“This is good,” he assured her, although the voice was strained. His cheeks were flushed red now. Then his eyes opened, dark and wild and hungry with desire. More so when he realized she was watching him.
What could she do? How could she make him feel like he’d made her? It was almost like a test, one Mara was determined not to fail.
“Now, Jay,” she said, making a decision. She reached out and experimentally flicked her hand over where his choco chips peeked out from under his sleeveless sando. Jay jerked, and she smiled. “What happened to communication?”
“Mmph,” was his only response. Mara liked that she was making him squirm again. She held out a hand and waited for him to nod, send a smoke signal, dosomething.“Please.”
She undid the drawstring on his beach shorts. Jay groaned when she peeled back his shorts, unearthing his hand and his cock under the layers of cotton and…whatever guys’ beach shorts were made of.
Mara’s eyes gasped and took it all in—the movement of his hand, the grip, the cock itself. It was longer than she expected, a little thicker. His balls contracted as he fondled them. Poor baby was doing a lot of the work.
Mara put her hand under his and copied his motions until he let her take over. They were slightly cool, and strange, but Jay seemed to like it. The tip of his cock was wet, and with her free hand, she circled her finger around the tip in the same way she liked to touch her clit. The sound Jay made would follow her to her dreams, to the next time she touched herself and pictured this.
Her hand accidentally squeezed his balls at the thought, and Jay came with a shout. Beads of hot, white liquid shot out of his cock, over his hand and a little on her. Jay sat up almost immediately, looking every bit as debauched as she felt, both looking at each other like it was the first time anyone had ever come.
“Sorry,” Jay said in between gasping, heaving breaths, brushing his hand on his shorts before he wiped off the rest of the cum that splashed on her legs. Then he collapsed back on to the bed. “Are you okay? That was—”
“Jay,” Mara said, waiting patiently.
“Do you need anything?” he asked. He looked like he really, really wanted to get up but couldn’t because he was too tired. “Sorry, I just need to catch my breath. Mara, that was hot. That was really, really hot.”
She wasn’t going to disagree. But seriously. He wasn’t going to…?
“Jay.” His eyes were already drooping shut. “Jaysohn!”
“What?” he asked, opening one eye. And maybe he was glaring, but it made Mara laugh. She grabbed a pillow and smacked it lightly on his face.
“Wash your hands,” she told him, lying back on the bed and rolling on to her stomach so she could plant a long, lingering kiss on his lips. “You dirty boy.”
His mouth hung open, and he looked like he’d been frozen. Mara laughed at his shocked, slightly dazed expression and pushed at his arm to get him to go to the bathroom. Jay closed the door behind him, and Mara sunk her face into her pillow, suppressing her giggles and kicking feet.
If this was lesson one, she had a feeling she was going to come out of this class with a perfect uno.
* * *
“How long did you say you were going to be in Boracay?” Jay asked, as he emerged from the bathroom with clean hands.
“I’m here until Monday, so four days,” Mara said a little loud, on her back and looking at the ceiling.
She felt…good. Really good, and still wholly herself, which she was grateful for. She knew that masturbating someone else (was that the correct term?) wasn’t penetrative sex, but it was intimacy, and it was good to know that she liked it.
Enough to do it again? To do more?
“Then why do you only have two bathing suits?” Jay came out of the bathroom with an incredulous look on his face.
“Judger,” Mara teased, sticking her tongue out at him. “How long are you here for?”
“I fly back Sunday afternoon,” he said, pouting as he joined her on the bed, their shoulders and thighs touching. He held a hand out to hers and squeezed it. Mara recognized the satisfied smile on his face. It was the same as the one on hers. “And I brought four beach shorts.”
“Oh my god.” Mara laughed. “I should have known. You’re a—”
“Say it. Say it!”
“An over packer,” Mara gasped, and they both laughed. The same stupid laughs you release when you and your friends just don’t want the night to be over, but you’re all too tired to do much of anything else.
But was Jay a friend? Because Mara didn’t let her other friends make her come the way he had. She never let them see this part of her, the part that wanted pleasure and liked the idea of sex. Was that what made Jay different?
“I’m glad we rode the same boat to Bora,” Jay told her, his gaze fond and sentimental, and Mara had a brief vision of many, many more nights like this. Nights in a home that they made together, where they could go to sleep at night together, and wake up still knowing who the other person was on the other side of the bed, knowing that they loved you just as much as you loved them.
