by Lisa Ferrari
“You really like it? Really?” he asks. “Because there’s no greater turn-off than when a girl doesn’t like your stuff.”
“I love it.” I press my lips to the side of his erect penis and give it a long, long kiss. I look up at him and smile.
I decide to go for it.
I stand up slowly out of the water, onto the step, so I’m knee-deep, and put my hands on my hips and merely stand there, allowing him to look at me. His eyes travel up and down my entire body, from my breasts down to my stomach and legs, then back up again.
Kellan begins stroking himself.
Stroking his cock.
I become fixated by the action.
God it’s huge.
He stops suddenly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”
“It’s okay. I like it. Keep going.”
Kellan resumes stroking himself. He reaches out with his other hand and caresses my body and breasts and stomach.
“Can I see…” he begins.
“What?”
“Would you mind turning around one time?”
My first thought is fear and dread and Heck no!
But I see Kellan’s eyes darting all over my body, his hand lightly stroking his erection, which I’m not sure but seems to be getting even bigger.
I turn slowly in place. I turn sideways and pause, allowing him to savor what he sees. His eyes dart all about, caressing me. He’s really stroking himself now.
His mouth is open.
He’s breathing heavily.
He’s completely entranced, lost in this moment.
It makes me feel good.
I shift my hip and turn my shoulders toward him, and slide my hands over my body, pausing to cup my breasts, trying to be sexy the way an exotic dancer might.
I turn away from him so he can get a good view of my behind. I look over my shoulder. “Like what you see?”
Kellan doesn’t even answer me, he’s so focused.
I do another quarter turn, allowing myself to be on full display for this man, and finally I face him once again.
His penis is definitely bigger than it was 30 seconds ago.
This is fun.
He stops touching himself suddenly.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just don’t want to come yet.”
“Were you about to?”
“Yes.”
This gives me butterflies.
I saw Tommy Warcraft ejaculate once. Every other time it was in my mouth and throat, and his semen was bitter and reminded me of Clorox bleach. The vast quantities of beer and Taco Bell, perhaps.
Kellan eats clean and trains his ass off every day and drinks a gallon of water each time he works out. What would he taste like?
This gives me an idea. “How close?”
“Very close. I’m trying not to move.”
I sit beside him on the deck, with one leg behind him and the other draped over his, our feet dangling in the warm, bubbling, color-shifting water.
I begin stroking him very lightly, very slowly.
Kellan’s breath hitches, followed by a moan. His eyes are cast down, watching my hand caressing him.
In the red light I can see more details of his penis, the veins on the shaft. It’s very sexy.
I slide one arm around his neck and put my tongue in his ear. His head goes back and his eyes close; he really likes that.
“Come for me,” I purr, and I begin jerking him. Really jerking him. I worry for an instant that I’m doing it too hard but then I remember what he said about pressure, and the way he was doing it to himself looked pretty rough.
Kellan opens his eyes and stares back at me.
“Come for me, Kellan.”
The music and the bubbles and all sounds fade away as we stare into each other’s eyes.
I pump my hand up and down his magnificent, beautiful penis, praying in the back of my mind that I’m doing it correctly, the way he likes it, better than anyone else has ever done it.
Kellan reaches up and lightly caresses the back of my head, stroking my hair. He pulls me closer. We kiss, pressing our lips and tongues together, our eyes open, gazing at one another.
I’m lost in those eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. In the red pool light they appear purple.
“Oh God, Claire…” Kellan murmurs against my lips. “You’re going to make me come.”
His body tenses. His chest muscles flex and striations appear. His abs flex, a perfect eight-pack.
“I’m coming…” he whispers, his eyes still fixed on mine.
His body spasms, he cries out, and I feel something hot and slippery on my hand.
We look down together and long, thick ropes of semen are erupting from the head of his cock. It goes everywhere; on his chest, on his stomach, on my leg, on my arm. Wow….
I stroke him until his body relaxes and he resumes breathing, and I slow down gradually, trying to match the intensity with his waning desire, letting him ride the gentle wave of his orgasm.
Down…
Down…
Down….
When he’s done, he looks at me. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“That was without a doubt one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. Oh my God, Claire. You’re a natural. Come here.”
He grabs my head and my face and kisses me, a long, firm kiss on the lips. “We have to do you now.”
Me? Oh…. Uh…. I’m suddenly a bit apprehensive. The only times I’ve had orgasms with guys was in the dark when they couldn’t see my face.
Kellan continues kissing me.
His hand slides down between my legs.
His fingers caress my opening.
My apprehension vanishes.
Oh wow…. I want him inside me.
Kellan rubs my clit with his moistened, slippery fingers. Up and down and in little circles. Slowly at first, then faster.
Just as I’m getting close, he moves down to my vagina again and eases one of his fingers inside me. He has big hands, and long, strong, thick fingers, developed through years and years of lifting heavy weights. But he’s so, so gentle. It’s incredible. The last man who had his fingers down there was my gynecologist Dr. Adair and he was trying to find my ovaries and it was not fun.
This…oh, wow…this is wholly different. This is exquisite.
