Big Girls Do It Boxed Set

by Jasinda Wilder

  He never sped his thrusts, held himself to slow, measured pushes, going deeper with each one.

  "Anna." He grated my name past clenched teeth as he came, thrusting hard and deep to the rhythm of my name. Two syllables, a full thrust inward on the initial emphasis, our hips bumping together on the 'N', retreating on the outbreath 'A'.

  I felt his seed hit my inner walls, felt him throb within me as he continued to come, and come and come, lips crushed to my shoulder. He held my leg firm around his hip all the while, pulled on my knee for leverage, his free hand roaming my torso, breast to belly and back up, fingering my hypersenstive nipples.

  The water was going cold now, and he finally let my leg down and pulled out of me. I shut the water off and pulled him against me, curling into his heat, our damp skin sticking together, our breathing matched gasps.

  He moved away first, pulled a thick white towel from a rack and spread it open, drew me out of the shower. What he did next made my breath hitch. He scrubbed every inch of my body with the towel, beginning with my shoulders and moving down my back, across my belly, around each breast, my arms and sides, then my buttocks and thighs, down my legs and back up. The last thing he did was gently spread my thighs apart and clean my tender folds, wiping carefully downward and in to clean me of his still-leaking essence, his touch featherlight and almost reverent.

  I couldn't help but do the same. Another dry towel hung on the rack, and I rubbed it across his muscles, cupping his sack and massaging his flaccid member with it. It was a moment both tender and erotic, and I didn't know what to do with it.

  I followed him to his bedroom, a tiny space filled with queen-sized bed and a low dresser, and nothing else. No pictures, no posters or paintings or anything. The window was open, letting the brilliant noonday sunlight stream in, bathing everything yellow-white. The bed was neatly made already, the corners crisp, the blanket tucked in under the pillow in a line as straight as razor. On the dresser was a wide, shallow metal dish, filled with loose change, a single bullet shell, and a battered set of dog tags.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, naked, still trembling from the aftershocks. Jeff stood in front of me, looking down at me with an inscrutable expression on his face. He was just out of arm's reach, hands at his sides, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense, focused on me, sweeping and searching.

  "What?" I asked.

  He shook his head and closed the distance between us, standing between my knees. His member was right at eye-level, point down and seeming to be waiting for me to touch it. I looked up at him, gave him a smile as I put my hands on his hips, traced the line of the muscles on his thighs.

  I dragged my fingernail down the outside of his thigh and back up the inside edge to his groin. I watched his eyes as I traced my finger from the very bottom of his sack upwards, feeling the skin tighten under the pad of my finger, and then lifted him with my finger, tracing its length as well. His gaze was fiery, dark eyes glittering. His hands rested on my shoulders, not pushing or pulling, just touching me.

  I ran my fingernail down his length again, this time from the root against his belly down to the tip, then scratched the tip with my nail. The flesh was tightening, but he wasn't growing hard yet. He hadn't sprung into an instant erection, and I found myself enjoying the process of touching Jeff during his refractory period, learning the way his body looked and felt.

  I scootched back on the bed and moved to one side, patting the blanket beside me. He hesitates, then climbs on the bed beside me. As he turns his back to me, ever so briefly, I see the reason for the long sleeve shirts. He's been burned badly on his back, shoulders, and arms, running down to his elbows and across one forearm.

  He saw me notice. "Car accident, years ago."

  I roll to lay my head on his chest, and his arm snakes around my body to cup the curve of my hip, resting there with familiar, tender affection.

  "What happened?" I ask.

  He blows air through puffed out cheeks. "Long story. My buddy and I were driving the Seeney Stretch, up in the UP. Hit a deer, flipped a couple times. I was in the passenger seat. Got tossed out of the car, which prolly saved my life. Well, my buddy Brett wasn't so lucky. Got trapped under the car when it stopped rolling upside down. I was panicked. I'd known Brett all my life. Had to get him out, so I tried to flip the car on my own. I did, too. Adrenaline rush, that kinda thing. Flipped it over so I could drag Brett out. Problem is I was pushing on the bottom of the car, where things were hot. Burned me."

