His Rules

His Rules

By

Jack Gunthridge

His Rules

By

Jack Gunthridge

© 2014. Jack Gunthridge

Chapter One

              There are some men you meet who will instantly change your life.  And then there are those that slip into your life and become important to you without you even realizing it. 

We were both completely different people when we first met.  I hated him back then.  I thought he was arrogant and rude.  Even though he was cute, well-educated, and had a great sense of humor, there was something about him that turned me off.  I think it was that he was constantly watching me as if he could see through me.  He was a writer, fresh out of college, with a promising career.  Having gotten hired at one of the better magazines in New York, he was introduced to some of the better people in the city, like the crowd I had always run with.  His education and manner couldn’t disguise the fact he wasn’t born rich.  I think I hated him more for that reason than anything else.

When I first met him, he was way off limits.  And I didn’t think of him in that way, since he was dating one of my friends, Kristin.  She was a good ten years older than I was, but we had grown up together.  Our families were friends, and she used to babysit for me. 

She had met him at a wedding.  I think they got together because he was younger than she was, and she needed that.  He seemed to be more style than substance, which pleased her.  She would date men like this in an attempt to deceive herself that she wasn’t aging.  I never knew if the men were dating her for her money, for her advanced sexual techniques she flaunted about in her conversations, or for the fact that she put out.

              I don’t mean for that to sound bad.  Men have a habit of knowing which women are easy to bed.  Even he has said, “Men are like electricity.  We take the path of least resistance.”  Of course, he said it with a twinkle in his blue-grey eyes and with a smile playing on his lips.  I have always found him to be the most handsome, the most charming, and the most aggravating at these times.  I’m torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to smack him as hard as I can.  I don’t think it would bother me so much, but I get the feeling he knows I find him attractive and is playing with my head and emotions.  It’s like he’s trying to get me to admit something, so he can then deny he feels the same way.

              I don’t think he would affect me this way, but… Since I first met, my opinion of him has changed.  He is my best friend, and yet, in a lot of ways, I don’t really know him.  The more he lets me in, the more he seems to be a mystery to me.  I get the feeling he enjoys being a mystery.  He seems to have rules and will deny himself certain pleasures because of these rules.

                I have often wondered how different my life would be right now if he didn’t have these rules.  I have heard Kristin’s story of how they first met.  It was at a wedding.  He was sitting all alone while the rest of the people his age were dancing.  She came up to him and said, “Single or gay?”

              “Excuse me?”

              “Single or gay?  Those are the two types of men that sit alone at wedding”, she said. 

              When she tells the story, she always talks about how a smile came to his lips and a twinkle entered his eyes as he said, “I’m straight and single.  I’ve just grown tired of the game.  This is the sixth wedding I’ve been to this year.  The bride and bridesmaids might change, but it’s always the same group of women my age trying to find a man to prove to the world they are successful.  They don’t care what the man is like as long as they can somewhat get along with him enough to get married and pop out at least one kid before she hits thirty and thinks she’s going to suddenly become barren.”

              “And what about women who are over thirty without any children?”

              He looked at her, and I don’t know what he saw, but he said, “I will take a woman in her thirties any day over a confused girl in her twenties, who doesn’t really know what she wants.”

              Over the course of the conversation, he made her believe he didn’t know she was in her thirties and she was the most beautiful woman in the room.  I have seen him do something similar to this many times.  He does this with the utmost sincerity, but I always get the feeling he knows the game we are all playing in life. 

              His game… His game may be that he doesn’t see love as a game at all.

              Once, when he was single for an extended period of time, I asked him why he wasn’t seeing anybody.  Without disclosing too much, I told him he was handsome, successful, sensitive, and good with children.  He would make any woman happy.

              He told me, “That’s the problem with women.  They’re always judging a man by his market value.  I wasn’t born to be any woman’s possession, and I’m not going to sell my
genetic stock
at a discount price just to make myself somehow feel accomplished by continuing the human race.”

              He said it with a charming smile and without taking his eyes off of mine.  It was like he was daring me to make him settle down.  As we both waited for the other to cut the tension that was building, he finally broke it while breaking my heart and making me want him more.

              “Did Kristin ever tell you about the first time we made love?”

              I shook my head no.  It was all I was capable of doing as I tried to hold back the tears.

              “It was the first night I had met her.  I don’t remember now whose wedding it was.  I know she approached me in a sexual manner and wanted me just for my body.  I flirted back because she was different from every other woman there.  She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it, even if there was the possibility of the younger man turning her down because she was no longer as young as she once was.

              Youth may have no longer been her ally, but she had confidence, poise, and the ability to carry on an actual conversation.  She wasn’t interested in me as a potential husband.  She was interested in me as a person.

              Between the alcohol and the dancing, what I remember most about that night was how she pointed you out to me on the dance floor.  You were with Rick then.  She told me how much she loved you and thought you were making a mistake by seeing him.  She wished you could see yourself the way she saw you, so you could realize how much better you could do than him.  She had given you too much dating advice over the years to see you waste yourself on a guy like him.

              As we continued to dance and talk, I could see her becoming torn between wanting me to be with you and taking me for herself.  I ended up making the decision for her when I kissed her.  You were still young and didn’t know what you wanted out of life.  Your former baby sitter and closest friend was a lady that needed me.”

