Chapter 16

I followed her up the front stairs, watching her butt wiggle under the robe. I was remembering the first time we’d made love, while she was house-sitting for her aunt and uncle, taking care of their two hyperactive toy dogs.

She’d come to the decision to lose her virginity on her own, with no pressure from me. And it nearly took my breath away when she had shyly asked me to help her do it. She wasn’t sure that she was really interested in sex, but she thought she needed to experience it so that the curiosity about it would no longer be a distraction to her focus on school.

She told me later that the joy of it had taken her totally by surprise, that she hadn’t thought that it could be so wonderful, that it could make her exult so completely.

She’d been shy at first, not feeling quite comfortable with me, not sure what she should allow, surprised that certain things felt so good when she had thought that they wouldn’t.

But it hadn’t taken her long to throw herself into it, to respond to new things, the same way she’d first been a bit nervous about the dildo and then accepted the new idea. I’d been a little hesitant about suggesting certain things then, but I’d found that she was open-minded. She’d try something to see if she liked it, even if it sounded a little frightening.

Like anal sex. I’d been afraid to raise the possibility, but her ass was so spectacular that it wasn’t long till the subject came up. She been slightly afraid of the idea, but she said because I wanted to try it, she’d let me to see if she didn’t hate it. And she told me afterwards that it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it might be. In fact, she’d actually gotten off when I came in her ass, which surprised her.

I failed to mention that it was me, linkcasting her an orgasm directive, that had gotten her off so powerfully, but she thought it was her and thus signed on to anal right there and then.

She was open-minded about lots of things, trying them on just like she did ideas, to see how they felt. She discarded the things that didn’t work for her. I envied that she was so self-analytical, because I wasn’t. I found it hard to change things I was comfortable with, to try new things. Maybe that’s why the two of us were such a good fit -- we balanced each other.

A speculation for another time, because when we reached her room she had turned and put her arms around me.

“This would be a lot easier if you didn’t have clothes on,” she told me.

“A quick fix. Give me a moment.”

I wasn’t wearing shoes, so everything else disappeared quickly. I hadn’t sent myself a stiffy trigger because I already had half a stiffy from thinking about her naked again. But I did remember to send myself a Cum Block. That’s my Boy Scout training: Be prepared.

She wore that enigmatic half-smile that always made me wonder what she was thinking. I knew what I was thinking. I reached out one hand and tugged at the belt of her robe. The knot fell apart and the robe drooped open. She shrugged it off her shoulders.

It always made me catch my breath. It mattered not how many times I saw her naked, it still hit me like a fist each time. I wrapped my arms around her and felt hers curl around my waist and lock behind me. I let myself get lost in the touch and the smell of her.

After a minute we moved onto the bed and found comfortable positions lying next to each other.

“Maybe I should’ve showered,” she said. “I might be a little sweaty.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re going to be sweaty again shortly.” She blushed. I don’t know why she was always a little self-conscious about her body. I’d told her scores of times how beautiful she was, and she’d been the target of advances from almost every guy she’d met all through high school. She couldn’t still have self-doubt, not after that.

“But now that you mention it,” I continued, “that’s something we’ve never done, shower together. That might be fun. You never know where that might lead.”

“Um, yeah, that’d be new. I don’t know why I suddenly feel so awkward about it. Maybe because it’s something I’ve always done alone.”

“I think we’ve had this discussion before. First times for everything are usually a bit awkward. Then they become more normal. Anyway, a problem for later.”

When we first started being “a couple” it took me a long time to get over the sense of awe I felt when we finally got naked. It was hard then for me to reconcile the person that I connected with emotionally and intellectually with the gorgeous woman whose body was so perfect that I was almost afraid to touch her.

That had changed -- I don’t know when that had changed, it happened as so gradually -- and now I felt completely comfortable lying next to her. She was still drop-dead beautiful, but now I breathed in her scent and the texture of her skin and it felt perfectly natural.