  That was the most I'd ever heard Jeff say all at once in my life.

  "Did your friend..."

  Jeff just shook his head and I let it go, turned my attention to sliding my palms along his body, fingertips exploring the heavy, undefined bulk of his muscles. I realized he's much bigger than I'd ever thought. His shirts made him seem smaller, somehow, but in reality, I think he would be much, much stronger than Chase.

  "I'm sorry to hear that," I replied, belatedly.

  "Long time ago." He shrugged, and turns his gaze to my body, nestled naked against his.

  Our warm flesh merged in one long point of contact. I felt comfortable there, held in his arms. Safe. The oddest thing was, even post-sex, still naked and feeling his hot skin and hard muscle, I felt just as at ease with Jeff as if we were setting up for a shift at The Dive.

  His palm moved from the swell of my hip to the hollow of my waist, then down to graze my ass, curling around one cheek and hefting it, following the crease down to the fold where ass meets thigh and back up. He rolled so I landed on my back, supporting his head on his elbow. His free hand continued its slow exploration of my body, leaving nowhere untouched. He circled my kneecap, up the inside of my thigh, dips into my navel and the sides of my belly, my ribs; he spends forever on my breasts, lingering on every square inch of skin.

  At last, at long last, he moved his attention downward, tickling my belly, my thighs, and finally slipping one long index finger to the keyhole gap of my core. I moved my legs apart, greedy for his touch, hungry to be stimulated, turned on, toyed and played with and sated. He didn't touch me to bring me to climax, at first. It was the same way he touched the rest of my body, as if...as if memorizing my body, creating a mental map of my curves to remember.

  "You're beautiful, Anna." The way he said it, his was voice softer than I ever remember him speaking, a world away from the gruff voice he uses most of the time.

  It was three words, but coming from Jeff it was worth ten thousand words. He was spare with words, to the point where sometimes getting him to use complete sentences could be a chore, like dragging answers from a teenager.

  "Thank you."

  He gave me his Jeff smile, the upward quirk of one corner of his mouth, just a twitch of the muscles, but a smile nonetheless.

  I leaned up and kissed him, a slow meeting of lips, a gradual exploration of mouth-space with tongues. His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me closer, rolled me to my side facing him. One arm was trapped between us, and I used that one to touch his manhood, stiffening now under my caress. My other hand slipped up his back and rested between his shoulder blades, stayed there.

  Encouraging him to full girth was a slow process, deliberately so. I could have used my mouth to speed it up, but I enjoyed just touching him, holding him, feeling its weight in my hand, brushing the tip in slow, small circles, cupping his balls in my palm, sliding up his length and back down in lazy dips and rises, twisting around him in spirals.

  I wasn't even aware of movement, of a change of position. I blinked, breathed, and found Jeff above me, kneeling between my thighs, his hands on either side of my face, his flinty near-black eyes soft on mine, searching my face.

  I didn't need to guide him in with my hands. He found my entrance without taking his eyes from me, as if his body knew exactly where to merge with mine. He slipped inside me with exquisite slowness, utter gentility, as if I were delicate. In the shower, he'd claimed me slowly, but his desire had been there beneath the surface, bo
iling within him like magma surging to the core of a volcano; he'd forced himself to go slow, as if savoring the experience.

  Now, he went slow out of pure desire to simply take his time, in no rush, no hurry. He dipped down and kissed me, his tongue flicking out to meet mine in the rhythm of his hips' lunge against mine. My arms floated up as if borne on unfelt winds to wind around his neck as he kissed me; he slipped one thick forearm beneath my head as a pillow, and with his other hand cupped and caressed my breasts, whisking his palms across my nipples, tweaking them, circling and lifting and squeezing, as if he could never get enough of touching them.

  All the while, his slow, inexorable thrusting into me, breathing unchanging, eyes locked on mine when we weren't kissing. And, just because it was Jeff, he was silent.

