by Tanya Chris
“Ready?” I asked.
“Are you?”
I nodded.
Deliberately, he leaned down, clearly communicating his intent to kiss me—no wine, no darkness, just a yes or no question. I lifted my chin. He touched his lips softly to mine, then smiled against my mouth.
“I’ll follow you,” he said.
I drove with half my mind while the other half played a movie of Nate and I in bed together—a very x‑rated movie. I remembered the feel of his cock under me rubbing against my clit, the warm silky skin of his neck beneath my mouth, his lips on my nipple, patient and firm.
The way he’d brought me to orgasm so easily, as though he knew my body better than I did, had been a revelation. It wasn’t the first time I’d rubbed myself up against a boy in a car, but it was the first time I’d come that way.
If I was being completely honest, I’d never come from another person’s body part before ever—not a cock, not a finger, not a mouth. If I was being completely honest, I had faked every orgasm I’d ever had with Alex, and not just with Alex. I was well-practiced at faking by the time I met Alex. From that very first boy in the back of the Buick who’d whined as I sat reeling—still dressed from the waist up, my no-longer virgin vagina aching unpleasantly—that he hadn’t been able to hold off long enough to make me come because it was taking me too long, through the college years and on to my wedding night, I’d faked what I couldn’t find.
I’d thought only I could make myself come, that I must be built differently from other women in some way that made my body parts not line up correctly with a man’s, but I’d never been with Nate, had I?
Everywhere he touched me, I responded. Every kiss was another strand in the web he wove around me, binding me helplessly to his will. I imagined him taking me to a new level of sexual experience where the physical pleasure of orgasm combined with the emotional warmth of joining to another person, where what I’d read in romance novels finally came true.
My mind flipped through a sequence of pictures—his head at my breast, his cock between my thighs, his mouth against mine, him spearing into me, our moving together united by passion, my body arching in waves of ecstasy, Nate moaning words of admiration and love in my ear, a very satisfied post-coital snuggle.
By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was wet and ready. Nate pulled in behind me and I ran to him, dragging him laughing from his car into my arms. The hell with the neighbors, I thought, as he bent his head to mine. Let them wonder. I kissed Nate, my excitement ramping even higher.
Why had I been waiting? I knew in my heart that once we consummated our relationship, the difficulties would be behind us. I’d pushed him too fast for a commitment, but he’d come around in time. And with Nate I’d be interested in sex. Very, very interested.
I broke the kiss, anxious to get him inside so we could play out my fantasy. I pulled him into the house, through the foyer, up the stairs, and into my bedroom.
Our bedroom.
Mine and Alex’s.
I stopped just over the threshold of the room with Nate behind me. He reached his arms around me and kissed my neck.
“Mmm, eager.”
My eyes were on the bed. Alex and I had slept on this bed together for fourteen years. In fact, we really needed a new mattress. I wished I’d thought to buy one before bringing Nate over, though bed or no bed ... I glanced around the room cataloguing Alex’s things where he’d left them: his alarm clock on his nightstand, his change jar on his dresser.
“Lissie?” Nate said, turning me to face him squarely. “You’ve got Alex eyes. Think about me, remember?”
“It’s the room.”
“We can go somewhere else.”
“No, this is fine.” I put my hands on his face. “Kiss me. I can’t think of him when you kiss me.”
He kissed me then, slowly, absorbingly, until Alex’s ghost was banished and my arms were tangled around Nate’s neck. His erection swelled against me reassuringly. I let him lead the way as he stripped me—first my shirt, then my bra. Each uncovered section of flesh received his attention.
He sat me down on the side of the bed and knelt in front of me, using the position to bring his mouth to a nipple. I tugged at his shirt and he lifted his head long enough to let me pull it off him. Then he returned to my breast, sucking and teasing at my nipples, using his mouth on one and his hand on the other. My nipples pulsed with sensation. I couldn’t decide which was better, hand or mouth. His mouth was warm and gentle, but his fingers were strong and rough. It was alternating between the two, I decided, that made it so magic.
His hands moved to the waistband of my pants. I let him draw them down, glad I’d worn nice underwear, although my panties were trailing down my legs with my pants. Nate didn’t even look at them as he pushed the whole bundle of cloth off to the side along with my shoes.
He leaned forward to bring his mouth to my pussy and I stiffened. I’d taken a shower before going to the theater, but then I’d been up and down those ladders. I knew I didn’t smell good, plus I’d never enjoyed this particular activity much. I couldn’t bear to be the center of attention that way. The expectation of my enjoyment was too heavy a burden. I pulled at Nate’s arms, trying to tug him away from his intention.
“Let me take off your pants.” I yanked at his arms.
He stood up so his crotch was about eye level. I unfastened that button I’d been trying so hard to unfasten the night before.
“Finally,” I joked, trying to bring back the laughter.
He smiled at me as I undid his zipper and pulled down his jeans. His cock stuck straight out at me, straining to escape through the fly of his boxers. I ran my hand along it, stroking it through the material before he had those off too. Now there was nothing but naked me and naked Nate with naked Nate’s naked cock staring me straight in the face.
