Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  I eyed the paper, clearing my mind, inhaling deeply. What did I want to do? Better yet, what did I want to tell him I wanted to do? Honesty, honesty, honesty, kept running through my head. If I were to break out of this spell, I had to be open and honest, otherwise it wouldn’t mean anything—it wouldn’t amount to anything. One thing I’d always wanted to see was a Thunder from Down Under show in Las Vegas. Something about a man stripping excited me in ways I never wanted to admit, guarding that secret to the point of denial. I wrote down “Have a man strip for me” and turned the notebook back to Vince.

  “Really? Interesting . . .”

  “What does that mean?” I shot him a look.

  He leaned over, kissed my cheek, and then spoke in a low, soft voice in my ear, “It means that I can make that one happen.”

  The hint of that possibility turned me on as my pulse quickened. “Now you.” It didn’t take him long to come up with “Have sex publicly in a car.” When my mind grasped “public,” the thought just about sent me running for the hills, but I maintained my composure, reminding myself that it was only a list of fantasies and not some commandment I had to follow. When the pen came to me for my second fantasy, nothing came to mind, and I searched the darkest parts where I imprisoned all the things I wanted to ignore.

  “You want me to go again?” Vince asked after a few minutes went by in silence.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, but as I was handing the pen over, one formed in my head, based on the heady historical romances I read. “I’m not sure how to phrase this, but I’ve often imagined dressing up in nineteen thirties clothing, and walking into a P.I.’s office asking for help on a case. Then we have sex on the desk.”

  “So, like role-playing?”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s what it’s called. So should I write it all down?”

  “How about nineteen thirties P.I. office sex?” he suggested.

  I wrote it down next to the number four I made.

  “I have a role-play scenario of my own.” He laughed while writing it down.

  “You want to dress up as Spider-Man?”

  “And have sex with Mary Jane Watson. She’s one of the lead females in the story . . . Have you ever heard of the popular ‘Princess Leia in the golden bikini fantasy’?”

  I nodded. “There was a ‘Friends’ episode about it.”

  “Yeah, that’s right—well, this is my version of that.”

  I tried to picture how that would go, but it seemed so silly that I couldn’t conceptualize the scene and I gave up, thinking of something that I’d wanted to do. “How many should we write down?”

  “I guess until nothing else comes,” he answered. “Are you empty?”

  Shaking my head, I remembered a fantasy I’d always had when I was younger, but had forgotten about as I aged and became more sensitive to the subject. Writing it down felt like I was breaking free of the shackles that had been binding me since puberty.

  “Sex in the shower,” he read back. “That’s one that I’ve done.”

  “Was it as steamy as they make it look like in movies?”

  “You’ll just have to wait and see.” He put on a seductive smile that pulled me to his lips, and we paused our task for a short make-out session, resuming a few minutes later with hot breaths and an escalating sense of urgency. Despite the desire, Vince wanted to wait and let the moment build until it would be impossible to deny—a practice in restraint for both of us.

  He rolled to the side to give us a little more space. “You might not like this one, but I think part of making this list is employing full disclosure and honesty, and it’s something I’ve fantasized about on occasion, so I think it should be included.” He wrote it down, forcing a gasp out of me.

  “With whom? Alma?”

  There was nervous sweat beading down his forehead. “No, not with Alma. That would complicate a lot.”

  “Because she’s your business partner?”

  He hesitated for a breath, and then said, “Yes.”

  “Should I even ask: male or female?”

  He laughed hard. “Female.”

  The thought of a threesome scared the hell out of me, but I pushed the actual act to the back of my mind, keeping everything notional. “Then who with?” I bit my lip with a lascivious glint in my eyes, attempting to hide my revulsion.

  “I haven’t actually given it any thought,” he said, returning my lustful gaze. “When I’ve fantasized about it, the women never have recognizable faces, you know . . . they’re just imaginary.”

  “I see . . .”

  “If we decided to do it, we would both have to choose the person, together.”

