The Night I Loved You — An Erotic Awakening (2 page)

My breasts were flushed, my nipples as hard as I’d ever felt them as you leaned in close and wrapped each of them in turn with your tongue. You alternated between moving close and leaning back, and I realized that you were tasting me with your eyes even as you tasted me with your tongue. You scanned every inch of my body, laid out before you now as fragile as a feather, shaking like a leaf. I was conscious of how wet I suddenly was down below, conscious of how overdue my pubic hair was for a trim. I was closing my legs suddenly as if to hide myself. Embarrassed. Afraid.

I was a virgin when I met J. in our sophomore year at college. You knew that already, because I knew that J. had told you that story. It was a confession he’d made to me during a moment of self-conscious sincerity when we first talked about moving in together. That state of affairs wasn’t something I was embarrassed about, no more than I was about any of the late start I got on life thanks to my parents. But it put me on the defensive with you now, feeling your hands work my breasts as you kissed me, gently rubbing my belly, tracing your way down towards my wetness, so slowly.

The feelings flooding through me were like nothing I’d ever felt before. And because I had nothing to judge them against, I had no way of separating out the feelings for you, and the feelings of guilt over J., and the feeling that I was simply too late to embrace something I had missed out on long ago.

J. wasn’t a player before I met him by any stretch, but he had a reasonably healthy string of relationships behind him. But then there was you and the steady stream of women I’d seen come through your life over three years. And though I never automatically assumed that you’d fucked them all, I was assuming it now. I saw you in my mind as a sexual connoisseur suddenly, and I was overwhelmed by the fear that having made this unparalleled commitment to you, my inexperience would fail to satisfy you.

“
Tell me what you want,” I whispered to you. And as if in answer, your hand plunged down between my legs, forcing them apart and cupping my wetness. Still on the couch, I arched up against you in an involuntary spasm as you moved in beside me. Your tongue was tracing the back of my neck, your hands trembling as they rubbed my ass. You spread me with your fingers, and I was so warm, so wet to your touch.

“
I want you,” you whispered in response, but I shook my head. I reached out to stroke your face, looking into your eyes as you slipped a finger inside me.

I gasped. “Tell me what you want…”

You held my gaze for what seemed like forever.

“
Take my shirt off,” you said, and I licked my lips as I grabbed you with trembling hands. I pulled the bottom of your tight black T from your pants and yarded it up. I traced my way up the faint line of hair on your flat belly, over the ridge of your pectorals, your small nipples so hard. I stood to pull the shirt over your head, so that we were face to face, body to body. And as your arms slipped around me and pulled me to you, your mouth met mine, biting hard as our tongues intertwined and we drank each other’s low moans for what seemed like forever.

“
Undo me,” you said as you breathlessly broke away, and I heard a raw hunger in your voice that made me even wetter. A hunger for me, a thing that I had only ever experienced with one other man before.

My hands were shaking now, so badly that it took forever to fumble your zipper down. I could feel your warmth as I fought with the buttons on your leather jeans. I could feel your hardness pulsing against my hands as I pulled your pants down, your underwear following. Then I was staring at your penis, long and thick and beautifully cut where it pushed up off the trail of liquid laid down along your leg.

“
Tell me what you want,” I whispered again.

“
Lick me,” you said, and I dropped back to the couch without a word. You pushed close as I leaned forward, my tongue reaching out to touch your swelling shaft. I caressed it with small strokes that tasted the salt of your sweat, the faint citrus scent of your body wash. I tasted your precum, sweet and salty where it oozed out of you, and then I was attacking you with my tongue, working it up and down your shaft and circling the sweet spot at the base of your head.

