by Lisa Ferrari
I’m so close.
I’m right on the edge.
But it isn’t happening.
Kellan continues his relentless thrusting, impaling me again and again fast and deep.
I’m so close.
It should be happening.
But it isn’t.
I’m on the edge.
I’m afraid I’m going to pee.
I need to stop.
But I’m so close. So, so close.
I squirt.
I squirt everywhere.
All over Kellan, all over myself, all over the mirror.
I hardly notice. An orgasm unlike any I’ve ever had takes over. My head drops back and a primal screaming moan of utter ecstasy comes out of me.
I keep coming.
And coming.
And coming.
GRADUALLY, MY ORGASM subsides, dissipating into small aftershocks. But my vagina and clitoris and everything between my legs is so sensitive I can barely take having Kellan inside me.
But he isn’t stopping.
If anything, he’s picked up the pace. He’s freely sweating now. He’s grunting and breathing heavily.
My body is weak. It’s all I can do to hang on to him. I redouble my grip on the back of his neck.
Minutes pass. Many minutes. Of pure ecstasy.
Kellan is a machine.
I don’t know if he’s trying to come or trying to make me come. I can’t. There’s no way. I’m spent.
I’m almost ready to ask him to stop so I can breathe when his head goes back and he utters his own primal moan of ecstasy.
I feel him gush into me.
I’m so spent I don’t climax this time. I’m thus able to observe and enjoy his orgasm. His entire body shudders. His eyes close. His abs and legs flex in a steady rhythm, as does his erection. I feel like he could remove his hands from my butt and he could hold me up in the air with his cock.
Wow.
Kellan sinks to his knees. He lowers me to the carpet and collapses on top of me. He’s heavy. He’s still inside me. I can feel his glutes and pelvic muscles tense as he ejaculates every last drop deep inside me.
I love it.
But he’s heavy and I can’t draw a full breath of air.
As if he can read my mind, he shifts sideways, gently withdraws, and collapses onto his back. His penis is still hard. Wet and glistening. It slaps against his abdomen.
Semen trickles out of me and I reach down quickly to catch it. I scoop it up and rub it all over my clit and pubic hair and stomach. My clit is so sensitive I can’t touch it.
I look over at Kellan. He’s on his back, breathing heavily, like he just did a set of twenty deadlifts. “You okay?”
“Perfect. I came three times.” He gasps for air and swallows hard. “I can’t believe I came three times. I’ve never been able to come three times. Do we have any water I desperately need water do we have any?”
I gather my strength and stagger over to the kitchen, where there is a gallon of water. I kneel down and hand it to Kellan. He takes it, unscrews the cap, and chugs half of it, with water spilling all down his neck and chest. It’s animalistic.
Finally he puts it down and just breathes.
“Better?”
He nods. “Wow. That was hot.”
“What was?”
“All of it. You squirted on me.”
I’m suddenly embarrassed. I look down at my hands.
“No, Claire…” Kellan grabs my chin and lifts my face. He scoots forward and kisses me. “I loved it.” He kisses me again, harder, and then with tongue. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The words come out freely. Before my mind can get in the way.
Kellan gets to his knees and takes me in his arms. His big, sweaty body engulfs me. It’s perfect.
“LET’S TAKE A shower and then pass the fuck out,” Kellan says.
“Okay.”
He lets go of me and takes my face in his hands. He gazes into my eyes. I want to look away but I can’t.
“You are so gorgeous,” he murmurs. “And beautiful. And sexy. Oh my God. I wish I had video of you coming when we were doing it standing up.”
The notion is mortifying. But deep down, I wish we had video of it, too. If only so I could focus on Kellan fucking my brains out.
He stands up and helps me up as well.
We go into the shower and bathe each other.
His erection has waned but it’s still thick. It flops around heavily as he dries himself.
“Claire, what are you looking at?”
I see Kellan watching me as I am studying his manhood.
“Don’t even think about it,” he says, grinning.
