“I haven’t...” I try to speak but I can’t. I’m still out of breath and totally spaced out from such an overwhelming orgasm. “It’s been a long time since I did that. I didn’t know I still could.”
“I feel like I have a new life purpose. To make you do that again, and again, and again.” He kisses my knee. Then he pulls my leg straight up against his chest, finds my gold anklet and kisses that too.
I go back to being a wordless lump of flesh as I let myself consider his words.
“Jesus, Jenna. Look at you,” he says. I lift my head and look at my pussy still rocking against his hand, my nipples hard and hungry, my leg on his chest and body completely open to him. “You’re a brilliant, beautiful mess for me.”
And he’s right, so very right.
Then I see him rising above me, his towel gone and his cock long and hard and pointing to the sky.
“Still want me?” he asks.
“Always,” I reply.
He nods his head in a way that I know means I need to move further up the bed. After shuffling back, I open my legs again and he lies himself down between them.
Marty has one hand near my head, holding his body up, and the other is guiding himself towards me.
“So wet,” he says as his head touches me.
“So soft,” he says as his crown fills my opening.
“So warm,” he whispers as his mouth comes close to my ear, his chest pressing down on mine, and his cock drives up and in.
“Yes,” I hiss and feel new bubbles of pleasure burst inside me.
“This feels better than how I imagined,” he pants out as he thrusts into me again, long and slow. “And I imagined it would feel like heaven.”
So very suddenly my lust is muted with the bone-deep urge to cry, and I give into it immediately. I give in to all the things I’ve tried to put off thinking and feeling today, and maybe over the last few days too.
How unfair it is that we are not closer in age. How hard it feels that we live in different countries. How difficult it will be when he is there, and I am somewhere else. How wrong it will feel to say goodbye to him tomorrow. How insurmountable all these obstacles feel right now. And by consequence, how bleak the future looks no matter what we promise each other today, because we won’t be together on an island in the sun anymore.
The only good thing about crying right now is that it keeps my next orgasm a little further away, so I can focus on the way his body rides up above me, every single one of his muscles flexing tight. How his eyes are firmly closed, and his top teeth are clamping down on his bottom lip. How there’s an almost strained expression hardening his jaw and making his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows every few thrusts, thrusts that are now speeding up.
But then his eyes flicker open and he sees my tears and whatever pained expression I have on my face.
“Shit.” He stills, his pupils darting left and right. “I’m sorry. Is it too hard? Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head profusely. “No.” I sigh and lift my hands to stroke his cheeks, his stubble now rough against my fingers. “I’m just sad about tomorrow. I’ve been trying so hard not to be, but I am. I can’t help it.”
I feel the breath of his exhale on my nose and mouth.
“I know,” he says. “I’m sad too.”
“But don’t stop,” I say, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Please don’t stop.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “I may not come, because I’m not great at separating my emotions from my orgasms, but I am still enjoying every second. I want this. I want you.”
I’m not sure if it’s because of my tears, or because he wants to be gentler on me, but he lowers his body again so it’s flat against mine and he starts to rock into me rather than thrust. He lies his forearms flat on either side of my head and he dips his head to kiss me, a slow, unhurried kiss that has more fragility than hunger and is more calming than craving. It’s what I didn’t realise I needed. A reminder that we still have time, albeit not as much as I would like. A prompt for me to hold space for feeling sad but to also make plenty of room for also feeling so very happy at the same time. An invitation to enjoy loving him as much as I cherish feeling loved by him. A reminder that while this will all stop tomorrow, at least we had it. At least we found each other for these blissful five days.
Feeling soothed, if not resolved, there is space again for my desire to burn bright. When he moves his mouth away to kiss my cheeks, my eyebrows, and at my temples, I grip his butt cheeks with my hands and push him into me deeper, applying a little extra pressure on my clit. Responding to my grip and the way I roll my hips up towards him, he makes his strokes longer, harder.
I swallow a moan at how good it feels.
“I lied,” I whisper.
