"Wait, Ryan."
He regarded me, confused.
"Can I try something?"
"What?" he asked interestedly, his head cocked, his eyebrows coming together.
I heard the waves crash outside.
I started, hesitantly, "Ryan, you're always Mr. In-Charge in the bedroom, but you know, I haven't really had a chance to explore your body—"
"I'm all yours," he interrupted.
I'm all yours.
He was all mine.
All mine.
Mine.
"I want to return the favor of learning your body really, really well."
"Do your worst," he said hoarsely. "Where do you want me?"
Now, I hadn't really thought this through. As bossy as he normally was, he showed me repeatedly that deep down he was a giver. He didn't take anything that wasn’t his to take. But now that he was letting me have my way with him, whatever I wanted, there was simply too much territory to choose from. I mean, with these options, where do you begin to explore? I couldn't decide where to start.
Okay, actually I could.
He stood by the bed, so I decided that I wanted him to stay there. I loved how he towered over me. I got up off of the bed, and reached for the hem of my surfer-shirt sleepwear, slowly pulling it over my head. Now I was wearing nothing but my satin, sage green panties and a smile. It was my turn to prowl. I lingered, circling him, not touching him, just looking him up and down. He was so tall, so muscular, so fine.
I decided to start my investigation at his back. He had these two attractive indentations, like dimples, in his lower back above his ass. Since he normally didn't have his back to me, I didn't often get to inspect them, and I decided that they needed a closer review. With my knuckle, I grazed one, then the other, and watched as his muscles jumped below his skin. Then I used my knuckle to gently trail up his spine, getting to know each vertebrae of his perfect back. I stopped my hand at the nape of his neck, and went up on my tiptoes. Sticking out my tongue like a point, I licked and sucked my way back down his backbone, while I feathered my hands out over his shoulder muscles, wings, and then down his lean sides to his waist. As I did this, I could feel him straining to stay still, straining to breathe, straining to keep his hands at his side, his body in check.
This turned me on.
Yeah. Understatement.
Watching this big handsome guy keep it in check for me to have my way with him made my panties fucking soaked.
As I’ve mentioned, I'm a particular fan of the inguinal ligaments that covered his hips and dipped into each side below his waist, leading to the V in the front. Now, they deserved attention. I lightly traced my fingers over his cut muscle, then reached barely inside the waistband of his low-slung board shorts, one finger on each side of his, and brought my hands together to the middle of his back, feeling the warmth of his body.
Playing with him, I lazily kept one hand just barely inside his waistband, as I moved his arm so that I could duck under it without losing the connection with his shorts, while I moved to his front. I was greeted with his erection meeting my fingers, just the tip of it. So I touched it, just a graze, and went on by, stopping at the fastening on his shorts.
My fingers traced the soft hair of his happy trail, widening my fingers out, going up, headed to his belly button.
I was sure that he thought that I was going the wrong direction.
I inserted my tongue in his navel, while following what I could see of his V with my fingers, and he groaned loudly.
Then I traced my tongue up from his belly button, paying particular attention to his washboard waist, each part of his six-pack gently defined. His breath came in ragged gasps. My hands next went to his hips, then moved inward, feeling every nook and cranny of his abdominal muscles. I made my way slowly up his torso, stopping at one nipple to suck it, and lick it, until it was hard. Then my mouth made its way to the other one, repeating the sucking, the licking, until it, too, was hard. He moaned and let out a breath, seemingly unable to keep his hands still. I reached up on my tippy toes and sucked on his neck, my hands reaching up to the top of his shoulders. My fingertips then trailed down his arms, stopping to really feel his biceps, and his sculpted forearms. And I clasped his hands, taking a step back, holding both of his hands in mine, and surveying him.
"What?" he asked, choking it out.
"You are a fine specimen of a man, Ryan Fielding."
He gave me a lopsided grin. "You're killing me, here, but it's a pretty fucking great death. Are you going to kill me now?"
"Nope. More torture first."
I let go of his hands and reached for the fastening of his shorts, undoing it, and easing them down his body, feeling his hard ass as I let it down, bending my body. His erection sprung free right by my lips.
So.
His cock.
It was beautiful, yes. It was enticing, yes. It had given me a bunch of orgasms, yes.
But I still did not feel like I knew it. Its ways were still a mystery to me.
"Ryan?"
"Yeah."
"I need to work up the nerve to, uh, you know, kiss you here."
"It's okay."
"I've never done it before."
"It's okay," he repeated. "I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not going to force you to do anything."
"I want to, I want to try, uh, well, but I'm scared."
"Amelia?"
"Yeah."
"You really are killing me now."
"Sorry. I don't mean to kill the moment. I'm trying to get over my neuroses. Are you disappointed?"
"Truth?"
"Yeah."
"I'm a guy. I always want a blow job. But I'm not going to push it on you."
"Can I try this?" I reached out and tentatively touched his cock. He shuddered and nodded, biting his lower lip.
"Fuck yeah, baby."
Again, I could hear the waves crashing outside, in and out of my consciousness.