“
Suck me,” you said, and I did. Or I tried to at any rate. You were so hard, so thickly inflexible that I could barely fit you into my mouth. All the same, my need to taste you, to consume you was overwhelming, so that I forced myself down on you, feeling something pop in my jaw but not stopping. You gasped out loud as a shudder twisted through you, forcing you to thrust against me. I almost gagged but you pulled back in time, your hands in my hair as your throbbing member worked my mouth. I could feel its heat as I sucked for all I was worth, rubbing you with my lips, with my tongue, with my hands wrapped tightly around your shaft, made wet with my saliva as it flowed from me.

When you pulled out, I felt a rush that made me realize I’d been getting light-headed. Not knowing when and how to breathe with so much of you in my mouth.

“
Tell me what you want,” I said, and I heard the hunger rising in my own voice now.

“
I want to taste you,” you said, and then you were dropping to your knees, kissing my breasts and my belly on the way to the tingling warmth between my legs.

You felt my uncertainty as you spread me, a resistance there that you weren’t sure of. When J. and I met, cunnilingus was low on the list of his favorite intimate activities. He was eager enough to please me, but with no prior experience to make me miss the act, I quickly pushed it to the periphery of our bedroom schedule. It had lain there for a while now, all but forgotten. But when your tongue touched down on me, I realized suddenly the difference between things forgotten and things wholly unknown.

Your mouth played me like an instrument, working its way around my clitoris, then down my labia, sucking gently to lift me to a state of pleasure I’d never felt before. Not even J. on his best night, not even my wettest masturbation fantasies could match what your tongue was doing to me. I half-remembered having been worried about the state of my bush, but that only made the sensation that much more exquisite, your chin and cheeks gently stroking my pubes as you ate me.

I cried out as I felt your fingers enter me again, pushing in between my swollen lips as you worked my hardness with your tongue. Riding a wave of absolute pleasure, I felt a shock and a new sensation twisting up my spine as you slipped one wet finger into my ass as well. That was a place neither J. nor I had ever gone, and as my tightness clued you in to how new this was for me, you glanced up to make sure it was all right. I thrust down on you in response, feeling a delicious shiver of pleasure and pain as I took your fingers deeper inside me.

I lost track of the number of times I orgasmed to the magical touch of your tongue and your lips that night. I was conscious only of how you stopped at some point, and how sopping wet I was. My clitoris was buzzing as ferociously as the aftermath of the vibrator sessions that had been the introduction to my own sexuality, before J. took me the rest of the way.

You rubbed your way up my body, sucking at my navel, my nipples, my neck. Your erection was like steel where it pressed against my belly, and as your mouth found mine, I feasted on a musky sweetness that I realized with a thrill was the taste of my own wetness on your tongue.

“
Tell me what you want,” you said. Echoing my own words as your tongue traced its way along my ear. I shuddered as the pleasure of your touch twisted through me, gasping as I spoke.

“
I want you inside me.”

You smiled as you kissed me again. “Is that the best you can do?”

I felt more alive than I ever had. I felt my pussy aching for you, and I called it that in my mind like I normally never did. The taste of my pussy in my mouth mixed with the memory of tasting you. “I want you in me,” I said again. “I want it so bad.”

“
Tell me what you want me to do to you.” You were back to working my tits with hands and mouth, my nipples thrusting upright like tiny tongues, my areolas swollen and red.

“
I want you to do me. Make love to me, now.”

“
I don’t understand.”

But I understood you. As strange as it might seem given all that we had already done, I felt a final inhibition fall away from me. Neither J. nor I were particularly potent in the dirty talk department, but that night, in that moment, I tapped into a desire I had never known before.

“
Fuck me,” I whispered.

“
I can’t hear you…”

You were at my pussy again, diving in to suck my labia and my raw clit full into your mouth. I fought back the urge to scream.

“
Fuck me,” I said, louder now. “Fuck me now, fuck me hard. Fuck me with that big cock. Stick it in me, stick it in all the way…”

You were up like a shot, your erection in your hand and my legs spread as you licked my juices from your lips.

“
Tell me what you want,” you whispered, and the look of anticipation, of raw desire on your face was something I’ve never forgotten.

