“I didn’t when—” I stumble over my words.
“You were a virgin.”
“I still am.”
He puts his phone away. “You’re not a blow job virgin anymore. Do you want to go to my bedroom? I’ve put clean sheets on the bed.”
“How romantic.”
“I am the king of romance.”
He takes my hand and leads me upstairs into the bedroom above the lounge. The bay window makes it feel bigger, even though an entire wall of fitted wardrobes reduces the floor space. A king-sized bed takes up a lot of room. The sheets might be clean, but the bed hasn’t been made. Clothes hang over a chair, and the laundry basket in the corner is overflowing.
“Yeah, this room isn’t as neat as downstairs. I’ve banned the cleaner from coming in here. I do run the Hoover over the floor. I even dust.”
“Downstairs is nice, but this room feels more like you.”
“A hot mess?”
“I was going to say cosy and disorganised.”
“I’m cosy, am I?”
“Yes.”
“Cosy. I like it.”
He closes the curtains. They’re cream and not thick, so although no one can see in or out, they still let light into the room. He holds me and kisses me, which helps to chase away the butterflies that are having a party in my stomach.
“Do you still want me to teach you how to suck dick?”
I undo his jeans. “Yes. You make me feel so good when you suck mine. I want to be able to make you feel the same way.”
He dips his tongue into my mouth as he kisses me. “I’d like that, but take it slow your first few times. Don’t stuff your mouth full of cock, or you might gag.”
“Right. Slow.”
He turns us around. “Sit down.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, which puts my face level with his groin. He slides his jeans and pants around his thighs and steps close so his limp cock is a few centimetres in front of my face. I’ve jacked him off several times, but I still stare at it as if it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. I lick my lips. He told me to go slow, but I have an urge to stretch my lips around his length and take him deep. That’s a good sign, right?
He strokes himself until his cock is hard, making it an even more beautiful sight. It also reminds my stomach butterflies to stop napping and start partying again.
“You don’t have to,” he says, which means my nerves are showing on my face.
“I want to, but I don’t know what to do.” I cover my face with my hands, knocking my glasses askew. “I mean, I know roughly what to do. I’ve watched porn and paid attention when you’ve gone down on me. But it’s not like a handjob. It’s not something I can practise on myself.”
I lower my hands in time to see Auggie smirk.
“Actually, I did hook up with a guy who could… never mind.”
My jaw hits the floor.
“He was very flexible. He was a gymnast or a dancer. Something like that. I can’t remember. Anyway, it was his party trick, and it was pretty hot watching him suck himself off.”
“He did it at parties?”
Auggie laughs. “No! I meant he did it to show off.”
