The Boyfriend Experience

by JA Huss

  She’s got the belt unbuckled and the button on my jeans popped. The zipper is down and her hand is pressed up against me, massaging my cock as I ponder this quick change of events.

  I shouldn’t think about it. I should just let all the rambling thoughts in my head go and concentrate on the here and now. Just enjoy it.

  But I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not a go-with-the-flow person. At all. I was thinking about tomorrow yesterday and now it’s completely different. Because tomorrow I’ll wake up here, or alone in my own place, and I’ll have to deal with the consequences. There’s gonna be those awkward silences as we both remember what we did. There’s gonna be some kind of wall between us now. Distance. Uncomfortable distance.

  But she kisses me again. And even though I’ve felt two ways about her kisses already, it’s different this time as well. It’s not soft, it’s not demanding, it’s… a lead into something else.

  The problem is I don’t have a clue what that something else is and it’s going to drive me crazy.

  “You’re driving me crazy,” I say unexpectedly.

  She scoots herself up closer to me so her breasts are pressing into my chest. Her hand is still between us, but she’s lifting up her skirt and—I think—playing with herself.

  “I’m driving me crazy too.” She laughs.

  “Are you sure—”

  “Yes.”

  So I stand up, grabbing her ass to keep her body close, and she automatically wraps her legs around my middle. I want to take her upstairs but I don’t really know where her bedroom is and looking for it would kill the mood. So I just reposition her on one of the long ends of the u-shaped couch and ease her back until her legs stop gripping my waist and she lets herself lie back.

  I place one hand on each of her knees and go for it. Just open them up as she lifts her skirt out of the way and pulls her panties aside, and go for it.

  I’m on my knees, my head positioned, my mouth salivating at the thought of licking her. She repositions so her back is pressed into the cushions and her legs are wide open, and one of her hands is on my head—not guiding me, exactly. But urging me.

  I don’t need the urging. My tongue flicks against her folds, making her moan and wiggle a little. And I take over the job of keeping her panties pushed aside so she is free to do whatever she wants with that hand.

  She slides it along my neck, softly dragging her long fingernails across my skin, and these light, feather touches make my whole body prickle up with a chill of pleasure.

  Both of my hands reach up and grab her breasts, squeezing them as I lick her, searching for the spot that will make her moan.

  “He can make me come in seconds if he wants,” she says. “Or he can drag it out of me slowly, over an entire night.”

  Her words about what makes a perfect boyfriend.

  One hand releases her breast and slides down, brushing across her t-shirt bedazzled in gemstones until I have one finger pressing against the entrance of her pussy.

  She’s wet down there. Just like her mouth was wet when we kissed. And when I push the tip of my finger inside her just a few centimeters, just enough to part her folds of sweet-smelling flesh, she arches her back and begins to breathe heavy. Her chest rises and falls, the air spilling out of her mouth in ragged gasps, like I really could make her come in seconds.

  But I don’t want to.

  I decide to drag it out slowly.

  CHAPTER NINE - OAKLEE

  My God, he feels good. His tongue does magical things to me. His finger is gentle as it probes my inner depths. Maybe too gentle. I can feel the climax just waiting. Just hanging out, sitting on the edge of a hundred-foot drop, waiting for him to push me off.

  But he doesn’t.

  Oh, his tongue never stops and his finger keeps pressing. But he won’t let it enter me deeply. His tongue always misses my clit, and I know—I just know—he’s doing that on purpose. Lawton is a man who knows his way around a woman, I can tell. He knows exactly where my hot buttons are.

  “More,” I say. “I want more.”

  But he doesn’t answer me. Doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Doesn’t make even the slightest change in his movements.

  It’s torture with a side of bliss.

  It’s delightful suffering.

  It’s playful agony.

  And I don’t think I can take it. I don’t think he’s going for making me come in seconds and that’s what I want right now. He’s going to drag it out of me slowly just because he can.