“
I want you to fuck me.” I felt a sweet pressure at my swollen labia as you rubbed yourself against my slit. A shiver twisted through me that I couldn’t stop, my eyes wide open. “I want you to fuck me,” I said, my voice heavy with desire. “Fuck me like you’ve always wanted to, like I know you’ve wanted to, so fucking hard for me for so long. Fuck me. Please, just fuck me…”

I have a confession. Even today, I have no real sense of how big you are. You’re bigger than J., and though I didn’t say so at the time, I’m pretty sure you figured that out. I honestly don’t know whether that means anything to you or not. It’s a guy thing, I know.

Before I met you, I had no real sense of how big J. was, at least in terms relative to the rest of the male population. I knew he seemed like the perfect size for my pussy, and too big sometimes for my mouth, by which I had always assumed I’d gotten one of the pleasantly higher percentiles on the
How does your man measure up?
charts.

My first time with J. hurt, because it was my first time.

My first and only time with you hurt, and I know you could tell. But I need you to know that I wouldn’t trade that pain now for any other feeling in the world.

Your thick head opened me up, even as the tremor I couldn’t control twisted through my body and threatened to shake you loose. As your thickening shaft opened me even wider, your hands gripped my waist to hold me tight, your arms under my legs to lift them at the same time. I was open as wide as I could possibly go, spread-eagled for you, helpless beneath you. Whispering your name, whispering “Fuck me,” over and over again as you groaned and slowly pushed yourself inside me.

As you hit bottom, I came all over you. That quick, that perfectly. My orgasm threaded through the exquisite agony of your massive dick stretching me wide. I needed to cover my rock-hard clit because I was afraid that if you accidentally brushed it, I’d scream. And as I did, I was astounded to feel half my hand’s width of your organ still outside me. As deep as anyone had ever gone in me, you still had more to give, and you were giving it to me now, pressing against me, your head striking bottom inside me, grinding slowly so that I came again.

All that long night was a glorious blur of motion and wetness, and the hardness of you, and the taste of you, and the look on your face as I begged you to fuck me again. I must have said that word more times that night than I ever had in my entire life. I certainly came to orgasm more times that night than I ever had before.

You fucked me slowly to start, taking me on the couch with my legs spread wide and a perfect view of your huge cock as it plied me. Then we switched positions and I sat in your lap, feeling you settle into the couch cushions as my wet thighs wrapped around you. My breasts were high and hard as I pushed them at you, watching as you sucked them both in turn. I rode you hard that way, tighter with my legs together, each thrust against you feeling like your incredible erection might split me open from the inside.

You took me once from behind, and I twisted my head underneath me to watch you slide in that way. Despite all the action my clit had already endured, I found my hand working its way down between my legs, even as the shivering sensation of your finger in my ass swelled through me once more. I came twice that way, then came again with your finger still in my tight hole as I straddled you on the floor, ramming myself hard and fast onto your incredible cock.

I lost track of the time so quickly. Your staying power, your ability to bring me to the edge of orgasm and hold me there were an absolute marvel to me. So it was that when you finally came, I had no warning except your sudden cry, almost like you were in pain. You had me on the floor and were riding me from on top, the muscles standing out on your arms and shoulders. Then you were thrusting into me harder than you had all night, your body arched back as a scream of absolute pleasure escaped you.

You tried to pull out at some point like you wanted to shoot over me, but I wouldn’t let you. I held onto you tight, my legs wrapped around you and locked at the ankles, my hands grabbing your ass. Only when you finally slowed did I let you carefully pull away from me, the look on your face speaking to how sore your cock was as you disengaged.

I was sore as well, and soaking wet where your incredible load of cum began to seep out of me. With shaking hands, I found the towel that had started everything, still on the couch. I held it to myself as I let your semen spill from me, locked in your arms on the floor and feeling the beating of your heart where I lay against your chest.