Only I never wanted him to stop sucking on my nipple.
Eventually, he pulled away. With a firm hand in the center of my chest he urged me onto the bed. I sat at first, but then he pushed me down on to my back. His hands went to my panties and he pulled them down my legs until I was laid out, completely naked before him while he stood over me looking down at me.
He made a sound in the back of his throat I didn’t recognize. Something like a satisfied growl.
Given he was still in his jeans and thermal, it seemed entirely unfair.
“You,” I said, not entirely able to form complete thoughts.
He knew what I meant. He shucked out of his shirt first, then reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a strip of condoms he tossed on the bed. Distracted, I turned to them and thought how surreal all this was.
E.G. wanted to have sex with me. Heplannedto have sex with me. He’d bought condoms despite not having sex for years. Had he known it, too? That this had always been inevitable?
When had he bought the condoms?
A rustling sound captured my attention and once again I was looking at him. Only this time, he was naked and he was holding his erection in his right hand.
“Still okay?” he asked me.
I’d seen dicks before. Ironically, not Connor’s, the boy who I’d had sex with. We’d been teenagers and it had been all shadows in a dark bedroom, almost hiding from each other while wedid it.
But you didn’t live on the street for any length of time and not see dicks.
Only, I’d never seen one with such intentions toward me before. I thought that might be awkward, too. Seeing E.G. naked. As if he might be someone else to me if he wasn’t wearing clothes, glasses and situated behind two large monitors.
But no. He was still himself. Hard. Intimidating. Formidable.
Unconsciously, I spread my legs on the bed to make room for him and he made that sound in the back of his throat again, but instead of getting on top of the bed with me, he dropped to his knees on the floor and then used my legs to pull me to the edge of the bed.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m going to make you come first,” he muttered, his mouth now super close to my pussy. I had a moment of embarrassment knowing how wet I must be. For him, for this.
“I don’t want that,” I sputtered. “Oral. I don’t want that.” It seemed like too much to handle right to start with. “I just want to do it.”
He ignored me and then I felt his tongue between the slick lips of my pussy.
“Ahhh.”
I didn’t even know what that sound was that I made. Urgent, desperate.
Feral.
I brought my hand up to my mouth and bit down on the pad of my thumb to keep from making it again. Because I had no idea what it felt like to have someone’s mouth at the center of my body like that.
He used his fingers, and there was a sting as I felt him push a second finger deep inside me, even while his tongue was flicking at my clit in a way that made me want to scream. He was relentless. Stroking me inside, then outside. His tongues and fingers felt everywhere.
I was going to come.
I knew what an orgasm was. I’d experimented enough with masturbation since getting my own apartment. Having my own bedroom. The freedom of it had been dizzying.
Sometimes I was successful. Sometimes I wasn’t.
If I thought about E.G. though, if I thought about his voice in my ear, if I thought about him pushing me up against the door of his office and ripping my clothes off…then it always happened.
Like it was happening now. I could feel it. My whole body stretching and tightening around my center.
There!