  Then, when the fluttering of climax began in my belly and I moaned in his ear, wrapped my legs around his waist, he allowed himself one barely audible "mmmmm" in my ear, and then another when I dug my nails into his back.

  He slowed, then. Just when my climax began, and his neared, he slowed, dragged it out. He wrapped his other arm under my head with the first, and now his thrusts were merely at the surface, barely entering, shallow dips, quick plunges and back out. I whined high in my throat, protesting the change. He only kissed me, and then plunged deep, once, drawing a gasp from me. Back to flutters, then, kissing me at each thrust, touch of the lips and thrust, again and again, his tongue darting between my lips each time.

  The deepest stroke yet, then, burying himself inside me, "mmmmmm" in my ear, breath on my cheek. Again, and deeper. Oh lord, another, deeper, and so slow. A rhythm, then, back to the exquisitely slow strokes, deeper than ever, hips grinding at each apex.

  The only sound was our breathing, an occasional whimper, a soft "mmmmmm" from Jeff; sunlight streaks across our bodies, bright and hot.

  The climax rose, brought from a small flutter to a sudden hot impending pressure, a kind of crushing need in my belly, deep inside me. This was like nothing I'd ever experienced. He took his time, pulsing into me, building up to the peak in steady blocks of pleasure, backing away from the edge each time, but not enough to allow us to slip back down and lose the burning need for release.

  I couldn't have said how long he'd been above me, tireless and supporting his weight so no part of him rests on me. Minutes? Days? I didn't know, and didn't care. The unhurried pace was delicious, each stroke filling me completely, each thrust delivering wondrous pleasure throughout me.

  I knew, when climax came, it would be blinding in its intensity, would carry on for an eternity. I had no doubt he would bring me there, in his own time, and I was perfectly content to let him take me there in his own time.

  Slow strokes, deep and gentle, were replaced by longer, harder thrusts, after a time. I wrapped my legs around his ass again, pulled him against me at each thrust.

  He wrapped an arm around my leg, and then other, and he was supporting his weight on my legs, kneeling above me, driving so deep, deeper than I'd ever been taken, so perfectly, incredibly deep, I thought perhaps he may lose himself inside me, and it struck me that perhaps this was exactly his desire, to bury himself within me and never leave.

  In that moment, I wouldn't have argued.

  The climax erupted, then, with my legs near his chest, held by his arms. It wasn't a sudden detonation, it was an inevitable overwhelming floodtide, washing through me not in waves but in a gradual up-surging. Our pace increased, but imperceptibly, until he was driving into me with relentless speed, but still gentle, never pounding.

  "God, yes," I whispered, my first words since we began. "More."

  He released my legs and curled over me, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clung to him, held tight to him as he found his release, and now I came with him. It wasn't hard, or explosive, or shattering. It was an intense falling into perfection, a coming home.

  When he laid down next to me once more, I pillowed my head on his chest, felt his arms wrap around me, and fell into the deepest, most restful slumber of my life.

  * * *

  It was late evening when I woke up, facing away from Jeff, with his arm around my belly. His erection was a hard lump between my ass cheeks, and I knew by his breathing he was awake.

  I'd never before woken up aroused, but in that moment I felt a rush of dampness drip through me, my nipples standing on end. I pushed my ass into him, took his hand and brought it to my breast. He writhed into me, caressing my breast with gentle fingers.

  I rolled to my stomach and rose up on my forearms and knees. "Take me like this," I said.

  Jeff rose up to his knees behind me, palmed my ass with both hands and spread me apart, and now I felt the first touch of his tongue to my sex, an erotically slow lick up the length of my folds, followed by another, each striking deeper, starting at my nub and moving upward to my perineum. Each swipe of his tongue had my hips bucking, had me rocking forward and back into him.

  Gentle and slow and relentless and methodical, this was his way, bringing me to a gasping, whimpering climax in a puddle on the bed. Then he entered me, dipping a finger into me and following it with his erection and driving deep. I was collapsed on my face, still shuddering from the first orgasm when he drove into me, and I immediately, automatically rose back up to push back into him.

