About Last Night

What did I want to know? Hell, what didn’t I want to know? I wanted it all, everything. Her entire sexual history.

Obviously, I had to be smart about this. I didn’t want to scare her away. “I know you’ve only dated two men. Why don’t you tell me about it?”

A choked noise escaped her. “I’d rather not. There wasn’t anything remarkable about those men, or the experiences they so kindly took part in.”

She was getting defensive. I needed to soothe her beast, stroke it. My voice turned gravelly as I asked, “Did either of them do something you didn’t like? Did they touch you in a way you felt uncomfortable? “ Because if they did, I would find them and fuck them up.

She sighed lightly. “No, Quinn. It was nothing like that.” Then she paused, “Well, actually…”

Her hesitance was met by my, “Go on, Maya.”

“Well, the first guy was pretty rough with me. Not in a rape sort of way, but I think he just liked it like that. He was very dominant and bossy. Every touch on my body was harsh. When he put his fingers i- in—” She stumbled then added quietly, “You know where, it was rough and I wasn’t ready for it. Either he didn’t know or he didn’t care, but he persisted. It didn’t feel good. He’d squeeze my boobs hard then pinch my nipples. I didn’t get any enjoyment out of it. But I tried one more time with another guy.”

“The guy who used oral sex as a lullaby,” I confirmed.

Her husky laugh washed over me, bringing a smile to my face. “Yeah, he was sweet, but he had a feather touch. I barely felt a thing, and he was always looking for confirmation. It was a big turn off. I didn’t think sex needed instruction every minute or so. It was weird. And that’s it. I never saw either of them again.”

I didn’t think that was it. I wanted more. So I asked, “Okay, good. That’s that from your experience, but what about them? What had you done with them, with their bodies, and did you like it?”

Her groan sounded muffled, as if she’d stuck her head in a pillow. “Do we have to talk about this?”

I clucked my tongue. “Maya, Maya, Maya…relax. This is nothing. Just talk. You’re doing great, so keep it going.”

She blew out a long breath. “You’re right; I’m being silly. Um. Okay. The first guy, I-uh…touched him. Well, he grabbed my hand and put it on his…uh…penis…then kept his hand over mine as a guide. He liked it rough and hard, to the point I thought I was hurting him, but he came, so I guess it didn’t. And the second guy asked me to touch him, so I did. He felt harder than the first guy, but I couldn’t see, because both times, we’d been in the dark. I’ve never seen one up close or in the light. Well, not in real life. Anyways, the second guy took longer to come, but I could see his face in the moonlight, and the face he made when he came…” She lowered her voice in embarrassment. “…well, I liked how he looked then. It made me feel sexy, powerful.”

My lips tilted to the side in a small smile. “Good. I’m glad. You know that feeling you got? Well, guys get it too, but women are a little harder to please, so when a guy can’t do that, he can: a, get angry or upset, or b, overcompensate. It sounds like you happened to share these experiences with guys from either ends of the spectrum, so on behalf of men everywhere, sorry about that.”

Inserting humor into the situation seemed to work at calming Maya, because she chuckled, “Apology accepted. What else do you want to know?”

My next question would likely lead to her hanging up on me, but still, I enquired as naturally as possible, “Do you touch yourself? And if so, how often?”

She gasped, “Quinn!”

I shrugged. “What? It’s not a big deal. It’s natural. God, you know what I do for a living, and I still masturbate about four times a week. And before you say something, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s an amazing form of stress relief.” I figured sharing my own sexual appetite would push her to reveal hers.

She sounded amazed. “Four times a week? You do that four times a week?”

“I like sex, Maya.” I may have sounded a little defensive there.

Her quick but sincere adding of, “I’m not judging you, Quinn,” soothed the minor burn. “It’s just that I’ve never spoken to someone like this before, and I guess I’m a little curious about male habits as much as I am about everything else.”

She was opening up. I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of pride at the way I was handling this. “Ask me anything. I’ll always be honest with you. Ask me something. What are you most curious about?”

