Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“It’s not your job to make it good for me or for you. We’re here to make it good for each other…it’s a joint effort, but today, it’s on me.” Stefan reaches out to touch my hair, and gently strokes my cheek and I melt a little inside at his tenderness.
It feels good to be touched this way, but it isn’t about love. It’s not about affection. It’s just about physical pleasure and learning for the article. I have to remember that and keep these men and myself on track.
“You’re still partially dressed.” I scan from his neck down to his knees, appreciating the way his linen shorts cling to his muscular thighs. I focus on his physical appearance and not how safe and appreciated he’s making me feel.
“Ladies first in all things,” he says, the perfect gentleman. “I want you to get on the bed and relax. We’ll take it one step at a time.” His fingers lace through mine, and he leads me like a debutant at a ball to the bed I scrambled to make neat. I take a seat awkwardly at the edge of the mattress, but he quickly scoops beneath my legs and swings me into the center, climbing onto the bed, too.
We’re really doing this. I’m really going to find out what it feels like to be with a man.
“Just remember, we can stop at any time. Just say the word.”
I nod, and he does what I’ve been desperate for him to do since he came into the room. He draws my panties over my hips, then takes hold of my ankles and plants my feet wide enough apart for him to access my most private place.
“Has anyone ever made you come before?” He leans forward, placing his palms against the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs. I flush as bright as the sun as he eases my legs open even further, spreading my already slick pussy.
I shake my head, feeling shame even though I’m not at fault. Maybe I am for not being demanding enough. For failing to give good enough directions. Or for being too physically repressed to let go when my exes tried to use their fingers and tongues to bring me to orgasm. Or maybe they were just lazy lovers who, once they found out I wasn’t an easy lay, just gave up.
“I’m going to lick you.” He’s already leaning in when he says it and I have to close my eyes to lock myself away from the embarrassment of this moment. Does anyone ever get used to having someone so close to this part of their body? How?
The first swipe of his tongue is tentative, exploratory. The tip circles my clit, nudging it until it tingles and swells, then slides lower, probing my entrance, making my hips buck.
Nothing has ever felt this good. Not my own furtive fingers or any of my ex’s pathetic attempts.
When my legs snap closed against Stefan’s head, he murmurs his approval, never letting up on the pace of his caresses, never changing tempo. And it’s his relentlessness, his considered focus, that takes me closer and closer and closer until he finally pushes me over the edge. Bright, sparking flashes of light assault me, and my body arches under his touch. My heart races triple time, and I make a noise that sounds strange and animalistic. At the start of my orgasm, Stefan pulls back, knowing that everything is too sensitive in that moment, but after, when I can breathe again, he rests the heel of his hand over my pussy, pressing just a little, making all the warm pleasure between my legs last longer.
“That’s it.” He sounds pleased with himself, and he should be. He just proved that I’m not broken and showed me how okay it is to lie back and have pleasure delivered so unselfishly. He made me so wet I can feel my arousal cooling between the cheeks of my ass.
My top lip is stuck to my teeth, so I use my tongue to free it, words blinking into my brain and disappearing just as fast. I want to say thank you. I want to tell him how much it means to me to have experienced this, to know a man who’s been around the block enough times that he doesn’t require me to tell him what to do but can read me like braille.
But saying thank you for an orgasm seems pathetic.
When I open my eyes fully, I find my gaze fixed on the bar of his cock beneath the fabric of his shorts. It looks painfully confined and desperate to be unleashed.
His smile is radiant, and his eyes are bright with satisfaction and achievement. I wish I could give him a frigging gold star for effort.
“That was…” When I trail off, his grin grows wider.