Yet I was still finding tiny little things about her that surprised me because I hadn’t noticed them before, trivial things like a slight discoloration of her skin that you could only see close up, or a little bump just above her elbow that you could only detect by brushing your fingertips over it. And having noticed them, they now became part of what I would remember about her.

I was learning to recognize certain parts of her that were sensitive, to which she responded when I stroked them. I was doing that now and I could feel her relaxing, her breathing falling into an even rhythm.

There was that weird sensation like I was in her epicenter, but I wasn’t. I was sensing an emotion, one of calm and peace, of happiness. I knew it was hers because, after all, there were only two of us here and I was pretty sure I wasn’t sensing me!

Her eyes were closed, just enjoying my touch, and I watched her. Occasionally I’d lean in and give a kiss to a certain place, or lick another. I’d hear a little response, almost sub-vocalized, as it washed over her.

It didn’t take long before I was running my tongue lightly just below her navel. She wasn’t a naif, she knew what wasn’t far away. Her breathing changed, got quicker, and when I finally moved low enough that my lips brushed over her clitoral hood, she gave a long, low moan.

I loved hearing these responses from her, because I loved making her feel good. I’d half-promised myself that this time I wouldn’t fall back on my hackneyed sensory images to make her cum because I’d found that her own orgasms were better than the ones I sent her. That was a hard dose of reality, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Lots of women were able to create memorable orgasms.

There were also a lot who couldn’t, and that’s where my little tricks could light up their world. But I loved watching Karen soar over the top. She was really good at it and I was happy to help her get there. What I could do was help her feel good between those releases.

I linkcast her the one I called Rowboat, which gave her a heightened state of pleasure, a feeling that you are floating in a boat without oars on a warm sea of contentment and bliss. And right after I did it, I felt it. It would be hard to describe the feeling based on the sensations I was receiving, but I almost recognized it, the sense of contentment.

I let my tongue circle her clit without touching it, and I could feel her tensing. After a few minutes I could feel her tugging at my head, urging me to push in harder. I was delaying, because I could sense that she wasn’t at the right stage yet -- and again, it wasn’t me rummaging around in her head looking for that odd “pleasure meter” so I could see where she was in the process, just me sensing her emotions.

So I kept my tongue moving slowly around the perimeter, until I could feel her fingers pressing into my scalp like a cat kneading the bedsheets with its claws. That’s when I sensed the time was right. I moved my tongue to the center of her clit and flicked it back and forth, very lightly with almost no pressure.

The sound began way off in the distance, getting closer and louder, a thin whine that rose in volume, and when it broke I pummeled her clit with my tongue while she pounded her fists on my back until she grabbed my shoulders and pushed me off. “No more, please, I can’t ... It’s too...”

She closed her eyes and I knew she had shut off for a few minutes while she floated back down. I didn’t need to look in her head, her face said everything that needed to be said. She was calm, peaceful, exactly where she wanted to be.

I had spent the last couple of years convincing myself that soon, any day now, she was going to find a new guy who was better, smarter, more attentive, more attractive than me. It was paranoia and I recognized it and knew it was unreasonable, but it still hovered over me, poked its head up every now and then.

When it did, I always took out my wallet and looked at the picture her friend had taken of the two of us at her New Year’s Eve party last winter. The way that she looked up at me, I knew she loved me. And I had to smile at the look on my face, someone who couldn’t believe his good fortune, to have someone look at him like that.

Somewhere down deep I suspected there was some nagging little demon inside me whispering, ‘She’s too good for you, you don’t deserve her.’

Maybe I should see a shrink. They might be able to exorcise that particular demon. But the thought got pushed aside when she started to move again.

She stretched. “That’s what I need after a night of prepping for exams. How come you’re never around when I need you?”

“So how do you think that would work anyway? You hand out earplugs to your roommates and instruct them to look only at their books while I’m getting you off? Pretend that you’re not shouting when you cum?”

“Details. We’d figure something out.”

“You were fun to watch this time. I like seeing that roll over you.”

