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Reluctantly, she pulled out of the kiss. It was the first time she had felt him cut loose this evening. It was hard for her to let go, too, especially with someone she was getting to know. She was lucky to have picked good partners in the past. She couldn't imagine finding the confidence to do this otherwise. People said it was different for men, but she didn't believe that anymore. Over the last few years, she had watched men who were friends and coworkers stop taking the initiative around women. They didn't flirt as much, and they rarely gave a clear signal of interest, much less anything blatant enough to be labeled a pass. At first she had thought it was just her, but Lisa had complained about it, saying it was all the fault of over enthusiastic accusations of sexual harassment in the workplace conspiring to frighten men into passivity on all fronts. Joanna didn't think that was necessarily all of it. She had a feeling that as her own hormones made her more and more aware of her single status, all the men around her were finally able to take a step back and think with their brains and act with forethought. It was unfortunate, but not the end of the world. She knew how to make the first move, she told herself. And the second and the third and the fourth.
She propped herself back on her knees, then slid backwards out of his lap. She held a hand out to him. He eyed it. He grasped it and suck her forefinger into his mouth. "That is very distracting," she murmured, frozen in place.
He released her finger, but held onto her hand, wrapping it safely in both of his. She turned and walked down the hall to her bedroom, past the den.
The first thing he noticed about her bedroom was that the bed nearly filled it. It wasn't a king. He was fairly sure if you put one of those in the unit Joanna had, there wouldn't be enough room to walk around it on the sides. This bed was long, probably a western king, the size of most waterbeds. She sat down on it, so he sat next to her. It was not a waterbed. It was a futon. It didn't creak, or make any noise at all.
She turned on the bedside lamp that was sitting on one of the tiny tables on either side of the bed. There was no other furniture in the room. He assumed her clothes must all be in the closet. The bed wasn't made. It had a bottom sheet and a comforter with a duvet cover. The way the bedding lay, the clock and book on one table, all suggested which side of the bed she usually slept on. The room was like her, he thought. Quiet, no extra frills, but everything needed for comfort.
"If there's, uh, anything you need to do, the bathroom's right there. I'll be right back." Why was it always so hard to just come right out and say, hey, engage in some hygiene, we're about to do a lot of licking and we should both make sure we taste good? Everywhere. Especially those places that don't taste good so quickly, but feel so great when someone is licking on them. She didn't need to pee, and she could go use the sink in the kitchen, leaving the bathroom for him. She was glad she'd left a clean washcloth out on the bathroom sink. Sometimes it paid to plan ahead.
She had said something, he thought. He replayed it in his head, remembering it as she repeated herself. She was leaving for a moment. He frowned, wondering what she was waiting for, then realized he was still holding her hand tightly in his. He let go.
"I'll be right back," she said, as she disappeared down the hall. He shucked his jeans and boxer-briefs, leaving them on the floor. He went into the bathroom. He didn't think about how difficult it was going to be until he got there. He shuffled through his least sexy memories, trying to find one bad enough to at least reduce his reaction. Remembering the bathroom at home after his mother had been extremely drunk did it. He didn't remember ever having this problem before when he wanted to pee before having sex. He racked his brains briefly, trying to figure out why. Probably because every other time he was about to have sex recently, it had taken a long, long time to get to this point, and usually there had been a few Booty Call-style detours to get supplies. He hadn't realized what a damper those detours had put on his own need. Maybe those detours served an important purpose. He wondered if women did that on purpose to slow guys down. It wouldn't surprise him.
He found a clean washcloth next to the sink and thought once again that Joanna must have planned for this, at least as a possibility. That brought his erection back immediately. He sure liked this kind of planning a lot better than the other.
She wasn't in the bedroom when he returned, but she must have come back. There were two condoms on top of one bedroom table. She had said she had Kimonos, but she had set out Maxx. Technically, he supposed, those were Kimonos, but he wondered. Was that all she bought? Was that part of the decision to invite him back into her bedroom? Did she buy these to flatter her dates? Or was there a size selection hidden away somewhere in this spare, but comfortable, apartment? Once again, he thought that while Joanna was shy, he couldn't assume she was either ignorant or inexperienced. And judging by that story she had told, she hadn't been ignorant or inexperienced for a long time. There might an age difference of over ten years between them, but that didn't necessarily mean much in this context.