But I am thinking about it. I’m thinking about what would happen if I got on my knees and fellated the s-h-i-t out of him. Would he get hard again? I bet he would.
“I can’t,” he says. “My dick hurts.”
“Really?”
“It’s pretty sore.” He hangs our damp towels and takes me by the hand and leads me to bed. We lie down together in the cool, soft sheets. “Did you know you were going to squirt like that?”
“No, I had no idea.”
“What did it feel like?”
“I’m not sure I can articulate it. Um, it felt good. Obviously. I was watching us in the mirror. Seeing it was a real turn on. Feeling it was… unbelievable.”
“But did you know you were going to squirt?”
“I had no idea. I wanted desperately to come. I was right on the edge for a long time. I felt like I was about to have an orgasm, but I couldn’t. It just wouldn’t happen. And then I felt like I needed to pee. I was about ready to tell you to stop. And then all of a sudden all this fluid came out of me. And before I could process it, I came.”
“Was it good?”
“It was beyond good. Why do you ask? Are you afraid you didn’t do me adequately?”
“No, no, of course not. It’s just that I’ve always been curious about what a female’s orgasm feels like.”
“What does yours feel like?”
“Well, in my experience, there are basically two parts to the male orgasm. First is ejaculation, and then comes the orgasm itself.”
“What does it feel like?”
“It feels like everything is building up and all your muscles are tensing. When it finally starts, it’s like an explosion comes out of your dick. The semen comes out and then all your muscles contract and the orgasm becomes the focus. It gets stronger and stronger. The intensity varies depending on how long it’s been since the last time you came, and how long you’ve been having sex before you finally come. A longer build-up usually makes the orgasm more powerful. And there is some overlap between the ejaculation and the orgasm. Plus…” Kellan’s gaze shifts to the ceiling as he formulates his thought into words. “The magnitude of the orgasm is inversely proportional to the quantity of semen expelled which is a direct result of time since previous ejaculation.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if I haven’t come for a week, there will be more semen inside me and the majority of my total orgasm will be devoted to ejaculation, and the orgasm will be a bit weaker and probably a bit shorter.”
“What if you come three times in one day? In, like, an hour?”
Kellan laughs. “Well, the first one on the bed was good. Really good. I… I, um, really liked it when you put your hand on my throat and pulled my hair. It was like you were in control. You were dominating me. That was surprisingly hot. The second one, in the bathroom, was also good. Unexpected, but good. The first one was about a nine or a nine-point-five. The second was about an eight-point-something, probably because I was tired.”
“What about the third one?”
“That was also a surprise. I figured there was no way I could come again. No way. Three times in less than an hour? No way. But I wanted to make love to you again. And then when I saw you in the mirror—forgive me for being a bit crude here—but I wanted to
fuck your brains out. I wanted to do you harder and deeper and faster and better than anyone ever has before.”
“You did.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding? That was porn-star-caliber intercourse.”
Kellan smiles, a bit bashfully I think.
“Are we pleased with ourselves, Mister Kearns?”
“Maybe. A little.”
“So what number would you give your third orgasm?” It’s like we’re judging ice skating in the Olympics.
Kellan laughs. “This is just like judging ice skaters, like we’re in the sexual Olympics.”
It totally freaks me out the way he echoes my thoughts that way. I also love it.
“Um, the third one was good,” he continues, “but my penis hurt a little, so that inhibited it a bit.”
“It hurt, really?”
“A little. It gets sore inside and the head hurts a little because it’s straining so hard.”
“Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. I loved every second of it.”
Kellan traces his fingertips up and down my nude body. It’s simultaneously relaxing and arousing.
“Do you like that?” he asks.
I nod. I kind of want to sleep. “It’s nice. It relaxes me but it turns me on at the same time.”
Kellan chuckles. “That’s exactly what fellatio feels like.”
“Really?”
“Pretty much. The first couple minutes are so, so, so relaxing. You can feel all the stress leaving your body. Your whole body relaxes. And then you start getting aroused and worked up in a different way. I love that. Especially the way you do it.”