She wormed both arms around me and snuggled. “You always know just what to do,” she said.

“It makes me really happy to know I can do that for you.”

“You’re a good soul, Carter. I sometimes wish we were at schools that were closer together. But I also know that you’d be a distraction when I need to focus on classes.”

“Same here. We’d be able to see each other more often and we could flunk out together.”

“We may need to refine that plan.”

“For now I’m happy that we can spend twenty four consecutive hours together and not feel like we’re rushed.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it? The closest we’ve come to that was that night we spent at my uncle’s while I was dog-sitting.”

“That was fun. For a while it felt like we were in our own house, and it felt comfortable and right somehow.”

“Well, we’ll have to take it as we can. These opportunities probably won’t come up often. So we shouldn’t waste the time we have. What would you like, Carter?”

“I would like not to be rushed. I would like to take things slow so I can spend as much time next to you as I can. That’s what I’d like.”

“You don’t want to get off?”

“Of course I do. We talked about this once, I’m sure. Men have an orgasm and we’re done for some undetermined period of time, between twenty minutes and two hours, before we can get it up again. Well, most of us, anyway.

“But I get such a rush watching you cum, it’s so beautiful, and I feel proud that I helped you get there. It’s not as good as cumming myself, but almost. So I can share yours because you can have several, then finally get to cum myself.”

She paused, thinking. “Yeah, I remember you telling me that. I have to say, none of my girlfriends at school have ever said, even once, that their boyfriends do that. If they’re well-trained they’ll make sure she gets off once before they stick their dick in and shoot their wad. Most of the time they don’t even wait for her to cum first. So you’re just a little weird, Carter.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Hell, no, I’m not complaining. I wish there were more like you so I wouldn’t have to listen to my friends whine about it.”

We rambled back and forth while touching one another, just enjoying being close again. As in the usual course of things, the touches became more sensual and erotic over time. I could watch it happen in the way that she responded to them, closing her eyes and reveling in what she was feeling. I suddenly wondered if that was the way she played with herself when she was trying to make herself cum.

“I know what I want. I want to see how you play with the dildo.”

Her eyes shot open and she looked suddenly fearful, embarrassed. “What? Why? I don’t understand, why do you want to see that?”

“Because I want to see how you bring yourself to the edge. How is it different from what I do to you?”

She was averting her eyes now, like this was an uncomfortable conversation. “I don’t know how I feel about that, Carter. That seems really different from what we do together.”

“It’s just a different way to share pleasure with each other. I think it would be really quite beautiful to watch you do that.”

“I don’t know why I feel so embarrassed about this. Maybe it’s because it’s something I do alone.”

I thought about that for a minute. “I guess I can see that. It might be a big step. Still, we’ve done all kinds of things together. Is this really that different?”

“It feels like it to me.”

“I won’t press the issue. I just thought it’d be really hot to watch you get yourself off.”

She looked relieved. But I wasn’t just saying that. It would be hot to see her get off with the dildo.

“Would you let me do that to you? Use the dildo on you?”

She looked at me, working the details out in her mind, trying to think how she’d feel.

She finally said, “I don’t know how I’d react to that. I can’t project how I might respond to it. I’ve liked it when I’ve used it on myself, but I feel self-conscious doing it in front of someone. If I’m doing it, I mean. But you’ve always been very gentle and caring with me. I’m not sure how I’ll react, but I’m willing to try it.”

“Okay. If it gets to a point where it feels weird, just say so and I’ll stop. Would you get it, or should I?

She pushed herself off the bed and went to her dresser, opened a drawer, and rummaged under a stack of sweaters. She came back with the dildo and a small bottle of lube. The dildo looked less shiny and new.

I picked it up. I’d never even taken it out of the box, just looked at the pictures on the side. She was right, it did seem sort of industrial, with several buttons. There were symbols next to each button, but they made no sense to me.

“The larger one’s the power button,” she informed me.

“Thanks. I’ll experiment a bit.”