Kellan slides his finger in and out of me, faster, and massages my clit with his thumb. Double stimulation. Mmm….
THIS is heaven.
“Do you like that?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper against my cheek. He still smells nicely of cinnamon; where is he getting the cinnamon?
I look into his eyes and feel afraid suddenly; vulnerable. I nod; yes I like it.
Kellan kisses me. His tongue slides slowly into my mouth. His other hand caresses the back of my head.
He pulls back and slides one arm around me, supporting me, pulling me close. Holding me. “Come for me, Claire.”
The pleasure builds and builds without my even trying.
All at once I’m over the top and it’s happening. I’m not sure when was the last time a guy brought me to orgasm but it’s happening now. Effortlessly.
I reach out and seize Kellan by the back of his arms and shoulders, holding on to him as my body shudders uncontrollably. I’m making funny noises, little intermittent moans and gasps. I can’t breathe. I’m coming so hard I can’t breathe. My vagina is clamped around Kellan’s finger, the middle one I think, and his thumb is still working my clitoris up and down, just the way I like it.
At last it begins to subside. I gasp and swallow and breathe. Breathe. Breathe….
I hold on to him.
Kellan holds me close.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me.
Oh God, did I look stupid? Did I make a stupid face? What was that 80s movie where James Spader says, ‘You make a stupid face when you come.’? Oh! Sex, Lies, and Vide
otape. Which, come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever actually seen, certainly not all the way through from beginning to end and wasn’t it Andrew McCarthy– oh, wait, maybe it was Less Than Zero…
FOCUS, Claire!
I look up at Kellan; he’s smiling. Broadly.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just…that was so hot. Was it good? Did I do it right? The way you like?”
“Oh, yeah. You did it right.”
Lord. I’m jelly. What a release. And he was so gentle. How can a man who can lift 500 pounds be so gentle?
Kellan gathers me into his arms and lowers us both into the hot water, where he holds me. My legs are rubbery, the muscles on the insides of my thighs spasming a little. “Nights in White Satin” is playing on the sound system from hidden speakers I still haven’t been able to locate. Maybe it’s one of the big rocks next to the spa; I’ve seen speakers designed to look like small boulders.
Kellan gently strokes my hair.
I am completely relaxed, supported by his enormous, muscular body. I feel myself growing sleepy.
Come what may, I think this may be the happiest I’ve ever been.
I AWAKEN SOME time later.
No idea when, of course. But I was definitely asleep.
I’m still in the warm, bubbling spa, reclining on Kellan like he’s the ultimate human La-Z-Boy.
Kellan is munching a protein bar. I hear the foil wrapper crinkling above my head.
“Did my chewing wake you?” he asks.
“No. Where did you get that?”
“The rock is a cooler.” He opens the small boulder to reveal bottles of water and protein bars and almonds.
“You want a bite?” He holds the bar out and pulls down the wrapper for me and I take a bite. It’s so sweet when he offers me his food.
And I see it’s literally his bar. His picture is on the wrapper, with him flexing a bicep, along with his signature. He flattens the wrapper and I read what it says. “ ‘Signature Protein Bar. No artificial crap. Just good stuff. Mint Chocolate Chip. Forty-five Grams of Protein. Zero Carbs. Zero fat. Sweetened with Stevia.’ That’s good copy. And it’s friggin delicious.”
“You like it?”
“Yes. Where can I get these?”
“From my online store. Stacy sells them at her clinic too. But Whole Foods is probably your best bet.”
“They sell these in Whole Foods?”
“Yep. They’re really good about working with small, independent producers. I got the idea one night while I was doing cardio and watching Shark Tank. I saw a 10-year-old girl who makes lemonade get a deal with them.”
“Cool.” I have another inkling of the size of Kellan’s empire.
“This bar is yummy,” he says, “but we need real food. Shall we go inside? I have all kinds of stuff in the fridge.”
“Okay.”
Kellan gets out, wraps a towel around his waist, then grabs another one for me. I stand up and he swaddles me in it. Then puts another one around my body, covering me.
We go inside and Kellan whips us up a delicious feast. He weighs everything on a digital food scale.
“Do you always weigh your food?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Do you keep track of the dollars and cents going into and out of your bank accounts?”
“Honestly, not really. But I know you’re supposed to.”
“Why?”
“Because you have to.”
“Exactly. You keep track of your money, why wouldn’t you keep track of the calories and macros going into your body?”
“What are macros?”
“A fancy word for grams of carbs, protein, and fat. Weighing is important when the difference between maintaining your weight and losing weight can be as little as a few hundred calories. It can be tough to eyeball a few hundred calories, especially when it comes to calorie-dense foods like nuts or peanut butter or chocolate or olive oil.”
“So you should avoid fats?”
“Not at all. Fats are good for you. Your cells are surrounded by a phospholipid membrane. Lipid. Lipids are fats. Your body needs fats. The right kind of fats. Olive oil, yes; bacon, no. There have been enough studies done now showing the effects of long-term protein-and-fat diets versus carbohydrate-rich diets. Especially for people who want to shift their body composition and shed body fat while maintaining as much lean muscle mass as possible.”