  I wanted to puke, but settled on nodding, accepting the pen when he offered it. “Sounds fair. Back to me . . .” I sighed. How many more could I come up with? I felt at the end of the road with my ideas. There was nothing left in the imagination tank. Until I glanced up and saw the beautiful beach picture in my “Hawaiian Aerial Views” calendar, which was still on January. “Have you ever been to Hawaii?”

  “No,” he replied, following my gaze to the calendar.

  “I’ve always wanted to go, and do this . . .” I wrote down, “Sex on the beach.”

  He read it. “I’ve heard that the sand gets everywhere, even inside.”

  I shuddered. “That would suck.”

  “I would imagine it wouldn’t be fun.”

  “But it would be romantic,” I said, staring at the picture, almost losing myself there and then. I unpinned the calendar and found a spot that I imagined would be perfect to roll around, secluded and expansive, the waves continuously pounding the beach, pounding, pounding, pounding.

  “Maci?”

  Vince stirred me from the reverie. “Sorry.” I tossed the calendar to my desk.

  “I take it you’re really into that one?” He flashed his teeth in a provocative manner, or so it seemed to my dreaming eyes.

  “Yes,” I rasped, clearing my throat.

  “This one might be a little extreme—I don’t know.” He glided the notebook across the bed.

  “Male dominance? Is that like whipping and stuff?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat to regain composure. “That’s not exactly what I was thinking. I—I was thinking more like restraints and blindfolds.” He held his breath, waiting for a response.

  “Oh, okay . . . So like bondage?”

  “Yeah, I guess . . . that sounds right.”

  “Hmm . . .” I paused, unsure what to say. Maybe this had gone too far. What kind of side was I seeing right now? Threesomes? Bondage? I wasn’t prepared for that. But that was the point, right? The reason behind this was to get everything out in the open and talk about it. I’m not a prude, I repeated in my head. I can do this. I can be open-minded. It’s only talk. “So what would we do?” There was an inkling of dread in my voice.

  “I don’t know. We’d have to research it, together,” he emphasized, “and come up with a scenario that both of us would be interested in. Of course, that’s only if you want to. It’s a list of ideas, and we don’t have to do everything we write down: it’s just to help us get started in the right direction. To get us both more comfortable with talking about sex.” He made an effort to comfort me, rubbing my back. “Don’t get overwhelmed by the suggestions.”

  I eyed the list. It was hard not to feel overwhelmed—but I was also aroused at the same time. There was so much to try in the world of sex; it was exhilarating to think about. I went through all the actions that had turned me on in movies, and then my mind stumbled on one of the more obvious choices: oral sex. “I don’t know how to say it exactly, or spell it, but I think it’s pronounced cunn-ing-ling-us.”

  “Oral sex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think it’s cun-ni-lin-gus,” he said.

  I wrote it out like he pronounced it. The word sent me near the edge of breaking, the anticipation so hot and difficult to control. Of all the things on the
list, cunnilingus was what I desired most, given all the praise by Danielle, Ashley, and Bridgett. It sounded more erotic, more appealing than the rest, even though it was one of the simplest of the fantasies.

  After that, Vince wrote down “Sex outside.” “That’s pretty much the same as sex on the beach,” I pointed out. “At least, it’s in the same category. Where at—like in a park?”

  “Sure, maybe a park. Maybe a pasture. I don’t really know, just outside somewhere, besides a hazardous beach.”

  “A pasture?” I giggled. “That doesn’t sound romantic at all.”

  “The cows could sing for us as they graze,” he joked, but both of us knew how lame it sounded. “Or maybe not,” he added quickly. “Back to you.”

  “I think I’m out,” I said, regarding the short, yet somehow daunting list.

  “That’s it? Only five fantasies?” He observed me with mock suspicion. “You don’t have any secret, deep dark ones that you’re holding back?” The red of my face that had been present all night deepened. “I thought there might be. You can tell me. Look”—he tapped the paper—“I told you some that I’ve never shared with anyone else. It’s okay if it’s super dirty or whatever.” His encouragement melted my insecurities.