  “Lawton,” I groan. “Come on…”

  But he just keeps licking. Just keeps pressing. His tongue deliberately missing the one place I want it so desperately to touch. His finger just deep enough inside me so I know what he could do, always holding back and never giving me what he should do.

  “You’re teasing me.”

  Which makes him laugh. The slight puff of air that escapes his mouth is like a vibrator set on the slowest speed.

  I grab his hair and press his face into me. I grind my hips, searching for a way to make him slip. Make him relent and give me what I need.

  But he pulls back. Withdraws his finger.

  I stare at him, aghast. “What are you doing?”

  The mischievous smile should be enough, but he takes it one step further and confirms my suspicions. “Taking my time.”

  My breathing is heavy and quick, my mind spinning and a bit dizzy. My eyes want to close and I want him to go back to licking me, but he stands up.

  “More,” I say, whispering the words.

  “Oh, you’re gonna get more, Oaklee. Much more.”

  He kicks off his shoes and pulls his t-shirt over his head.

  I watch, transfixed by his perfectly muscled chest. And then he drags his jeans down his legs, kicks them aside, and just… stands there.

  Moonlight is shining through the windows of my penthouse. Illuminating him on one side, keeping him cast in shadow on the other.

  He is Adonis. He is David. He is perfection.

  His cock is long and hard, lying against his thigh. The tip round and the shaft fat. He is fully erect. Ready for me.

  So why won’t he just take me?

  “Take me,” I beg.

  He just shakes his head no.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  He says nothing. Just sits down on the couch and pats his thigh. A come-hither gesture. A sit-on-my-lap invitation.

  I don’t even hesitate. Just stand up, walk the few steps that separate us, and sit down on his lap again, pressing my pussy against his cock to try to entice him into giving in.

  “Whoa there, cowgirl,” he says, his eyes still twinkling with mischief. “We’re not quite ready for that yet.”

  How? I ask myself. How can he be so calm and in control and ready to go slow when all I want is for him to fuck me hard and make me come?

  How could we be so different?

  “Take off the jacket, please.”

  I huff out a laugh. But I have that thing off in two seconds.

  “Good,” he says, playing with my hair. “Now the shirt.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere, I want to say back. But I don’t. Because I don’t think he wants me to be playful. I don’t think he wants me to do anything but listen to him and do exactly what he says.

  So I grab the hem of my t-shirt and lift it up over my head, my breasts rising as I do it. I toss it aside, expecting him to be looking at my breasts and the way they want to spill out of my sexy demi bra, but he’s not. He’s looking me in the eyes when I find his gaze.

  “Take it off,” he says.

  My bra, obviously. So I reach around, unclasp the hooks, and the tension of the elastic eases, letting my breasts fall out of their tight constraint.

  I feel like I can’t breathe. He’s watching me, still not looking at my breasts. But he’s got a small smile creeping up his face. Like this is going exactly the way he planned.

  I shrug out of the bra and let it fall to the floor, unconscious
ly pressing my breasts together with my upper arms.

  My nipples are tight, the soft skin stretched as they peak up.

  “Play with them, Oaklee,” he says. “I want to watch you play with them.”

  Good God. I feel wetness pooling between my legs.

  It’s weird being controlled like this. Because even though he’s telling me what he wants and what he wants me to do, I feel like I’m giving it up freely.

  I play with them. They’re not huge by any means. But they are ample. The size of small melons. I massage them with my palms, then tweak each nipple, pinching myself hard enough to make me wince.

  How? How is he making me do this?

  “Are you multi-orgasmic?” he asks, still not looking at my breasts, only my eyes.

  I shrug. “I don’t think so. I dunno. I’ve never had that kind of experience before. I’ve never had this kind of experience before.”

  “Do you want me to show you?” he asks.

  “Show me?” I ask back.

  “How to become multi-orgasmic?”

  I nod. Because I would like that very much. So I say, “Yes. Show me how.”