I knew what he’d be expecting, so I put my mouth on the head, tilting my eyes to look up at him. He stroked my hair, waiting. I moved my mouth up and down his shaft, my hand firmly gripping the base to hold it steady. Nate’s hand tightened in my hair. He moaned a little, then yelped.
“Gentle,” he said, stroking my hair again.
I returned to my task, trying to be more gentle but unsure where I’d gone wrong. This was my standard blowjob technique and no one had complained before.
After what seemed like enough time, I pulled his dick from my mouth. I sat up and leaned back, waiting for him to take charge again, but when he started to kneel, I grabbed his arms and pulled him on top of me.
“I want you in me,” I said, aiming for sexy rather than controlling. I was ready for my orgasm now, for that pleasure he was sure to bring me which no one ever had before.
Nate scowled at me. “We’re just getting started.”
“I’m ready. I want you. I want this.” I pushed my hips up against his, pressing that hard cock against my pubic bone where I wanted it. I ground myself against him, letting him feel my wet readiness. Nate rolled off me.
“Where are you going?”
“Condom.” He found his jeans on the floor and removed a box of condoms from one of the pockets.
“I didn’t think of that.” I watched him open a foil packet and apply the condom to his dick with practiced assurance. Had I ever used a condom before? With Scott that first time, there’d been a wink, a prayer, and a sincere attempt to pull out in time. Before long I’d gone on the pill. Even between boyfriends it had been easier to keep my prescription filled than to stop only to start again.
With the condom on, Nate rolled onto his back on the bed. “Come here.” He tried to pull me on top of him.
“Not that way.” It was another center-of-attention, too-self-conscious thing, being on top.
“Like this?” He set himself on top of me with his weight on his elbows.
I nodded, still eager, though not nearly as ready. The preliminaries were dragging on forever.
“OK, then.” He slid into me slowly, then started to move
. I moved with him, waiting for the passion to overtake me. It didn’t. The motion felt nice, pleasant, even arousing in a tickly way, but it wasn’t building to any kind of crescendo. I opened my eyes. Nate was watching me intently.
I closed my eyes and moaned. I pushed myself against him harder and moaned again.
“Yes, yes,” I said, pulling at his hips to force him to pick up the pace. “Oh God, oh God.” I raised the pitch of my voice, letting my fingernails dig into his skin. I tilted my head back and gave a particularly loud groan, signaling that I was done.
When I loosened my hold on his hips, Nate slowed his pace. He shifted his weight back towards his knees and brought a hand between our bodies, his fingers finding my clit. Although I tried to kick my feet into his ass to urge him forward into a faster pace again, he kept fiddling with my clit, pressuring me. I faked a second orgasm.
Nate stopped moving. Had he come? I didn’t think he’d come. I felt his erection softening within me even before he withdrew it.
That was it. No fireworks, no thunder, not for either of us. Uninterested and uninteresting. It was no different with Nate because the problem was me. Hadn’t I known that already?
I was crying before I could stop myself.
“Hey now,” Nate said. “Don’t do that.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on an elbow to look at me.
I turned away from him, curling into an unhappy ball, the sobs choking me. “You hated it.”
“You didn’t like it either.”
“Yes, I did.” I cried harder to make my point.
“No, you didn’t.” He flopped onto his back with an exasperated sigh. “And if you can’t admit it, then we can’t fix it.”
I cried for a while longer, but he made no move to comfort me.
“You got some place I can put this thing?”
I looked at him over my shoulder. He had the condom off and was dangling it in front of him. I shook my head, a fresh wave of misery flooding my chest. I went back to my fetal position, letting the tears flow into my hands cupped around my face.
Eventually I couldn’t breathe through my nose. I went into the bathroom for a tissue. When I got back to the bedroom, my eyes red and my nose running, I was surprised to find Nate where I’d left him on the bed. He had his arms behind his head, looking at the ceiling. Looking absolutely miserable at the ceiling.
I got a robe from the closet. It had been hard enough to be naked in front of him when our hands and minds were occupied. Now it was impossible. I wished that he’d snuck off while I was in the bathroom the way I’d expected him to.
I sat down on the side of the bed, no idea where we should go next or how to get there. Nate’s stubborn silence baffled me. I could see he felt as edgy as I did, despite the feigned casualness of his posture, from the way his eyes didn’t blink, as though his own tears weren’t much farther away than mine.
He was very pointedly not looking at me, not tilting his head in my direction, not glancing now and then my way. He didn’t stretch out his hand to take mine, didn’t turn his body towards me, didn’t smile up at me. Minutes wore on and he neither spoke nor moved. What was he waiting for?
“OK,” I admitted.
He looked at me then. “OK what?”
I took a very deep breath and confessed what I never had to anyone, not even to Donna on our drunkest nights of girl talk: “I was faking it.”
He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed so he was next to me, and put his arm around me. He kissed my temple. I felt the tears return, but softer.
“You hate me now,” I said.
“I’m proud of you now,” he answered. He kissed my forehead again. I curled into him and let him comfort me.
“Why?” he asked when I started sniffling the tears dry.
“I can’t do it. I’ve never been able to.”