He heard the water shut off in the kitchen. He watched her walk down the hall, still wearing her silk shirt open down the front. She was carrying a nearly full glass of water in one hand. The bra, however, had disappeared. The silk felt good to touch. He was glad she had kept it on. He wondered what it would be like to rub that against other parts of her long, curving body.
The way she moved had appealed to him from the beginning. Her left leg moved slightly slower than her right, but what might have been a limp was instead a lilting movement, adding to the sway of her hips. He could see she was playing it up for his benefit now. That deserved recognition. He pursed his lips and wolf-whistled.
He was completely focused on watching the movement of her breasts as she strode into the room, each jutting out, pulled taut by a crinkled nipple. He found it hard to believe she didn't have men tripping over themselves trying to get at her. Then again, he wasn't going to argue with anything that benefited him. It wasn't the first time his luck was the direct result of rampant human stupidity.
She stopped in front of him. She set the glass down on the bedside table, completely conscious that he was staring at her, which was good, given the entrance she'd just made. The whistle had given her a warm tingle all over, making it easy to keep her shoulders back. If there was a time and place for Man to primitively salute Woman, this had to be it. She'd be feeling all kinds of fool if he weren't all but drooling. No matter how much she psyched herself up, she never really felt nude when there was another person around. She felt naked, and wanted to curl up and hide as much as possible. But with this kind of response, she felt like a goddess. Goddesses are never naked, no matter how little they're wearing. Their bodies are ceremonial garments, concealing ancient treasure sought by all.
He brought his hand up to lightly trace along her side, feeling her through the silk. "You are so beautiful." His hand dropped back down as he drank her in.
"Thank you. You have a gorgeous body," she replied more calmly than she felt. Even in this light, she could see traces of old scars scattered across his body. She reached out to touch one. He held still, holding his breath for a moment, before exhaling slowly. She didn't ask what the scars were from. From the scars, she moved to the edges of his pectoral muscles, then down to trace his abs.
She had not meant for him to freeze up, as flattering as that might be. She'd have to suggest something specific for him to do with all that glorious male lust. Clearly, he was lost in the possibilities right now. What to do? He'd mentioned 69. That was a tricky position, awkward even with a familiar lover who was comfortable to be with and motivated to behave well in order to keep coming back. With someone new? It was hard enough with a new lover to feel a connection. The sheer physical awkwardness of sex often made Joanna take a step back and detach. It was easiest to reconnect when face to face. Seeing the other person look as happy, or as awkward, or as uncertain as I feel makes such a difference, she thought to herself.
But with Hale, it felt different already. She didn't have to force herself to act confident. She just felt it flow.
He was still standing by the bed, wondering a little whether he should make the next move, but mostly just waiting. Giving Joanna a little time to decide what to do and do it was one of the most rewarding discoveries of Hale's life. She stood in front of him, absorbing his gaze and languidly returning it with a sensual half-smile. It broadened slightly as she reached up to his shoulders with both hands. Pulling slightly on one shoulder and pushing solidly back on the other, she turned him. Once he understood what she wanted him to do, he turned readily, his back now to the bed. Then she pushed solidly on both at the same time, leaning into it. Surprised, but trusting her implicitly, he allowed himself to fall back onto the futon.
Pleased that he hadn't grabbed at her or fought for balance, Joanna smiled at him as she knelt on top of him. But as she settled astride him, his hands gripped her, pulling her further up his body. When one of her breasts was within easy reach of his mouth, he arched up to take it in his mouth.
She could feel her whole body tingling as his mouth explored her breast, circling the aureole, then grazing the erect nipple lightly with his teeth. She moaned softly, leaning forward on her hands. She felt him explore her arms through the silk of her tunic with his fingers, tracing the outline of her flexed triceps. He stopped suckling long enough to murmur, "Nice muscles," then switched to her other breast. She flexed her biceps briefly for his benefit. Then she put all of her weight on one elbow and forearm, and reached down to slide her hand across his chest and abdomen. Better muscles, definitely. "Oooh, yours are even better," she murmured.
