pink nipples to spur me on. “This okay?” I kiss the swell of one breast over the demi-cup of her bra.
“Yes.” It’s more of a breathy sigh than a word, but it was a yes, so it totally counts.
“What about this?” I slip my tongue past the bra to taste her areola.
“Yes!” That was a borderline shout. Her eyes open, and her head jerks off the sofa. I lay my palm flat on her chest and push her down. “Don’t even think of stopping me,” I warn. “Not when you’re enjoying yourself.”
I wonder if this will take long at all. Let’s find out.
Reaching behind her back, I unhook her bra. Then I sit back and bring her forward. “Shirt off okay?”
She nods, a little dazed, a lot beautiful. I try not to gloat as I take her shirt and bra off and set them on the low table next to the couch. She’s in such good hands. She has no idea what she’s in for, but I do. She crosses her arms over her chest and lies back, watching me with curiosity and something else I can’t name. Anticipation, I think. But I have to ask. No way do I want her regretting anything. She’s either all in or this is all over.
“What’s wrong?” I touch the cleavage she’s giving herself by pushing her breasts together, dragging my finger along the soft swells of each breast.
“What if—” She cuts herself off to smile, teeth and all. “What if I…can’t? I’ve never let anyone other than myself touch me down there.”
Rather than argue she most definitely can, I say, “Behind performance anxiety is usually worry you’ll let the other person down. You can’t possibly let me down. You have nothing to lose. I’ll do my thing. You relax. If I don’t hit the right buttons or ring the right bells, you can call it quits, or you can instruct me and I’ll keep trying until I succeed.”
She shakes her head, but it’s not so much a “no” as it is expressing wonder and surprise. “Why are you doing this?”
“With great power comes great responsibility. Just so happens I have a lot of power in this realm. Are you going to let me prove it to you or not?” I reach for her crossed arms. She lets me pull them away from her body to reveal two of the most beautiful breasts I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Oh, Cris. You’re gorgeous, honey.”
She blushes. It’s amazing.
I lower my head, place her hands in my hair, then I stroke my tongue over one of her nipples. I go slow, licking, suckling, laving. She tastes incredible. She can’t hold still, her hips wriggling beneath me. Her whimpers of ecstasy let me know I’m on the right track. I continue kissing her while moving one hand to the button of her jeans. By the time her zipper is down, her hips lift.
She’s ready.
Sliding my hand past the barrier of her jeans, I find matching silky green panties. I stroke my finger over the fabric panel. She’s wet. Ready. But to be sure, I ask. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
It’s the sincerest one I’ve heard yet. Slipping past the silken fabric, I touch her bare pussy and feel my cock grow heavy. The hardest part (no pun intended) is going to be remembering not to take this further. This isn’t about me. She is looking for an orgasm. She didn’t ask to lose her virginity to me. Although, I don’t see why I couldn’t help her out in that area as well. One thing at a time.
Focus, Benji.
Stroking her damp folds, I move up her body and kiss her mouth. Against those soft lips I instruct, “Spread.”
Her legs fall open like I command, and damn, is that heady. I deepen my touch as her tongue explores my mouth with vigor. Her hips lift and drop in a rhythm she’s setting. I’m just keeping time.
When she’s close, she pulls her mouth from mine to suck in a few quickened breaths. Her brows dive inward, her eyes shut. She licks her lips. Her hands are clutching the couch cushion beneath her. I insert one finger incredibly gently, and for a moment she goes rigid before she relaxes into it. I press her clit with my thumb and, knowing she’s close, dip my head to take a nipple on my tongue to send her over.
She comes on contact.
Her cry is hoarse, desperate, satiated. I continue stroking until I feel warmth on my fingers. Her entire