“Are you a nutritionist?”
“Not legally. It’s mostly bro-science.”
“What’s bro-science?”
“The science of fitness and bodybuilding and nutrition as espoused by bro’s who have figured out what works through weeks and months and years of trial and error in the kitchen and in the gym. Remember, abs are made in the kitchen.”
“They are?”
“Well, sort of. It’s a combination of clean food, caloric deficit, training your ass off, and consistency over time. But it’s a nice little expression that reminds us that eating right is as important as being active. You can have the best, strongest abs in the world but if your body composition is wrong, you’ll never be able to see them. Let’s eat.”
We sit together, side by side, on comfortable padded barstools at the kitchen island. I am amazed at how good the food is. “Are you sure this is healthy?”
“Of course. Why?”
“It’s so delicious. What is it?”
“Salmon, obviously, that I marinated in lemon juice and stevia and then grilled; quinoa with sautéed onions and sundried tomatoes; a sweet potato with cinnamon; and some broccoli that was also marinated in lemon and stevia.”
“It’s so good. It tastes like restaurant food. Like a really expensive restaurant somewhere in San Francisco, with cloth napkins and a view of the bay and guys in white coats who scrape the crumbs off your table and fold your napkin for you when you go to the bathroom.”
“Like the Cliffhouse?”
“Yeah! I went there once about ten years ago.”
“Me, too. Want to go sometime? Spend a couple of nights in San Francisco at a nice hotel? It can be one of those wild adventures you can tell Denise about.”
I practically orgasm again imagining what Kellan and I would do to one another in such a hotel over the entire course of such a weekend. “Okay.”
We finish eating and go sit on the sofa.
I ask to watch Conan the Barbarian again, but this time I make Kellan promise to stay awake so we can talk about it.
He says he’d love to.
The movie begins and I suddenly realize we’re both naked and wearing only towels, which are the most amazing, big, fluffy, soft, white towels I’ve ever seen. We’re wearing only towels yet I feel perfectly comfortable.
Kellan looks freakin perfect. As always. All tanned and ripped and gorgeous.
I want to lick his abs.
He catches me looking at them and smiles but doesn’t say anything.
When the sex scene with the witch in her hut comes on, we both get excited. We watch it together in rapt silence.
I ask Kellan to skip back two minutes so we can watch it again. He cues it up and freezes it. He turns down the lights and turns on the gas fireplace. Orange flames leap up and I can feel the gentle warmth. The living room now looks a bit like the witch’s hut. All we need are some fur rugs on the floor.
I’m pretty sure I can see Kellan’s erection under his white towel.
I feel myself getting excited, too, all slippery and hot down there.
Kellan leans close and we start kissing.
I run my hands all over his chest and abs, then my nails, scratching him a bit, like the sexy naked witch woman in the movie.
Kellan clearly likes it.
In a moment of brazen bravery, I unwrap Kellan’s towel and open it, revealing his huge erection.
OMG
OMG
OMG
OMG
Focus!
I suck on Kellan’s nipples, fi
rst one and then the other.
He cries out.
Ooh, he really likes that. I was never certain if guys liked it when a girl sucked on their nipples; it has that whole mother’s milk connotation. “Mother’s Milk” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. That album came out in… 1990? Something like that.
Focus, Claire!
I concentrate on feeling Kellan’s soft, nubby nipple with my tongue, on sealing my lips around it and sucking it into my mouth.
Kellan moans, watching me suck on his nipple. He smooths one of his big, strong hands over my hair and runs the other hand up and down my back and over my legs and ass.
I scoot down onto my knees in front of him and start licking his abs like I wanted to do earlier; licking them like they’re a wooden spoon covered in brownie mix. I could so eat brownie mix off his naked body.
Kellan watches me sliding my flattened tongue all over his abs. His hands caress my body. His breathing gets heavier.
And oh wow his erection is… flexing. Moving up and down, straining, flexing each time I lick his abs. I’ve never seen anything like that before. Certainly not in real life.
Without touching it, I slide my mouth down his stomach, down his abdomen. I hover my open mouth over his penis, making my way to his inner thighs, which I kiss and lick.
I slowly get closer to his balls. I lick his scrotum with the tip of my tongue. I wish there was a better name for it. Scrotum is so clinical. But as I lick it and slowly suck it into my mouth, Kellan goes berserk gasping and breathing heavily, his entire body beginning to writhe. He really likes it. Maybe it’s because they’re so sensitive and delicate.
I work my mouth up to the base of his erection and start to suck. I slide my lips up and down the shaft, sideways, like it’s corn on the cob no that’s not sexy. Like a popsicle, a Christian Grey-flavored–
Focus, Claire!
A Kellan Kearns-flavored popsicle.
Kellan is practically coming off the sofa. Either it’s been awhile since a woman pleasured him orally or he really likes fellatio.
What red-blooded man doesn’t, genius?
Or…and this is a groundbreaking concept, perhaps it’s me; perhaps he’s responding this way, with this degree of enthusiasm, because I’m the one down on my knees, about to take his penis into my throat, and he likes the way I am doing it.