“That’s not true. At least, I’m pretty sure it’s not true. That night in the car—that was real, right?”
I nodded against his chest.
“Good. I have nice memories of that night.”
I smiled. I had nice memories too.
“OK, so we know you can.”
“Not with a man,” I clarified.
“That’s a little insulting.”
I peeked up at him to confirm the smile I heard in his voice. “You know what I mean. I can’t do it the right way.”
“Lissie, there’s no right way.” He stroked his hand down my hair, brushing back my bangs so he could see my eyes. “There are only ways that work for you and ways that don’t. Today we learned that straight-up missionary position does not.”
“How did you know?”
He shrugged, making his chest move beneath my head. “I know that most women need something more than a dick moving in and out of them. It was highly unlikely you were coming that easily, that quickly. I hadn’t earned it.”
“So how come no one else ever figured it out?”
“People believe what they want to believe, I guess, and I’d seen the real thing, so I had something to compare to.”
I was glad we’d had that at least, that one night. I didn’t know if we’d ever have more. “What do we do now? We can’t just have sex with our clothes on in the back of a car.”
“Yes, we can, if that’s the only way to get you off. I have some other ideas, though.” He smirked down at me. I was glad to see the spark back in his eyes. “How about we try it my way this time?”
“Um.” I’d gotten a glimpse of his way when he’d knelt before me.
“You owe me,” he said. “Not an orgasm—that happens or not. You owe me honesty. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“OK, then honestly, why can’t I go down on you?”
I hesitated, embarrassed to even put into words the embarrassment I felt. “Because I feel like you’d only be doing it so I’d like it, and I wouldn’t like it anyway.”
“Because when you were going down on me, you were only doing it because I’d like it?”
I nodded.
“OK, we’ll work on that later. Here’s what’s important now—I’d like it very much.”
I shot him a doubtful glance.
“And,” he continued. “I think you’d like it too, if you weren’t working so hard at pretending to like it.” He pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him and kissed me.
My first reaction was to tense up, fearful of what came next, but I couldn’t stay tense, not with his lips tugging gently at mine. I grew warm in his arms. I untied the belt to my robe and shrugged it off my shoulders. Nate made a sound of appreciation against my mouth and moved his hands up to my waist. I felt his penis grow chubby against my bottom.
He rotated us, laying me back against the bed, dropping to his knees between my legs.
“Nate,” I squealed, the panic returning.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Did you know I could smell you in the car that night, right through your pants?”
“No.” I drew back from him.
“Yes,” he said, his hands clamping down on my thighs, not allowing me to get very far away. “It was driving me crazy that I couldn’t get closer to your pussy then. Don’t take it away from me now.” He leaned in and nuzzled his nose right into me. “You smell like sex in a bottle, just the way I remember.”
He stopped talking then, his mouth pressing into me, the whole wet warmth of it melding into my own wet warmth.
“Mmm,” he said again, the vibration teasing me. “You taste better than you smell.” His tongue curled up and around my clit once, making me jump. He was licking all around me softly, his nose bumping against my clit, his tongue coming up beneath it.
I wanted to enjoy it, I really did, but the fear kept coursing through me.
“Nate?” I asked, trying to squirm away.
“Stay still,” he said. “I’m working here.”
“I want to ask you something.” I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him.
He lifted his head. I saw my s
limy wetness covering his face from chin to nose and winced.
“Do you really like it?” I asked him. “Swear?”
He linked his hands with mine and yanked so that I was sitting upright. Looking down at him, I saw what he intended me to see—his hard cock jutting out between his legs.
“OK?” he asked me.
“OK,” I said, convinced by the hard—literally—evidence in front of me. I lay back down and willed myself to relax. If it made Nate happy, if it made Nate horny, I could let him lick me for a while.
Finally given free access to my pussy, Nate dove into it with gusto. What had been slow, gentle licks around the edges became more focused pressure directly on my clit. His mouth surrounded it—lips, tongue, even lightly applied teeth all working together to create a medley of sensation.
If I could have vocalized a complaint about oral sex in the past, it would have been one of insufficiency. My own fingers were broad and firmly applied. My partners’ tongues had felt distantly light yet ferociously sharp, like pinpricks of pleasure. Whereas Nate was—
“Oh!”
Nate was ... mashing was the only word I could conjure up just then. Nate was mashing his face into me—steady wet pressure surrounding his broad driving tongue, his upper lip grinding down against his lower lip, my clit caught between them in a delightful vice, held helpless.
“Nate,” I breathed out. I tried to pull away, confused and overwhelmed. His hands tightened on my thighs, anchoring me in place. I whimpered, momentarily desperate to escape.
Surrender, surrender, his mouth insisted. His fingers were restless against my thighs. I could feel his passion through them, urging me forward.
Too much, I thought. As if he heard me, he backed off, sliding his tongue lower so that it lapped at the opening to my pussy. Automatically my pelvis tilted, trying to realign his tongue with my clit. He lifted his chin, fastening his mouth over me again and in a heartbeat all hesitation left me.
I needed what he was offering. I put my hands on his head, pulling him into me, pressing forward, holding him captive to my pussy as he eagerly ate it.