Silence. She remained silent for a whole ten seconds before blurting out, “Everything! I’m curious about everything. Jesus, Quinn, I’m twenty-seven and know the basics of sex, the mechanics, but nothing else. I don’t know how it feels for a man. I don’t know why they like women to go down on them. I don’t know how soon you can have sex after you’ve come. I don’t know anything!”

My cock had gone from a semi to a full-blown hard-on at her little frustrated speech. I looked down at it and it jerked as if to say, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Touch me!’

I ignored my cock and answered her. “I’m assuming it feels for a man the way it feels for a woman. Like light and sound meeting in a clashing explosion of warmth, frustration, and need. My body temp gets hot during sex. I normally sweat, not just from exertion, but also from demand. And I love the taste of sweat on a woman’s skin during sex. It means she’s working just as hard to take me there as I am her. It tastes like success.” I finished my explanation, shook my head, and uttered, “That wasn’t a very good explanation. Sorr—”

But she cut me off with a hushed, “That was perfect. I can almost see it. Taste it. I-uh…I think I understand now.”

My brows raised in surprised. She sounded as if she were turned on. “As for what it feels like when you have a woman’s lips wrapped around your cock…” I choked down a groan. “…it’s amazing. It’s wet and warm, and the sounds coming from the friction of skin-on-skin is just…” I paused then chuckled. “Well, I like it.”

Maya didn’t sound convinced. “Sounds messy.”

I didn’t bother lying. “Sex usually is. But you can always clean up afterwards.” Then I added, “I promise you, Maya, the best sex is always dirty and messy and shocking. That’s the kind of sex that stems from passion. It’s incredible.”

I heard her swallow before she breathed out, “I’ll take your word for it.”

Pre-cum had beaded at the head of my cock. I could see the damp outline on my boxers. I had no idea what possessed me, but I felt my skin was crawling, so I asked a rough, “Would it shock you to know that talking about this is turning me on? That I’m harder than a fucking rock right now?”

Her whisper sounded like a plea. “Quinn…”

I wanted to push her buttons, see how far she would let me go. “What if I put my hand on my cock right now and jerked myself off to the sound of your voice? Would that turn you on, Maya?”

No response, only heavy breathing.

I reached for my cock and gripped it, whispering, “Are you wet, Maya?”

Her shaky response was immediate, and it came out small and restless. “Yes.”

Oh, God, I needed to come. “Tell me, Maya…do you touch yourself?”

“No.” She started to sound desperate. “I don’t know how.”

Wait, what?

I sat up to ask my next question. “Have you ever had an orgasm?”

Uncertainty lined her voice. “I-I think so.”

Biting the inside of my cheek

to stop myself from groaning, I told her, “If you’re not certain, trust me on this: you haven’t.”

“Oh. Then, no, I guess not.”

No hesitation. “Do you want me to talk you through it?”

“Quinn, I don’t thin— I…no, thank you.”

“Don’t be embarrassed with me. You do remember how we met, right? We’re going to meet on Sunday, Maya.” I paused to let this digest. “We’re going to meet and have sex. I’d consider this a beginning to our lesson.” I sensed her reluctance, so I added sly-like, “Or if you prefer to do it face-to-face…”

Maya huffed. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“I’m here, and I don’t think there’s a man out there who knows the female anatomy as well as I do. I’ll talk you through it step-by-step. But if you do this, you have to promise me something.”

“What?” she asked softly.

“You can’t fake it.” I went on, “Sex is about communication, Maya. If something isn’t working for you, don’t be afraid to say it. Don’t feel like you have to lie to make the other person feel better. It has to work for you.” I waited for a reply, but didn’t get one. “We don’t have to do this. I’ll leave it up to you. Don’t do it because I asked you to. I only want you to do this if you’re certain.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

I stilled. “Okay, yes? Or…”

Amusement lined her voice. “Okay, yes. What do I do first?”

I hadn’t been expecting her to agree. I’d fully been prepared for refusal. I was not prepared for acceptance. I was only playing with her. I cleared my throat then thought about it. “I think you should lie down, and if you’re wearing panties, take them off.”

A few seconds of rustling, then, “Done. Now what?”

“Are your nipples sensitive?”

She paused. “How do I know if they are?”