  The pen scratched the paper as I wrote “Role reversal, female domination.” “What do you mean?” he asked after I showed him.

  I swallowed nervously. All of a sudden it seemed like I had an excessive amount of saliva in my mouth and all I could do was swallow it down. “Um—” My vocal cords seized up.

  “Maci, it’s all right. Do you mean like penetration?”

  I nodded, trembling.

  “With what? A dildo?”

  I gave him a faint smile. “A str-strap-on.”

  His eyes grew huge. “Oh. Whoa. Got it.” He was nodding and wetting his lips. “Well, I guess that’s only fair that you would have that fantasy when I have the male-dominant one. It makes sense. I’m not sure I could ever do it, just like you might never be able to do mine, and that’s okay. It’s out there, and we can talk about it.”

  I slammed my face into a pillow. “You think I’m a freak, don’t you?”

  He snorted. “A freak? What?” He tried to roll me over, but I refused to turn over. “No, I don’t think you’re a freak, Maci. I guarantee you a lot of women have the same fantasy, even if they don’t admit it. It seems pretty normal to wonder what it would be like to switch places, I think.”

  “Have you ever thought about it?” I asked, my stomach knotting. I could tell he hadn’t, but that he also didn’t want to make me feel worse.

  He sighed. “To be honest, no, I haven’t. But there are a lot of people out there doing a lot of different things in the bedroom.” I could hear him grab his phone and it spoke with beeps. “The term for what you want to do is called pegging,” he said a minute later. “See, enough people do it that there’s a term for it.”

  I sat up and read the Wikipedia entry on it. The article produced conflicted feelings—I was simultaneously titillated and disconcerted. It was as though the thought was heinous and immoral with a forbidden aspect that turned me on in the hottest ways. As I read, Vince flipped through the Guide to Getting It On! “There’s even a section in here on it. See?”

  “Huh . . . ‘Bend Over Boyfriend’ . . .”

  “My point is, enough people do it that you shouldn’t feel weird about it. And just because I haven’t thought about it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just never entered my mind.”

  I took the book and folded the corner, a bad habit of mine. “For later.”

  He leaned in so that our foreheads kissed. “So, does that mean you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I’d feel more comfortable if we moved on, though. For now.”

  He gave me a quick peck, then returned to the position he had been in most of the night. I sat in front of him and put my back to the wall with crisscrossed legs. “So it looks like it’s my turn. I have one that I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” He scribbled it down.

  “Sixty-nine until you come? In my mouth?”

  “Doesn’t have to be, though that would be way hotter,” he answered. “There’s seven for me and six for you on the list. You should think of one more to make it even, and then we’ll call it good. It’s already been a few hours.”

  I glanced at the clock, amazed. It was almost nine, yet it didn’t even feel like an hour had passed. One more . . . one more . . . what else is there? My body was running too hot to think, all I wanted was Vince—more specifically, his tongue. I wanted it all over my body. To speed things up, I wrote down a generic fantasy, not really one I’d had before, but one that others, most notably Bridgett, had discussed with fondness. I jotted down “14. Sex on a plane” and showed him.

  “You want to join the mile high club, eh?” he teased. “I can’t say I’m fond of airplanes, but that might make the time pass quicker.”

  “That’s fourteen: seven for me and seven for you.”

  He went to his knees. “What do you say we cross one of them off right now?” The anticipation in his voice reflected my own expectations. They were wound so tightly, I almost jumped him. Then I did, throwing my arms and legs around him, pushing my lips on his.

  He hit the notebook, pointing. “This one! This one!” he commanded in a heady voice.

  I looked over at the list, bit my lip, and nodded.

  11

  ONE DOWN

  Vince wrestled off my shirt, unhooked my bra, and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking wildly. Freed, my nipples hardened as he squished my breasts together, squeezing gently. He kissed each one in turn before I yanked off his shirt, diving at his chest, kissing up to his neck and sucking.