It was nice to have her on top of him, Hale thought. The curve of her breasts was exaggerated, and he thought could reach all of her without having to worry about crushing her beneath him. Everything was right there, waiting for his touch and incredibly responsive. The open edges of her silk shirt stirred against his skin, tickling lightly. When he felt her lift a leg off him, scooting off to the side, he had to stifle a protest. So far, everything she had done was wonderful.
Crouching to his side, Joanna could still kiss Hale, enjoying the sensual pleasure of his slow tongue. But now she could also reach down to grasp him. She fondled the head for a moment, tracing the bottom of it before encircling the shaft. She was careful not to rub too hard. With no lubrication, she knew the friction would be uncomfortable and she wasn't sure he would be willing to stop her until after it became painful. As she reminded herself not to press too hard, she remembered the shirt she was still wearing. Taking part of the bottom of her shirt in her hand, she wrapped it around him, feeling him through the silk. It both softened and exaggerated its shape.
When he felt her reach down, he fought the temptation to just lay back and enjoy whatever she chose to do to him. Instead, he mimicked her actions by reaching around between her legs to find her soft, damp folds. She was even more wet now than she had been on the couch. He felt her wrap silk around him and rub him gently through it. Had she somehow pulled that image straight out of his head? He thought about using that silk on her. Would her dampness destroy the silk, or would it wash out? He didn't know.
She was scooting further on the bed, rotating around. He tried to keep his fingers between her legs, but when he felt his shoulder impinge, he changed the angle of his arm to better reach her. He was uncertain what she had in mind. He didn't really care one way or the other, but whatever it was, it didn't seem very comfortable for either of them. On the other hand, her breasts were once again near his mouth. He grasped her shoulders to pull her nearer, but then she slid the rest of the way out of his reach. No longer intent on her response to his touch, he figured out what all the maneuvering was for.
"My clumsy hints for 69 worked, then?" he murmured thickly. She kissed him deeply by way of answer, sliding her tongue into his mouth. It felt strange, kissing her upside down this way. Weird, but good. As she continued crawling down him, he planted a trail of wet kisses between her breasts and across the curve of her belly.
"They didn't seem clumsy to me," she replied huskily. She caught one of his nipples lightly between her teeth, releasing it quickly. "I wasn't entirely sure you were hinting. You might have just been curious."
"Of course I ask questions like, 'Do you still do 69' casually, with no particular intention. All the time. That's me. Always asking the nosy personal questions for no reason at all." He reached up towards her hips and pulled, encouraging her to slide further down. Then he helped her position her knees on either side of his head. As he arched his neck up to reach her, it occurred to him that a pillow under his head would probably help a lot. He felt around on the bed for one.
"Sarcasm is not the best tactic of a man in need of a pillow who can't reach one on his own," Joanna commented. She handed one back to him. He folded it and shoved it under his neck. "Besides, you're in a very vulnerable position here." She blew air across his erection.
"And you're not?" Hale asked, pleased to discover that the normally very quiet, very slow to react, very polite Joanna was blossoming in bed.
"Perhaps you've failed to notice that I'm on top?"
"You're sounding cocky, Joanna."
"Are you now committing puns? We're having sex here, you know. Not a good venue for bad puns."
"Mmmm mmmm," she heard. She felt his tongue circle one of her labia and stroke upward to her clitoris. The conversation, while entertaining, hadn't been that important anyway. She lowered her head to take his head into her mouth. He was large, but not uncomfortably so. He was very hard, but she could taste no salty pre-cum. He tasted and smelled clean -- no chlorine, no salt, no sweat. She tensed her lips and slid her mouth up and down over the edge of the head a few times. He was sucking on her labia. She wondered what it would feel like if he did that to her clitoris. She'd probably have to ask for that. She liked direct stimulation, but she knew many women did not. He knew what he was doing, and probably would not go for direct stimulation without being prompted.
She stopped what she was doing to ask, "Would it be okay to rest one arm here?" As she asked, she lifted one hand to rest her forearm on his thigh.
"Not a problem. You can do pretty much anything you want to as long as I'm not bleeding and I can still breathe."
Wow, she thought. He sounded drugged. She used the hand which no longer supported her weight to cup his balls. If he was this happy, maybe she could rest both her arms on his legs. She might try that later. It was an awkward angle. She didn't want to tire too quickly.