              I had heard about their first time several times, but it was always from Kristin’s point of view.  Before I knew him, I thought she was just telling me about her sexual exploits to let me know how well-endowed he was or the way his abs looked while he was making love to her.  She had a tendency to be a drama queen and wanted to make sure everybody knew her sex life was better than yours.  Part of me thought her life was kind of empty so she made everything that much more epic.

It wasn’t her graphic descriptions that made me want him.  I can’t say it was his looks, personality, or growing fame and fortune.  It was when he would talk to me I started to really have feelings for him.  He listens to every single word that comes out of your mouth and makes you feel like it is the most important conversation he has ever had.  I have never been able to tell if his eyes are searching my soul, or if he is looking at my lips as if he wants them to be doing more at the moment than talking. 

I don’t know when everything about him began to make me wish Kristen’s description of her first time with him was me kissing him with my left arm around his waist and my right hand on the back of his head pushing him in closer to me.  His hands are lifting up my dress and caressing my back side.  He’s pulling me in closer to him to where I am aware of growing desire through his jeans.

              As we pause to catch our breath, he pulls my dress up over my head and tosses it aside.  With my skin bared, he goes in for my neck and works his way to my shoulders.  His kisses are soft and tender like a chef savoring the taste of one of the finest meals.  As I throw my head back in ecstasy from the wonderful touch of his lips, he undoes my bra with such ease as if this is not his first time, but he makes you feel special and not just another conquest.  When you are with him, he has no past and there was never any woman other than you.  This moment is about you and not him.

              I don’t know what it was about the touch of his hands, but I let out a sigh which was a mini-orgasm in and of itself.  They gently slide down my back and rest around my waist.  They then stop, and I open my eyes to see his beautiful blue-grey eyes looking at me wanting some sort of response.

              I pounce on him.  He tries to return the passion I am giving him by pulling me closer to him so that his forearms are on the upper part of my bare back.  I feel the hair of his arms on my back, and I know I’m with a man and not some man-scaping pretty boy.  A woman knows the difference in how to treat a man and a boy, so I slap his arms off of me.  With a stunned look on his face, I bite his bottom lip and tell him through clenched teeth, “You’re mine.”

              As he goes willingly into submission, I kiss him as if he is a drink I cannot get my fill of.  I work my way down his neck and take in the smell of his aftershave.  As I get to his shirt, I forcibly pull the two sides apart until some of the buttons come out of the holes.

              Our breathing has increased by this time.  He sits down on the bed and starts to undo his belt and pants as I take off my bra he had unfastened and throw it to wherever it might land.  As he continues to take off his shoes and pants, I scoot over behind him.  I run my fingers through his dark, black hair, pull him back towards me, and nibble on his ear.  My breasts are against his smooth back.  I can’t stop myself with just his ears and neck.  I kiss his shoulders and muscular back while my hands feel his pecks.

              He has stripped down to his underwear.  I push him down on the bed.  I hold his arms down to let him know I’m in control.  As I’m holding them down, they are bent at the elbow so that he is really flexing.  Little tufts of armpit hair are sticking out.  I’m straddling him as I’m pinning him down.  This isn’t a contest of the wills.  Everything about his body screams that he could take me at any time and have his way with me.  He’s willingly letting me do with him as I please.  It makes it all the hotter knowing he trusts me and is holding his own desires in check.

              I find myself licking the outline of his biceps before working my way to his pecks.  He’s a lean, muscular man.  He’s not bulked up like he spends the majority of his day at the gym.  His nipples…  His nipples are small and like a delicious delicacy that sit gently atop his firm pecks.  My tongue plays with them and my mouth takes them in and then gently blows on them as I gauge his reaction from the feel of his dick through his cotton underwear as it rubs up next to my lace panties.

              As much as I want to play with him, I can’t fight the prize that is waiting for me.  I slide my body down his.  My hands get to enjoy his muscles as my bare breasts conform to his clothed penis.  I release him from the prison of his cotton boxer-briefs.

              There are well endowed men, and then there are men with an absolutely beautiful penis.  In terms of size, girth, cleanliness and maintenance, there could be none better.  And maybe it is a personal preference, but his sack didn’t scrunch up around his balls.  You could easily play with him and judge how you are doing in pleasuring him.  As much as I enjoyed the sweet saltiness to him, the best part was knowing he felt comfortable enough with me to handle the most sensitive part of his body.

              Before I could get my fill, he gently takes my hand which is resting on his upper leg.  I look up at him while I’m taking one of his balls into my mouth.  He motions for me to come up to him.

              I slink up to him so I’m on top of him.  As we kiss, he rolls me over so that he is on top.  He whispers in my ear, “Now I will let you know you’re mine.”

              Most guys fondle your breasts, or slobber all over them in their excitement.  He handled them as delicate little orbs that were objects of beauty to be cherished.  He ate of them like they were a delicious apple where each bite was to be savored.  With each bite, he made my own self-consciousness and insecurities disappear.

              By the time he kissed his way down to my panties and kissed me through them, I was ready for him.  I wasn’t prepared for him to take them off of me and to go down on me.  Most guys would have considered this enough foreplay and then start to satisfy themselves.  Not Jack.  He builds the tension to where you can’t wait for him anymore while making you feel like you are the most beautiful woman in the world.