking a half-day to play golf. I left my clubs here.”
Damn those golf clubs anyway!
Now what? Well, it was out in the open. I really did enjoy sex, at least with myself. What now? Where did we go from here? I just stared at him, not knowing what to do. I should probably just get up, get dressed and have it out with him. Then what? Then he’d probably leave me. And that would be that. But I was sick of living with this fear.
I opened my mouth to say something but he held his hand up again, silencing me. What was he going to do? Suddenly I realized what he wanted, what he needed. And I knew he was going to take it. And, boy, oh, boy, did that send my heart racing.
Without a word, he crossed over to the bed, coming at me quickly, as if he couldn’t get there fast enough. I waited. I did not move one inch. I could not have moved even if I’d wanted to. I waited in anticipation and then there he was, to me, at me and the next thing I know, he was on me, pushing his body onto mine and claiming what was his—me. Oh, and what a wonderful feeling it gave me to know he wanted me that much, so much that he would do this, that he would claim me.
His lips, his masculine lips overcame mine. They took me over. His mouth ate at mine, sucking at me until I was breathless and wanting more. And he was giving it to me, giving me his all, every single bit of himself, he gave. I wanted more. I wanted his hands on me, all over me, touching me, feeling me, devouring me. And I wanted it—sex, fucking. I wanted to get fucked by him. For the first time ever I felt this release inside of me and I wanted him. I wanted him to want me, to devour me, to take me, to use me. I’d never responded to him this way and both of us could tell it. It was as though something had totally shifted and now we were doing what we were always meant to do.
His hands grabbed my breasts and squeezed them roughly. This made me go into a tizzy, wanting his mouth on them, licking them, sucking them. He bent down and pulled my shirt and bra down then licked my nipple, which made me moan loudly, then he bit at it, little tiny bites here and there. Bite, bite, bite. I was so overcome with the sensations, I was about to explode. But there was more. He took my nipple in his mouth and sucked on it long and hard. A small scream of passion tore out of my throat and I threw my head back. It felt so good, it was almost painful.
He pulled back and stared into my eyes. I stared back, wondering why he stopped. I started to say something but the look in his eye told me to keep quiet.
“You’ve shouldn’t hold out on me,” he said.
I nodded. He was right. And if this sex session was any indicator of things to come, that wouldn’t be happening again.
“You need to learn your lesson,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.
What was he talking about? Learn my lesson? What did that entail? But before I could ask those questions, he turned me over and pulled me across his lap. Just like that. I was about to protest but I didn’t have time. And I didn’t have time cause his hand was in the air, then it was on my ass, giving it a good, hard slap. This made me writhe with pain and pleasure. He’d just spanked me! And I liked it!
“Again?” he asked, almost breathlessly.
I realized this was turning him on as much as it was turning me on, which turned me on even more. Oh, God, yes! Please! Give me another!
“Again?” he asked for the second time, waiting for my response before he continued.
I was so enraptured, I couldn’t say a word, so I merely nodded. Yes, again. And quickly!
And so his hand came down again—smack! This time he paused and grabbed my ass, kneading it with his hand. I wanted more, more, more! He gave me another whack and this made me shiver with delight. While it hurt, it sent my senses into overdrive, making me feel so much passion I could have burst.
He paused. I waited. What now? What was he going to do now? He pulled my panties off and threw them to the side. Then he started rubbing my ass, taking his hand sideways between the cheeks. By this time, I was wet, so wet that his hand slid along it easily. He did this for a few seconds before moving his hand between my legs, sliding it in sideways, all the way up to the clit, then back down. Up to the clit, then back down. And then up, and then back. That’s all he did and that’s all it took. I couldn’t control myself. I came just from that slight but intense touch. I came just from being in the moment with him. He made me come and it was better than any vibrator I’d ever had. This was what great sex was all about—a man, a woman and searing passion.