Hale was shuffling through his memories of advice he'd been given over the years about What Women Liked. Some things he never forgot. Direct stimulation should be kept to a minimum unless directed otherwise. Spread the attention around. He'd never really liked the advice to do the alphabet to ensure a variety of motions, but he'd used it more often than he would be willing to admit, even to himself. As he'd learned more languages over the years, he'd switched from the ABC's to kanji. He figured that even a woman smart enough to figure out a guy was doing the alphabet was unlikely to also know Japanese script.
Unless the woman was really into penetration, shoving the tongue in wasn't going to be that fun for him, and she wouldn't be that impressed either. If she did like that, firm tongue was important. He remembered one particularly drunken evening, when Brad had tried to give John advice on attracting and keeping women in his life. Brad had decided early on that John wasn't likely to make the kinds of lifestyle and personality changes most women seemed to want, and suggested instead that John should focus on making up for those negatives by being really, really good in bed. Brad firmly believed that for a man to be perceived as phenomenal in bed by a woman required long stretches of above average oral sex.
John, being John, and also being very drunk, had been unsatisfied with this advice and demanded detailed advice on what good oral sex was. Brad had tried to explain, eventually settling on a metaphor between oral sex and football plays. He'd gestured to indicate how the area between a woman's legs mapped to a football field, then gone on to how to map plays on the field to plays in the field. Direct plays through the middle should be avoided. Most plays should be along the sides. Lots of zigzagging. Hale had carefully kept his mouth shut through the entire discussion. He hadn't felt prepared to add anything and he had a lot of trouble just keeping a straight face.
So far, she seemed happy. He was certainly happy. He was starting to worry about being too happy, too quickly. Maybe he started working his way through the multiplication table. Kill two birds with one stone. Or something. Without thinking about it, his hands came up to trace the muscles in her thighs.
It would be hard to go down on Hale from any other angle, Joanna thought to herself, at least when he was this erect. She could not slide much of him into her mouth as it was. She compromised by rotating her mouth asymmetrically over his head and the top of his shaft, while sliding her other hand up and down his shaft. No lube needed now, she thought wryly. She was glad she'd brushed her teeth. She was definitely tasting herself now.
She felt, more than heard, his moan against her. She also felt his hands clench. She was not surprised that he had a strong grip. She could feel his tongue moving faster against her, pressing harder. She thought she could feel teeth graze against her clitoris. It felt fantastic, even though she flinched instinctively. As she pushed up with her knees, his grip tightened on her legs, preventing her from moving. She stopped using her hand on him, slowly tracing her tongue up and down the shaft. 69 was a great way to get around the who-gets-theirs-first politics of sex, but it got so hard to continue giving while receiving.
His tongue spiraled tighter and tighter around her clitoris. Distractedly, she matched his motions, licking around his head. She could no longer think of anything but what it might feel like if he were to suck, right there, not hard, but just for a second. She let her mouth close around him again and sucked, briefly, gently, exactly what she wanted. He responded perfectly. She immediately wished he would do it again, but he went back to the not quite random, unpredictable strokes that had driven her to this frenzy of anticipation. And his grip on her legs had not slackened. He was pulling her down closer to him. She cooperated by relaxing and leaning into him.
He didn't consciously notice when she stopped stroking him with her hands. He was glad when she stopped sucking, because he hadn't wanted to stop long enough to warn her he was about to come. The multiplication tables had come to a halt sometime around 12 X 13 and his world had closed to a very simple goal. He had felt small contractions, but he wanted to know what happened when she came, hard and long.
In the space of a few more heartbeats, he found out. She screamed into his thigh and every single muscle in her legs and across her buttocks clenched simultaneously. Everything clenched simultaneously. He slowed his sensual attack, but did not stop. He drew it out for a few moments.
She couldn't remember the last time she'd come that hard. It was never the same by herself, never as good as with a capable partner, and Hale was more than capable. He was phenomenal. Unfortunately, he was also cutting off the circulation in her legs. The aftershocks distracted her for a while. Eventually, she tried to move and found she couldn't. She called his name twice, but he didn't respond. The third time, she punctuated her, "Hale!" with a slap on his leg.