  CHAPTER TEN - LAWTON

  I say, “I’m going to rip your panties now,” just as the ripping sound fills the room. She gasps, but I keep watching her eyes. “They were in my way,” I add, by way of explanation.

  “OK,” she replies, two seconds too late to object.

  “Now put me inside you.”

  I can almost hear her heartbeat as the words come out of my mouth. She lags two seconds behind again, my command running through her mind, searching for meaning.

  The meaning comes later. There’s no rush.

  She must agree because she lifts up her hips, reaches for my cock, and wraps her hand around it. I watch her. My eyes never leave hers as she pumps it a few times, consumed by the urge to feel me.

  “Stay focused, Oaklee,” I say. A gentle reminder that she takes seriously because she draws in a deep breath and presses the tip of my cock up against her wet folds. “Now sink down. Put me fully inside you. And then hold still.”

  “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  I let myself laugh a little at that. “No,” I say. “Not at all. I’m trying to make you feel what you deserve to feel when you give yourself to a man. That’s all.”

  “That’s all,” she says. But not like a question. She swallows hard, places her hands on both of my shoulders, and sinks down just like I asked her to.

  Her eyes close and this might be the best moment of the whole day. Watching her feel pleasure as she buries my cock inside her pussy.

  When her thighs are flat against mine she opens her eyes again, staying still like I asked. “Now what?”

  “Now play with your breasts again. And Oaklee?”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Enjoy it.”

  She lets out a long breath of air with her smile and says, “Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that.”

  As she begins to massage her breasts once more I slip a hand underneath her flirty skirt and find her clit, my thumb skimming over it as she holds her breath and stops what she’s doing.

  “Don’t stop,” I say. “I’m showing you how it’s done, remember?”

  “Mmmhmm,” she whimpers. “OK.” And then resumes playing with her breasts.

  “Harder,” I say. Which she misinterprets and begins to rock her hips back and forth, so I grab a hold of her hip bone and still her as I say, “No, squeeze your tits harder, Oaklee. But stay still until I let you fuck me.”

  “Jesus, Lawton. What are you doing to me?” But she laughs, and I like the laugh, so I laugh too.

  “Trust me. You’re gonna thank me in a little bit.” And then I get back to business. My thumb continues to stimulate her clit as I watch her squeeze her tits. She closes her eyes once again and I consider that a win. “Do you like it?” I ask. “Does it feel good?”

  “Yes,” she moans. “I like it very much.”

  “Then squeeze harder. Feel me, feel yourself, and when you’re ready, come for me, Oaklee.”

  She goes still. Rigid, almost. And in seconds her mouth opens, her eyelids flutter, and her thighs tighten against my legs as she squeezes my cock with her pussy, spilling her release all down my shaft.

  I stop rubbing her clit and let her enjoy it. Let the contractions pulsing against my cock slow down, then finally stop.

  “I thought you’d last a little longer.” I chuckle.

  “Can’t help it,” she says. Her body melts. Practically collapses forward against my chest. Her heart thumping against mine, her breath slowing down, all the while my cock stays inside her, hard and ready for more.

  “We’re not done. Are you ready for more?”

  “I think I might fall asleep.” She says this lazily, her words slurring a little. But she’s not drunk on alcohol. She’s drunk on me.

  “You won’t fall asleep.”

  I grab her shoulders, gently push her backward until she’s sitting on top of me again, and lift her head up with a finger under her chin. “Look at me,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and smiles.

  “Now put your hands flat on my chest like this,” I say, placing her palms down on each of my pecs. “And fuck me.”

  All her body weight is pushing down on my chest, her tits swaying as she begins to move. I grab them both, straighten her up so the inevitable arch in her back can form, and begin to squeeze her tits the way she just was a few moments ago.

  I squeeze them hard. Full-handed one moment, then pinch her nipples the next.