  “Ah,” he moaned, and I released my hold. He stood, threw me to the bed, stripped off my pants and panties in one swift tug, and fell to his knees, pulling my thighs toward his head. He pressed his nose against my right thigh and inhaled. “Your pussy smells so sweet.” His dirty talk was intoxicating. Pussy, I repeated in my head. I had never called my v-spot that but it sounded so right in the moment. I rose to kiss him, my impulses running wild, but he tenderly pushed me flat. He ran his nose down one thigh, above my clit, and up my other thigh.

  The softness drove me crazy as I released a moan. My legs squirmed beneath his touch as he began making a trail of kisses back to my v-spot over my well-trimmed mound, then up my other thigh again. Wait! A voice screamed in my head. Was I really going to let him do it? He’d be the first man down there in unexplored territory, but that was the point, right? To let go and embrace my sexual urges—to indulge the fantasy.

  Yes, I motivated myself. Yes, it’s what I want!

  The building anticipation nearly made me grab his head and force him to my center, but I waited, patiently, losing control second by second.

  Finally his nose and lips gravitated back to my—pussy. That was the word. He hovered over her, teasing her—until his nose swirled around my clit and my body contracted, releasing a giant shudder of pleasure. I groaned. I’d never felt so wet inside, so horny, so lost in emotion and sensation. His arms wrapped around my thighs, his fingers massaging as he continued to nuzzle my clit, circling, circling, and then unexpectedly, he added his tongue, probing my pink lips. My body clenched in reaction and I grasped his hair. It was so soft and curly. I ran my fingernails along his scalp while he licked up and down, my hips rotating with the movement, around and around, unstoppable.

  I glanced at his head between my legs and at the same time his eyes opened, meeting my gaze. The burning contact pushed me over the edge, and I screamed with euphoric joy. It was so unexpected that I grabbed a pillow to muffle the noise. His nose continued its assault on my clit as his tongue spread my lips open, gliding between my pussy and clit. Each stroke triggered a wave of ecstasy that started in my clit and shot to the nape of my neck. I could feel my clit swelling, my lips opening, the blood surging.

  Then he bit down on the bundle of nerves and my abs f
lexed. “Oh, God!” I cried out. I grasped the sheets so hard, my fists hurt, but I didn’t care, letting the sensation build and pulse through me. When he began sucking on my clit, seismic waves blasted through my body, my stomach contracting as if I were doing crunches.

  Holy shit! This is incredible! The building sensation was so intense that I could feel the tipping point approaching.

  He suddenly released my clit, paused, and then calmed his attack, kissing my thighs. “You taste so good,” he said breathily, flattening his tongue against my wetness and licking up in broad strokes.

  He started rubbing his erection against the bed, moaning as his tongue worked, swirling, swirling. I clutched the pillow again, stifling another bout of screams. My wrists ached from the torturous, yet glorious exertion that rocked my body. “Vince,” I whispered. It was the first time I unintentionally said a lover’s name—a real cry of heightened emotion.

  “I could do this for hours.” He kissed my lady lips, once, twice, and then pressed his tongue hard into my clit and circled. He changed up the routine several times, and I soon lost track of time, the minutes melting away, my body contracting, throbbing, convulsing. My hips never stopped moving, despite Vince’s effort to hold them in place, and soon he gave up, his hands sliding to my butt, reinforcing the gyrations.

  “Let’s see how you like this.” I watched him wet his index finger, then sensually cup my pussy, massaging. I closed my eyes, and he slowly dipped his finger inside, a little at first, then out, then in a little more, then out again, until finally his entire finger was inside, rotating.

  My breathing calmed as he fingered me for a break, then slipped out, startling me. He didn’t see my reaction, his face rushing in for another round. My hands flailed about, beyond hope of control. The building excitement regained its momentum as his tongue danced with my clit.

  My hips wriggled and writhed in pure bliss, and then without warning, he changed everything, shoving two fingers inside me, his tips curling back toward him, rubbing the wall.