“Ohhh, Gooooodddddd!” I moaned and buried my head in the pillow. I was shaking with the orgasm, which seemed to last and last and last. I’d thought my vibrator delivered an intense orgasm but this was much more intense. It was better, too, with this man doing it to me, giving it to me. It made it feel more real, more gritty, more animal-like. More natural, more right. As I came, Eric climbed on top of me and pushed my legs open with his. As he did this, he unzipped his pants. Now what? What was he doing? He was mounting me, taking me. I couldn’t move as he did this. I watched as he pulled his hard cock out of his pants. I allowed him to do what he wanted and what he wanted was to fuck me good. I wanted it, too. I wanted it so bad. I could feel his hard cock pressing up against me before he pushed it inside. Ahhhh… There it was and it felt so good, better than it had ever felt before. It was wide and it had length and I was a lucky, lucky woman.
He fucked me like this for a few good minutes before stopping. What the hell…? Then he pulled out. I was about to protest but then he grabbed my hips, pulled me up off the bed, turned me over and positioned me so I was up on all fours. And then he gave it to me good. He rammed into me with long, hard and swift moves. I was almost shaking it felt so good. In and out his hard cock went, in and out of my dripping wet pussy. I was so wet, it’s a miracle he didn’t slip out. But he didn’t. He was big enough that he had enough traction to accomplish his goal and his goal was to fuck me.
He paused for a moment, putting off his orgasm, then bent over and ran his hands all over my body, up under my shirt and bra and he squeezed my breasts, pinching my nipples ever so slightly. Then his hands went lower, grazing over my belly and then up and around to my back. He ran his hands all the way up my back, into my hair and back down again, pausing at my ass. He again slid a hand in sideways between my cheeks and paused, touching me there before he slipped a finger in. I shuddered with enjoyment. I never knew that part of me was erogenous but after that, I almost wanted him to fuck me there, in my ass. But he wasn’t stopping. He soon picked up the pace again and began fucking me harder and harder until I thought I’d pop I was so tightly wound. He kept at it with his finger and his cock, each filling me up completely, double penetrating me. It was almost too much, almost too good. I wanted release but I did not want this to stop.
He paused again and his other hand came up, reaching around me again, this time fingering my pussy and teasing my clit ever so slightly. This sent me into a pure ecstasy. I knew the orgasm was coming and it was coming soon. I was almost gasping for air with lust for him, for his finger, for that slight yet effective touch.
As I ground against his hand, against his finger, as I pushed myself over the edge, so did he. He couldn’t contain it any longer and this time, he fucked me until he was ready to come—hard, good, long. Just before he came, he pulled out and sprayed h
is hot, white cum all over my back. It was too much. I had to finish. So, I grabbed onto his hand and humped it, thrusting the orgasm out of me as I did so, surrendering all I had to it and to him.
We collapsed onto the bed, breathing hard. For a long time, we didn’t say anything. I don’t think we could have even formed sentences at that point. Besides, what do you say after something like that? Wow—what a great fuck? Well, it was. And we both knew it.
Finally, he turned to me and pushed the hair out of my eyes and smiled. I smiled back and then we both cracked up, laughing so hard our stomachs hurt. After we calmed down a bit, he said, “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I nodded. Neither did I. I never had sex like that with any of my other boyfriends and certainly not with him.
“What gives?” he asked.
I shrugged, mulling it over in my mind. Then I noticed he was still dressed. Well partially, anyway. He still had on his work clothes, a crisp white button down shirt which was more than a little wrinkled and his black wool slacks which were barely hanging on his hips. But his shoes were off. I slowly started unbuttoning his shirt, glancing into his eyes occasionally as I did.
“I mean, you were hot. I mean, you are hot. I just never thought you’d do that. That was something. It was like we were soul fucking.”
I thought about that. Yeah. That’s what it was like. It was like our souls had connected and our bodies just took over. It had been that good. I wanted more of it. But that shirt had to come off first. I finally had it unbuttoned and he helped me pull it off, then I tugged at his white undershirt and he pulled it over his head. Ahh, now, he was half-naked like me. I glanced at his slacks, which were just unzipped. They had to come off, too. I tugged at them and he slipped them off along with his underwear. Now he was all naked. But I still had on my shirt. I wanted to be naked like him; I wanted to press my naked breasts up against his hard and masculine chest. I wanted—