“Really?” This is somewhat embarrassing. Having my penis-sucking skills evaluated to my face feels funny.
“Really. The way you do it, it’s like… like you’re actually enjoying it. A lot of people, men and women, give oral because they feel like they’re expected to. Especially women. That’s bullshit. If you don’t want to do it, you shouldn’t do it. Which is why I’m so happy that you like doing it and that you do it so often.”
“I wanted to do it in the bathroom just now.”
“I know. I saw you staring at it.”
“What if I did? Or what if I did it right now? Would it get hard again?”
“Probably. Viagra is supposed to last four hours or so.”
“So if it works for another two hours, how come you’re not hard now?”
“After you orgasm, the refractory period starts and the erection usually goes away. But it does make it easier to get it up again.”
“I see.” I could so deep-throat him right now just to see what happens.
Kellan’s eyes are closing. He’s exhausted. I am, too.
Kellan’s breathing steadies. His hand settles on mine. He’s asleep in a matter of seconds.
I find it endearing. My heart aches for him.
In the dim light of the setting sun going down orange and big and round into the sea outside our window, I say the words. I don’t know if Kellan is still conscious enough to hear me. I hope he is. I’m scared if he is and I’m scared if he isn’t. But I say them anyway, when we’re not caught up in a moment of passion.
“I love you.”
I think I can feel Kellan’s hand tighten on mine before sleep claims us both.
Chapter 14
THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up and feel like crap.
Because I slept like crap.
I had bad dreams that I was on a beach chasing Kellan but I could never catch him. No matter how hard I ran, he never drew any closer.
I hate dreams where I’m running in slow motion.
Something is bothering me. I think I know why. I have butterflies in my stomach. Not good ones; bad ones. Dread.
Kellan is already awake, reading Goblet.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “How’d you sleep?” He leans down and kisses me tenderly. He brushes my hair out of my face and hooks it behind my ear. He looks sleepy and groggy but he’s smiling at me.
“Lousy. You?” Maybe he slept poorly as well, and for the same reason.
“I slept great.”
Oh.
“Except I had to pee twice and my penis hurts. And my legs. And my back.”
“From lifting me up?”
“No, no. From carrying Tank’s fat ass halfway to Baja. No, carrying you is fine. I love it. But… I was kind of worried about you.”
“Why were you worried about me?”
“Well, we had the best sex in the history of the world and took a nice shower together and talked and went to bed. But I sensed maybe you weren’t…”
“Weren’t what?”
“Happy.”
“What do you mean, happy?”
“Um, like, with me. With… being my girlfriend.”
Oh Jesus. A geyser of ice-cold water erupts inside me and I’m suddenly very terrified and very awake. I sit up on one elbow. “No, I am. I am. I’m very happy being your girlfriend. I love being your girlfriend. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. Why? Don’t you want me to be your girlfriend anymore?”
I’m aware that I’m speaking very, very quickly but I can’t help it and I really don’t care.
“No, I mean, yes, I love that you’re my girlfriend and I want you to continue being my girlfriend and I want to go on being your boyfriend. It’s just that yesterday by the pool, I told you I love you and you didn’t say it back. And then we got back to the room and had really good but, let’s face it, totally dysfunctional Basic Instinct-style psycho sex. All we needed were some handcuffs and an ice pick under the pillow. But then we talked and everything was fine and we did it again in the bathroom, which was really hot, by the way. And then we did again by the mirror, which was even hotter. I so desperately want to do that again. The way you looked with your head back, and the way you moaned when you came and squirted all over me–”
“Kellan, where are you going with this?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’s just that we said I Love You but it was right after sex when things are kind of confusing. And when we went to sleep, it seemed like something was bothering you. Like you had something on your mind or you wanted to say something. So, I’m sorry I fell asleep so fast. I should’ve stayed awake and made sure you were okay. We’re supposed to be on vacation and enjoying ourselves, not losing sleep over relationship stuff. If that ever happens again, we’ll definitely talk it out before we go to sleep, okay? Even if it takes all night. So, I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
Can this be happening? He is apologizing to me?