He had a feeling she'd been trying to get his attention for a while. His focus expanded. Detached, he saw his hands gripping her thighs. The skin around them was splotchily red and very pale. Oh, that's bad, he thought, relaxing his grip. "I am so sorry. Are you okay?" He tried to massage the part of her legs where he had been holding onto her. He'd left bruises. He couldn't believe he'd left bruises.
"Don't worry about it," she said with a laugh. She rotated off of him. Reaching over to the table, she grabbed a condom package and ripped it open. She looked at it carefully in the dim light and figured out which way it unrolled. He had raised up onto his elbows and was looking at her. He looked as dazed as she felt. She was starting to feel tingles all the way down to the soles of her feet in rhythm with her pulse.
She knelt in front of him and put the condom on the top of his penis, careful to leave room at the top. Leaning down, she used her lips and teeth to unroll it onto him. When she had it unrolled, he reached down to adjust it slightly. As he started to sit up, she placed the palms of her hands on his shoulders and pushed him firmly back down onto the pillows. Straddling him face to face this time, she leaned down to kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips, in his mouth, even on his chin. She obviously wouldn't need any lube right now.
She slid herself slowly onto him, moving her hips slightly from side to side as she fitted herself to him. He filled her, without stretching her unpleasantly. His length was perfect. She could take him entirely into her without banging on her cervix [that clearly needs to change, but that's what I mean, damnit] painfully.
He nuzzled her neck as she lifted up to stroke him a second time. As she pushed back down on him, his self-control finally deserted him. He felt her collapse onto him as the waves of his climax hit. She continued to stroke slowly, until he pressed her close to stop her motion. Even motionless, he could feel another small climax clench around him. She moved against him again, but he had to stop her. "Stop. I hate to say it, but you really need to stop."
A few minutes later, he reached between them to grasp the open end of the condom. She slid off of him and down to lie next to his side, snuggling against him. He dropped the condom into the wastebasket next to the bed. Spooning next to her, he could no longer fight the urge to sleep.
Joanna enjoyed the warm, sensual pleasure of afterglow for several minutes, snuggling against the hard, lean body that she had invited into her bed. He had fallen asleep, but she found she didn't mind at all. She wanted a few moments to think about what she had just done.
But when she tried to think, all she could do was to replay the last hour or so. The evening had started horribly, but the warmth and gentle pressures of the jetted hot tub had washed the pain of the early evening away. The drink had dulled her recollection further. But the time they had spent on the couch undressing each other, then in this bed, stood out in sharp relief in her mind, etched so vividly she almost felt it was still happening. She licked her lips absently, still tasting herself slightly from Hale's last kiss before dropping off to sleep.
He didn't snore. That was wonderful. She kept ear plugs, for when she shared a hotel room when traveling. She had dated a man who snored for a while in college, and worn ear plugs every night. At the time, it had been fine, but it was good to be able to listen to the quiet sounds they made and still know she could drop off to sleep at any time.
Joanna carefully slid out from under Hale's arm and leg. She'd never had a urinary tract infection and she wasn't about to start now. She went down to the bathroom to pee.
Hale woke up as soon as Joanna slid completely out from under him, but he made no immediate move. He had only been asleep for a few minutes, but she was already hopping out of bed. Why? The quiet scrape of the bathroom door put his fears that she was mad at him for falling asleep to rest. He rolled over and propped his head up on one arm to await her return.
The used condom on the floor next to the bed caught his eye. He really should take care of that, but he didn't know where she put her trash and he preferred to flush a used condom, anyway. He heard the toilet flush, and a moment later she came back into the room.
"You're awake," she commented as she slid back into bed next to him.
"Of course," he said as he rolled on top of her, trapping her beneath him. "You didn't think I was done, did you?" He felt her hand reach down to touch him. He was pleased to see the surprise on her face when she discovered he was already semi-erect again. "What, did you think I was too old?"
"I honestly hadn't thought that far ahead."
"Good," he said with satisfaction. "I think it's important to retain an element of surprise in a relationship." Surprised, then, by his own choice of words, he kissed her hard, then dropped off the bed. He scooped up the condom and headed down the hall to the bathroom before she could respond.
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Copyright 2013 by Rebecca Allen Updated July 17, 2013