  What I wanted, then, was for him to lose himself in me, to make him forget the gentility. I wanted his pleasure in me to be...rapturous, a turn around for the way he'd so carefully brought me to climax.

  I rocked backwards into every thrust, moaning with each motion.

  "Yes, Jeff, yes," I said, "Take me, take me hard."

  "Don't wanna hurt you," he grunted.

  He was moving faster now, gliding into me with his hands on my back, pulling me into him.

  "You won't, I promise."

  I slammed my ass into him, forcing him deeper, and again, and now he was beginning to lose control, growling low his throat, a long rumble as he pushed into me.

  "Yes, yes," I gasped, "Just like this. God yes, it feels so good."

  He was gripping my hips now, jerking me down onto himself, all technique abandoned, moving furiously. The explosions began, going from zero to full bore with seconds, from devouring him and loving it to frenzied orgasm with the space of a single thrust.

  He came into me, clawing his fingers down my spine, thrusting slow and so wonderfully hard, my tits bouncing. His seed filled me, a hot jet spurting throughout me, drilled harder and deeper as he continued to climax.

  I was shrieking with every thrust into me, sometimes whimpering his name, sometimes a wordless wail of ecstasy. His crushing thrusts slowed, finally, and he withdrew, pulling me down back into his arms.

  "Goddamn, Anna. You make me feel so good," Jeff said, breathless.

  I rolled into him, kissed him hard and full of passion. "So good. So good."

  Silence, filled with our hands exploring each other's bodies, an almost idle survey of skin.

  "I'm hungry," Jeff said. "How about some dinner?"

  * * *

  Maggiano's was busy, humming with subdued energy. It was a Saturday night, and from what I knew, you had to have reservations to get a table here on the weekends, but somehow Jeff had managed it.

  I stood next to him as we waited for the host. He was dressed simply, in blue jeans and a crisp, spotless white button down and leather dress shoes, but he made it look formal, almost dressy. I realized again how attractive he really was.

  When the host led us to our booth, Jeff's hand found my skin between my shoulder blades, where the back of my dress left my back bare, and even that small amount of contact left me trembling. A gentle, casual touch, but it was enough to make me want to feel his hand brushing down my back, sweeping across my naked backside again...

  My sexual frustration was gone, but in its place was a raging, insatiable hunger. Now that I'd felt Jeff, had him, been in his bed and experienced his slow, thorough plundering, I couldn't get enough.

  His dark
eyes roved the restaurant, his big, warm hand holding mine gently. His presence next to me, his hand in mine...it felt natural, easy, and comfortable. But at the same time there was a sense of nerves in my belly, nerves and something else, a burning, fluttering of desire. His eyes found mine, and my heart pattered, thumping in anticipation.

  We sat side by side in the booth, the light low and soft yellow, conversation from other tables washing over us in a dull blur of sound, Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald filling the spaces. We drank expensive wine, lingered over soup and salad, knees brushing, me asking questions and him answering in his typically spare way. I learned he'd been in the army for four years, done two tours in Iraq and been stationed in the Philippines. He skipped over the army bit, saying only that he'd been a grunt, seen combat, and that was it. I could tell he didn't want to talk about it. I knew if I asked, he'd tell me, but he'd rather I didn't ask.

  As we ate, I let my hand wander underneath the table to rest on his thigh. I was feeling...daring. At first, I simply left my fingers on his leg, but, over the space of several minutes, let it drift incrementally higher until Jeff lifted an amused but surprised eyebrow. He gasped audibly when I moved my hand high enough to feel his package, a thick lump even through the denim of his jeans. A few subtle zipping strokes of my hand on his groin had him hardening under my touch.

  "What are you doing, Anna?" Jeff whispered to me.

  "Doing? Nothing. What am I doing?"

  He growled, a low grunt of irritation, arousal, and amusement. "Teasing me."

  I circled my palm on him, felt him get hard enough to need adjusting. I tucked my fingers in the waist band of his jeans and pulled them away, allowing his erection to spring vertical.