“Kellan, I’m the one who freaked out and got all stupid and insecure and acted like a fourteen year-old girl having her first boyfriend during her freshman year of high school. I should be apologizing to you.”
“No, you don’t have to. I knew you were still upset last night but I didn’t address it. So that’s my fault. If in the future something is bothering you, however, please tell me. I like to think I’m a pretty intuitive person, but I’m certainly not a mind reader. If something is on your mind, tell me. You can say anything to me, remember? I’ll get my trench coat and my big eighties radio and I’ll play Peter Gabriel for you if you want me to, in order to convince you.”
“No, you don’t have to do that.”
“Okay. Now, is there something you need to get off your chest?”
I take a deep breath. I fidget with the bedsheet. I look out the window at the palm trees and the ocean that are still there from last night when I should’ve brought this up, because Kellan is absolutely right: if something is on my mind, I owe it to myself and to our relationship and to him to be honest about it so we can deal with it and move on, and not let it linger and fester and mess up what should’ve been a really good night’s sleep. Especially after the orgasms, and the bathroom sex, and the standing-in-front-of-a-mirror sex, and the squirting, and….
“Claire.”
I look up at Kellan. But I still feel stup
id. I need coffee.
Kellan grabs my chin and tilts my head back and looks me in the eye. “It’s okay. Just say whatever is on your mind. Just say it. Pretend you’re the only one in the room and you’re rehearsing a play or you’re practicing lines for the movie. Okay? Go.”
I merely look at him. I feel dumber than ever.
“Claire. Calire!”
“What? I feel stupid, okay?”
“Okay, there you go. You said it. Great. Well done.” He kisses me. “Now, why do you feel stupid?”
“Because…” and then it hits me. And I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud. “Because I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you do. If anything, I don’t deserve you.”
“What? How can you say that?”
“How can you say that you don’t deserve me?”
“Because you’re so much more accomplished than I am. You’re so much further ahead in life. You have money and cars and a house with a pool and your own gym and you actually own your own gym and you have all those side businesses and you have personal training clients all around the world and you travel and people pay you to fly First Class to come and meet them and attend their expos and conferences and everywhere we go people want to take a picture with you and you’re friends with celebrities and Navy SEALs, and all kinds of other craziness. I’m a failed writer who works part-time doing catering. I mean, how can I possibly compete with you? We’re so mismatched. It’s so obvious. Everyone can see it. My parents can see it. My sister can. Denise can. That waitress Brandi saw it. That’s why she said what she said in the bathroom. I mean, how can this possibly end with anything other than you married to some starlet or some fitness swimsuit CrossFit model chick and me sitting around my shitty little apartment brokenhearted knowing that loving you has left a hole in my life that will never, ever be filled again. Ever.”
“Who says it’s going to end? Look, Claire, let’s not put the cart before the horse, okay? We haven’t been going out that long, but it’s been really great. I mean, really great. I certainly want us to keep going. Do you?”
“Yes. Of course. More than anything in the world.”
“Okay then. That’s all that matters. None of that other shit, and that what it is. Pardon my French, but it is one-hundred-percent pure, unmitigated, grade-A bullshit. Okay? I don’t care what your parents say or what your sister says or what Denise says or what some well-intentioned but completely misguided overly-nosy cocktail waitress has to say. I mean, seriously. You think I got where I am in my life by listening to what anyone else says or thinks? Heck no. I got where I am by ignoring all that crap. By ignoring all the well-intentioned but totally worthless advice and criticism from everyone around me. You think anyone supported me when I was spending hours and hours in the gym, building up my body? Heck no. No one ever considered me much of an athlete. I was average at soccer, I was a decent swimmer until I got fat, I sucked at Little League, I sucked at football, and I was never very strong in the gym.”
