I opened my lips wide, inviting him in.
His tongue met mine… slowly… gently… taking his time. He alternated between using just his lips, then slowly caressing my tongue with his, the most arousing kiss I’d ever had in my life.
His hand around my waist slowly dropped down to my rear end and cupped my cheek, feeling my curves, then pressed me against his hips.
Oh.
My.
GOD.
I couldn’t see anything – my eyes were closed and I was completely lost in the kiss – but there was this very long, very thick, very hard pressure between me and him. He was fully aroused – he had to have been.
Before I slept with them, I had felt several boyfriends’ erections through their pants during makeout sessions – but I had never felt something like that before.
Nothing that massive.
I had to touch it.
I was dying to touch it.
I had to feel it in my hand.
I let my fingers drift down below his belt and grazed my hand along the cloth.
No matter how wet I was before, a couple of seconds later I was drenched.
I was not what you would call experienced. One boyfriend in high school, two in college, and a guy I had dated three months before I left for Los Angeles. All nice guys. All a bit taller than me, all fairly cute, all of average build, and every one of them pretty much the same ‘down there.’ Sex had ranged from fair to good, and I had just assumed that size didn’t matter much. Except for the actors I saw in porn clips (usually viewed with my fingers over my eyes as my second college boyfriend laughed at me and tried to get me to watch), I figured 99% of the male population was built a certain way, and I probably wasn’t ever going to run into the 1%.
I had apparently just run into it.
As my fingers traced the amazing length and cupped the substantial girth of the shape in his pants, I let out another moan.
I was sooooo turned on it wasn’t funny.
I didn’t even know why. Porn clips definitely didn’t do it for me. Guys in those videos made me go ewww instead of aaahhh.
I guess it was that I was so wildly turned on by him anyway, that the size of him… it sparked something deep inside of me. I felt so feminine as I held him, overwhelmed by the sheer masculinity of him.
Then his hand closed around mine and forced me to grip that thick, hard shape even tighter.
He pulled his mouth away from mine and moved his lips to my ear.
“You feel that?” he growled – so low it was a whisper, the tickle of air on my skin exciting me even more.
I nodded silently, because I couldn’t speak. I didn’t trust myself – I was afraid if I tried to answer, I might start moaning again. Continuously and loudly.
“YOU do that to me,” he breathed. “YOU make me hard like that.”
Yeah… I was right. I moaned again. I couldn’t help myself.
His lips traced the edges of my ears. I was whimpering now, unable to think.
His hand on my ass caressed its way up my spine and lightly gripped my hair. Slowly, gently, he pulled my head back so that my neck was completely exposed – and he began to kiss and lick me. Not wet, just the lightest touch of his tongue as it traced its way across my skin, down my throat, all the way to my collarbones, then back up the other side.
I had to lean myself against the table, my legs were so weak.
Taking that for some sort of a sign, he used both of his hands to grab my ass and lift me up so that I was sitting on the table. Good Lord, he was strong – I felt like a doll in his hands as he just picked me up and moved me at his whim.
My hand lost contact with the bulge in his pants, but I didn’t have time to think about that. As he returned to kissing me on the mouth, his fingers started brushing the curves of my breasts through my blouse.
He would start on the outside edges near my arm and slowly spiral in with the lightest touch, then brush the backsides of his fingers over my nipples. Normally they don’t get that hard unless I’m really turned on; at the moment, I felt like they could probably cut diamonds. He kept playing with my breasts, alternating kissing me on the lips and nuzzling my ear, until I was quivering and moaning.
Then he stepped back and stared into my eyes as he undid the buttons on my blouse. Then he pulled it off my shoulders and arms until I was sitting there in my bra.
It’s funny what goes through your mind, but one single thought emerged from the overwhelming wave of desire coursing through my body:
Thank God I wore a lacy, pretty bra this morning.
And matching panties.
Of course, the bra didn’t stay on for long.
Neither did the panties.
He leaned in for a kiss, and his arms encircled me. As his lips and tongue met mine, I felt his expert fingers unsnap the bra from the back, and the straps relaxed.