Now, yes, I've touched a penis before. But before, it felt almost like an obligation. Something that I had to do. But with Ryan, it's something sensual that I wanted to do for him. It would give him pleasure, and for all the pleasure he gave me, I really wanted to return the favor. It also helped that his cock was astonishingly attractive. I mean, it belonged in a museum or something.
But I just couldn't do a blow job. Not yet. I didn't know why. I just … couldn't.
A hand job, though …
I touched his cock and gently stroked it up and down, first with my fingertips, noticing the vein on the underside, noticing the lip of it against the cock head, then clasping it in my hand. It was so long, I had no idea how I would ever get that thing in my mouth, if I ever decided to take him that way. But that was for another day.
He moaned again.
Moving on, I bravely took my other hand and felt his balls, gently touching them, caressing them, and this made him hiss. Then I stroked his cock, up and down, up and down, with one hand, with increasing pressure and increasing speed, and he looked down at me, eyes blazing, and growled, "Enough." He picked me up by my armpits, and threw me on the bed.
Guess he was done with me being in charge.
He tore off my panties, and fell over my body, propping himself up on his elbows, eyes on mine.
"Your turn.”
He kissed my lips hard, so hard, then went down my body with his mouth, taking one nipple in his mouth and tweaking it hard, so hard that I gasped, but the bite felt so good. And then he took the other one in his mouth, and tweaked it so that the hard suck felt oh so good and then he bit his way down my side, little nibbles that tickled, until he reached my hips. While leaning on one side of me, he took his other hand and ran it up my inner thigh to the, uh, promised land, where he found me soaking wet.
Yeah.
This whole foreplay thing seemed to work.
He figured this out, too, saying, "Fuck me, you're so wet." I wasn't going to fault him for being obvious while we were in this positio
n, and he started to stroke me with his big hands. He had his thumb pressing on my clit, his middle finger fucking me, reaching up, curving inside of me, so that I almost exploded from the pleasure. His fourth finger reached behind and up towards super naughty land.
This was what I needed.
He finger fucked me, not stopping, not taking a break, until I came. Hard.
The waves crashed outside, too.
He kept going, kept moving through my orgasm, extending it, letting me shudder and shake and convulse, until I quieted down.
But this was temporary.
"Got any more in you?" he asked, and I had no idea how to respond.
"Let's see," he said, and he kept at it, massaging my clit, massaging my g-spot, massaging that no-man's land (or no-woman's land) between my pussy and my no-go area and, confident bastard, I came again.
The waves crashed outside, too.
No, I was not complaining about two orgasms, in a row, in the morning, from my brand-new boyfriend.
My brain flooded with pleasure, but in this light room, with the sunlight streaming in, I went dark, a good kind of dark, focusing only on the sensation of release from so much build-up.
Ryan maneuvered over me to the bedside table and opened a drawer, pulling out a condom. He ripped it open, threw the wrapper on the floor, sheathed himself, and paused at the entrance of my pussy.
"I love the noise that you make when you slide into me," I whispered. "It's utter contentment. Pleasure. Heart stopping satisfaction. Like there is no place you'd rather be."
"That's because there isn't," he whispered back, and slid his cock into me.
No matter that we had done this before, it still felt exciting and special. He just filled me up, there is no other way of explaining it. It was such a rush of pleasure to have him fully seated in me, my slick pussy cradling his hard cock, his hard muscles pressed against my soft breasts. He looked down at me, shook his head with a smile, and buried his face in my neck. And then he started to move. He thrust into me, building me up, pleasure after pleasure, but then he stopped, and rolled over.
"You, on top," he ordered.
Now, this wasn't on any list of mine, as far as to do or not to do, but it still made me pause for some reason. Still neurotic, people. I was trying, okay? What to do?
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want to be an idiot, but I'm not totally sure what to do up here."
He smiled. "Okay, I'll guide you. First, pull your body up my cock, fuck yeah, like that, okay, now down, fuck."
I moved my body up and down on his, my knees to the side, my boobs jiggling.
"I feel like I'm all jiggly up here."
"That's the point. You're so fucking sexy riding me, titties bouncing, just let go. Let go," he commanded.
Okay. If he wanted to see titties bouncing, I think I could give that to him. I started to really move, to follow his order to let myself go, breasts bouncing, riding his cock, his arms snaking out and holding my soft, full breasts. It was starting to feel safe for me to be uninhibited with him. Sex was starting to feel safe. I looked down at him, and he was totally enjoying the ride.
This was fun. It was exciting to turn him on. It fucking turned me on. It was sexy. I started experimenting with different angles, different speeds, changing directions often, and staying in a particular place whenever I heard his breath speed up.
Then, suddenly, he flipped us over again, him on top, me on the bottom. He pulled back, grabbed my hips, pressing me to turn onto my stomach, and said in my ear, "Now is the time for true doggy style, babe, think you can handle it?"
"Yeah," I breathed, not able to do, say, or think anything else.
"Brace your hands against the headboard." He pulled my hips back, as I went on my knees and stretched out to the bed frame, and, frankly, for the first time in my life, I got into it. I gave him my ass, arching my back, and he thrust into me from behind.
