I became a quaking mess. I’d been anticipating this all day. Sex was something I’d always wanted to enjoy, but I’d been underwhelmed. I had a feeling that was about to change. Christopher knew what he was doing and what I needed. I couldn’t keep my hips still as he stroked around and around—his fingers teasing cruel perfection.
I closed my eyes, gave myself over to the feeling, and came on his hand. Before I could be embarrassed, he dropped to his knees and kissed my pulsing center. Devouring me. I’d had no one send me to the next level this way, and I came again, shuddering hard, gripping his hair to stay upright.
We still hadn’t made it to the bedroom. I didn’t think I could take more, but we weren’t done. He could have leaned me against the counter and taken me. From the look in his heavy-lidded eyes, it looked like he’d considered it.
Christopher undressed and peeled off my remaining clothes, stripping me slowly, like he was unwrapping his birthday present, drawing out when I’d be naked. His fingers brushed my breasts, caressed my hips, and teased my heated flesh. On his knees, he kissed my stomach before he slid my skirt down. He stepped back. From the expression in his eyes, he admired my body as much as I admired his in all its glory.
“My turn.” His smile was sensual.
Drunk and slow from pleasure, it took me a few seconds to understand his words. I read his smile and dropped to my knees. He leaped at my touch after I stroked his impressive cock. I ached again, longing for what he’d promised. But I could wait, let the anticipation rebuild. I licked him, starting at the base and flicking upward to the tip. I repeated this motion twice more before I took him in my mouth. Two could play this game.
He cursed as I took more and slid him in and out each time I took as much as I could. I used my hands and my mouth, wanting him as turned on as I was. I watched his face with each movement. His eyes closed, and he held the counter for support. When he grabbed my head to speed my movements, I gasped. He was so hard that I was concerned about the next part; he was a formidable weapon. I whimpered while I sucked, my sounds unstoppable.
I teased Christopher, slowing my torture each time he neared release.
“You’re exquisite.” His voice was husky and ragged.
His hands tangled in my hair, guiding my movement. I touched myself, and the heat built with each swirl that matched the rhythm of my mouth. His eyes watched my mouth, then my hand. I smiled.
I’d forgotten we were in the kitchen until he pulled me to my feet and led me down a darkened hall to his bedroom. Pushing me up against the wall, he held my hands over my head in one of his and slid his other into me. I should have been embarrassed by the sounds I made, but I wasn’t. We moaned into each other’s mouths as we kissed. I wanted this to continue forever. Flipping on the switch inside the door, he nudged me into his room and onto the bed.
He pulled my legs apart and knelt between them, once more touching me with his magic fingers. When I was close to ecstasy once more, the sweet rip of a packet came. I kept my eyes closed and my fingers busy, taking over while he paused. Seconds later, his massive, hard cock pushed inside me. I bucked beneath him, clenching tighter, uncontrolled desire coursing through every cell. I was on fire.
The world spun as I ground myself against him and cried out. Almost like pain, but pleasure spiraled and erupted like fireworks in my brain. Not yet satisfied, I pulled him deeper. With my hips, I held him where I needed him and fucked him in return. The world went dark around the edges and my vision blurred. I needed this. Not just sex, but sex with Christopher.
The sounds I made weren’t coherent as I exploded again. The grand mal. This was like no orgasm I’d had before. I gave him everything, holding nothing back. I wasn’t myself. I was wild sparks, heat, and light—lost for an unknown length of time. When he thrust again, I shook and shuddered. I tried to recover and participate, but he was content to do all the hard work.
He’d told the truth. There was nothing gentle. Each thrust was power. Twice he tossed me into unique positions as though I were a toy, a rag doll. Twice more I came, my limbs limp, before I regrouped. I lost track of time and the number of my orgasms. It felt unfair, but he was patient. I could stay here forever. My head was empty. In the literal sense, he’d fucked me senseless.
I’d never been with anyone that had this kind of stamina. I squeezed with a final spasm and without warning, he finally lost control. It was incredible to see and feel how far he went. I marveled at our chemistry. First sex was never incredible. Hell, no sex was like this. It was typically awkward, and I otherwise regretted its anticlimactic quality. In the past, I’d been disappointed, but this was beyond my wildest expectations. It was my best sex fantasies come true, and then some. Another Olympic gold. Platinum.
He caressed my hip as though he couldn’t bear not to touch me.
“I wanted more,” he said. “I could have held off a few more minutes.”
I laughed and kissed him, nipping at his bottom lip. His heart hammered against mine. I rested my hand on his chest to feel its movement.
“What will we do for an encore?” His eyes closed, and he rested his forehead on mine.
I couldn’t tell if he’d read my mind, or if it was how he felt. I was too blissed out to care.
Before Christopher rolled away, he kissed me again, soft and gentle—the opposite of our wild ride, but no less passionate. I’d missed out my whole life and was now spoiled for sex with anyone else. It was unthinkable. Was he as shell-shocked?
“I don’t know what to say. Can I keep you? I want that every time,” he said.
I laughed. Me too.
He stroked the side of my face. Perhaps he heard, or perhaps it was written on my face. We kissed again. Every nerve ending I possessed still tingled. His lips were swollen, and I suspected mine were too. He wanted me wrecked, and I was. We rested on his bed while our breathing returned to normal.
Eventually, we recovered enough to return to the kitchen for our clothes and for ice cream. He heaped the bowls with salted caramel gelato, splitting the carton between us. Settling onto the soft couch together, he pulled up Netflix and found Buffy.
“Ready for ‘The Wish?’”
I nodded. His feet rested on the coffee table. I sat sideways against him, my legs on the couch. When we finished our ice cream, he threaded his arm around me and held me close. I’d never been more satisfied, both physically and emotionally.
In this episode, Buffy wondered if anything she’d done in Sunnydale made a difference, but the viewers saw what happened when an angry friend wished she’d never come to town. Without her, in the alternate version of life, her friends became vampires, Buffy was hard and cold inside, and the town became hell on Earth. The show struck a chord. Sometimes I’d wondered if anyone would notice if I disappeared, if my presence made a difference to anyone.
Looking at Christopher, I realized I was living my alternate reality, and here I mattered. I’d be content to sit with him and hang out, read, watch TV, anything. I pictured years of contentment. This was the start of something fantastic. He took my hand, once more tracing circles on my skin.
