As my straps hang loose over my upper arms, I reach behind me and undo the clasp. Crossing my arms across my chest, I hold the loose material against me. Revealing my upper body in its utter nakedness while he sits there below me is too much. It’s going to take a lot more confidence than I have right now to pull that off.
“Let it go, May.”
“I can’t.” I’m trembling again. I’m not sure if it’s fear or anticipation in charge.
“You can and you will.”
I shake my head no but can’t speak. Fear and nerves have my tongue, and they’re not letting it go.
He leans forward and reaches up to put his hands on my thighs. His fingers are hot on my air-cooled skin. Slowly they climb over my hips and waist to my elbows.
“Give yourself to me, May.”
Tears make my eyes bright. “I can’t.”
“Of course you can.” He takes the edge of my bra and gently tugs it out from under my arms.
I let it go because the bigger part of me wants to do this, wants to be naked with him. The smaller part of me that’s self-conscious and finds me lacking wants to run for the hills and never look back. A fall from this height is going to be really, really painful, and we haven’t even had sex yet.
Now the only thing covering my chest is my arms. Why do they have to be so skinny? My breasts are falling out everywhere.
He leans back onto the couch again, bringing the bra up to his face. He closes his eyes as he inhales. “Smells like your skin.” His eyes open and he smiles.
I almost laugh. “Creepy.”
He tosses the bra aside and sits up again. His hands start at my calves and slowly draw upward, both tickling me and setting me aflame. Goose bumps rise up everywhere.
“I love the way you smell, the way your skin feels, the way you stare at me with that wrinkle between your eyes.”
“Wrinkle? What wrinkle?”
I’m too distracted to realize what he’s up to until his fingers are at the edge of my panties, near the top.
I grab my chest with one arm, while the other hand goes over my panties. “What are you doing?”
“You want to keep them on?” He shrugs. “Okay by me.” He leans in and puts his face on the front of me, over my panties.
Holy crap, what’s he . . .? Oh my god, that’s . . . niiiice.
My hand is in the way, but he moves his face around until he can get his mouth between my fingers. His hot breath comes through the light, silky material, heating up my most sensitive area. I think that’s about as sexy as this thing can get, and then he starts moving his mouth around and I realize I was waaaay wrong about that.
I moan when the feelings start to get out of control. How is he doing this to me? He’s moaning too, and moving his mouth and breathing hot air everywhere, and it’s making me feel like I’m going to have an orgasm with my panties still on. What the hell? I don’t even have orgasms. My orgasm maker is broken or something. I figured that out a long time ago, and it’s been confirmed by every boyfriend I’ve ever had. I’m just one of those women who never gets them.
The hand of mine that was trying to guard against his invasion moves back up to my chest. Pretending I don’t want him doing what he’s doing is ridiculous. I’m not fooling anyone.
He takes advantage of my surrender by pulling my panties down and burying his face in my mound. I was totally not expecting that.
I gasp and drop my hands, putting them first on his head and then his shoulders. I need to hold on to something so I don’t collapse. His tongue is sliding into my hot, wet folds and I cry out with delight. Maybe I should be self-conscious about being so free and open to him, but I’m too turned on to worry about anything right now.
I feel him moving around as he continues to lick me, but I don’t realize until his hands are on my waist and he’s pulling away that he was taking off his boxers and putting on protection.
I look down and see his hard-on angled up at me. My panties are at my thighs. He’s looking up at me with a mouth covered in my wetness. I let my panties drop to the floor and step out of them.
“Come here,” he says, guiding me to sit on him.
I put one knee next to his left thigh and the other to his right.
“Put it in,” he says, this time with more of a growl to his tone.
My heart is racing, but I need to feel him inside me. That tongue of his really got me amped up. Forget being embarrassed, forget being naked at work. I need this, and I need it now.
When our bodies first make contact, I’m not sure it’s going to work. He’s too big and I’m too swollen from what he’s done to excite me already. But when he pushes up into me, he proves that I’m wrong, wrong, wrong. Again. He fits, but just barely. I lower myself onto him, groaning the whole way as I’m stretched to the max.
“Mmmmm . . .” He obviously enjoys it too. I smile at the look on his face when I lift myself up and come down for another stroke. “May, you’re amazing . . .”
I lean forward and rest my hands on the couch, making it easier to move like I need to. My breasts touch his face.
He takes them in his hands and sucks first one and then the other nipple. The sensation of feeling him inside me, and also his hands and mouth fondling my breasts, is unreal. I move faster to keep up with the need building. He squeezes and kneads. My nipples get harder than they’ve ever been before.
“Kiss me,” he says in a whisper.
I lean down as best I can, but it’s not easy to reach him. I’m about to give up when he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my back. He’s above me, positioning one knee in the couch cushion and the other leg on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.
He sinks all the way into me, even farther than he’d been before. “I’m fucking you, May.”
The hard words and the dangerous look on his face send a rush of sexual energy through me. My muscles spasm and grip him from the inside. His eyes widen as he feels it and then he bites his bottom lip, pushing into me until he can’t go any more.
“Oh my god . . .” I lift my legs and wrap them around him. “Ozzie . . .” It’s a plea. I’m not sure what I’m begging for, but I hope he gives it to me soon.
His thrusts start slow and easy. We kiss, tongues tangling, lips mashing, his late evening beard scratching my chin. I can feel the muscles move beneath the skin of his back. Massive muscles, tense and corded, undulate with the in and out strokes that are slowly building a tension in me that begs to be released. My hands slide down to his hips and his butt where I can push him harder against me. He reads my signals perfectly, slowing at the deepest part, rubbing, drawing away only to bury himself again.
I can feel when he starts to lose control. His sweat begins to drip down onto my belly, where it mingles with mine. His breath comes in pants. His face is an expression of both pain and pleasure.
“Oh, Ozzie,” I cry, feeling like I’m about to explode. I’m not sure where we go from here; I just know I don’t ever want this to stop.
“Come on, baby,” he says, urging me toward something.
I have to move faster. My body demands it. The core of me insists. It’s the only way. The only way to end this sweet torture.
And then he just stops. He freezes. Buried to the hilt, he stops and breathes heavily above me.
“What are you doing?”
“You move now. It’s your turn,” he says.
I lay there under him in confusion. “How can I move when you’re on top?”
He half-shrugs. “I don’t know. See if you can figure it out.”
If this will make him happy, I’m going to do it. Besides, the feeling of his huge hard length inside me is driving me wild. I couldn’t sit still if I wanted to. My hips are already moving.
I tense my pelvis up toward him. With that tiny movement, I feel a sharp but amazing sensation in my core. Pulling away and doing it again makes it happen a second time. I spread my legs farther apart.