  “Go as fast or as slow as you like, Oaklee. Just feel us and forget the rest. Forget all about wanting to come again. Forget about the doubts you have about doing that. Just feel me squeeze you, and fuck me.”

  Her skin prickles with a chill exactly the way mine did earlier.

  And she does all that. She lets go. She gives in.

  She starts moving her lower body. Starts drawing her hips up and down, coating my cock with her own climax, and all the while I’m squeezing her tits so hard, she should be screaming.

  But she’s not screaming. She’s moaning. Her hands leave my chest and grab onto my shoulders as her spine buckles outward, then arches inward. This makes me slip just a little bit deeper inside her. Just enough for the tip of my cock to touch her A-spot.

  Her body convulses and she gasps, almost as if surprised. Her soft moans become louder as I squeeze her tits harder and harder and harder still, until I’m sure she will have fingerprints on her skin in the morning.

  She probably knows this too, but she doesn’t care. The only thing she cares about is the way she suddenly feels.

  And that’s when she comes again.

  This time she grits her teeth and closes her eyes tight. A look that lands somewhere between pain and pleasure.

  I continue to fondle her breasts, softer now, because I want her to enjoy the aftereffects of her orgasm. But also so she can recover. Be ready for more.

  Because there’s more. Much more.

  “Holy shit,” she mumbles, dropping forward onto my chest. Her head resting on my shoulder. “Damn, Lawton. I’ve never come three times in a row before.”

  “Twice?” I laugh. “We’re not done yet.”

  She lifts her head up a little so she can look at me. “Is it your turn now? Should I give back?”

  Her wicked smile tells me exactly what she thinks “giving back” means. “I’ll get there, don’t worry. And while your offer is appreciated, my cock is very happy inside your pussy. Tonight is about you. Next time—if there is a next time—it can be about me if you want.”

  “If?” She chuckles.

  I shrug. “Life doesn’t come with a guarantee. I know that better than most.”

  “Hmmm,” she says.

  “But enough of the talk. Are you ready to go again?”

  “Again.” She says it almost like a question. “Three times. I dunno if that’s possible.”


  “Oh, it is.”

  She looks at me, blushes a bright pink—which looks good on her bronze skin—and shrugs. “OK. But I’m warning you, the next time won’t be that easy.”

  I stand up, taking her with me once again. And this is starting to feel like a familiar move between us, because her legs automatically wrap around my middle. Then I turn her around and place her on the couch. “Turn around,” I say. “Put your hands right here.” I pat the back of the couch. “And your knees right here.” Indicating the cushion she’s sitting on.

  She smiles big. Blushing again.

  I decide I like her. I think she’s capable of a lot of things. Has a lot of ideas. Most of them probably borderline crazy because of this weird obsession she has with Hanna Harlow. But Oaklee Ryan is one of those fun girls. The kind who keep you on your toes. The kind who make bad decisions based on emotion. The kind who probably make very bad exes because they end up doing psycho things like showing up at your work and texting you forty-seven times in one hour.

  But all that makes it exciting, right? And if we get this TV deal, who knows. Maybe we’ll never be ex-anything. Maybe we’ll be friends, or lovers, or business partners forever.

  She maneuvers herself into the position I want, placing her hands on the back of the couch and her ass directly in front of me.

  “Nice tattoo,” I say, noticing it for the first time.

  She looks at me over her shoulder and whispers, “Thank you.”

  Its lettering spans the entire space between her shoulder blades. Not big and gaudy, like a gang tattoo. But small and feminine in script handwriting.

  I lean over to read it out loud. “‘The world worships the original.’ Who said that?”

  “Ingrid Bergman,” Oaklee says. “It’s supposed to say, ‘Be yourself. The world worships the original.’ But I think that first part goes without saying, so I left it unsaid.”

  “Words to live by.”

  “As I do,” she quips back, smiling at me.

  I position myself close to her. Letting my cock slip between her ass cheeks as I move in a slow, back-and-forth motion.