Oh my fucking word.
This was awesome.
He thrust into me, first leaning back, and then he moved and bent over my back, his hand finding my clit, and informed me, "You're going to come again."
The thrusting, the stimulation, the angle, his orders. He kept at me, a pounding rhythm, until my vaginal muscles clenched and I let go, screaming like I had never screamed before. He massaged my clit through the orgasm, thrusting, prolonging it, then, when I was done, he thrust once, twice, three times, then bit my shoulder and collapsed into me, pressing both of us into the bed, breathing hard.
The Beach House
"FEEL IT, OH, YEAH, baby, right there. Wait for it. It's coming. Now. Go."
I gripped the front of the boogie board with all my strength, white-knuckling it, as Ryan pushed me into the wave. The ocean propelled me forward, like I was caught on a conveyor belt, and the current pushed me to the shore. I caught my first wave.
That was so much fun!
This morning, after we, um, got to know each other a little bit better, Ryan made me breakfast, and I learned why he was so good at cooking. Since he was awarded custody of his little sister, Jennifer, when she was eight, and he was an adult, for the past ten years he fed her, took her to school, got her home, and made her do her homework, along with all of the other parental tasks. All of this when he was barely an adult. He was used to it. No wonder he was so at-home in the kitchen. And no wonder he seemed more mature than me most of the time. That’s a lot of responsibility for a teenager. He had been through so much, and processed it, through surfing or whatever magic Ryan mojo he had going on, and now he was guiding me through it. Sun God therapy. His sister was away at college right now, but he said she was going to come home for Thanksgiving.
He cooked me fluffy scrambled eggs with gooey cheddar cheese, crisp bacon, buttered toast, and fresh fruit salad. We ate it leisurely, outside on his downstairs patio, watching the waves.
"Ryan, how did you get to be so, I don't know, accepting about your parents' deaths?"
"Truth?"
"Always."
"I wasn’t. I acted out, at first. Like I told you.” He shook his head “I was fucking everyone and doing a lot of unhealthy shit. I had to have therapy, too. There's no shame in it. A lot of people do it. Cleaned up my act fast, for my sister."
After breakfast, I gathered the dishes and brought them inside and felt completely out of place in his kitchen. It had appliances in it that I couldn’t identify. His coffee maker could probably serve as central command for a NASA expedition to another planet. He refused to let me do the dishes and argued with me when I tried to help. In addition to being bossy, apparently he had no problem with being domestic at all times.
Once it was done, he came over to me. "I want to show you something," he said. He walked me to a library, and pulled out a yearbook. Our yearbook, the one we were both in. Sitting side by side on the floor, we paged through it, pointing, laughing, looking at the pictures and reading the inscriptions.
When we got to the page with my photo on it, it was circled. Next to it, he had written, "Her."
"I told you," he said. "It was always you. You were the one." And he leaned over and bopped me on the nose with the tip of his finger.
Later, he asked me if I wanted to learn how to surf. Since I didn’t have a wetsuit, he let me borrow one of his sister's, which was a surprisingly good fit. Then we went out his back door to the beach.
The sand chilled our toes, but since it was October, the water was a little bit warmer than the usual year-round frigid Pacific Ocean temperatures, having been heated all summer long by currents from Mexico. Ryan informed me that since I was a "kook," meaning non-surfer, derogatory term, he was teasing me, he was going to teach me how to surf by first using boogie boards. He patiently helped me learn during the rest of the morning, and by the time we were done, I was regularly catching waves.
As we walked back to his home, hand in hand, boogie boards under our arms, we walked past the patio of his next door neighbor. He sat outside drinking a soda, and watchi
ng the goings-on. An older Hispanic man, wiry, tan, and leathery, with tattoos and a grey ponytail, he introduced himself to me as Rigo Montes. This, apparently, was Yoda.
The seaside community at Faria Beach was a mishmash of architecture. There were large modern homes, like Ryan's, and teeny-tiny weather-beaten shacks, all in the same stretch of beach. Yoda lived in one of these small beach cottages. Even though it was immediately adjacent to Ryan's mansion, the houses seemed like they belonged together and were friends. Yoda's home was just the thing for an old beach bum. I figured that he had lived there his entire life. I also liked that Ryan had someone looking out for him, since he had suffered such a huge loss.
Yoda smiled a huge smile at me, flashing a gold tooth, and immediately informed me, "I've known this guy here all his life. We've been neighbors all our lives. And I've never heard him talk about a woman the way he talks about you. It's nice to finally meet you, Amelia."
So, Ryan talked about me to his neighbor-guru. That made me feel warm in a way that tingled my fingers and toes. Sun God warmth. He steered me away before Yoda could say anything more. I got the idea that Yoda told it like it was, and wasn't afraid of potentially embarrassing anyone. We walked back into Ryan's home.
"Wanna get cleaned up?"
"I don't have any clean clothes here," I answered.
"You don't need clothes today."
I just looked at him.
He smiled, all faux-innocent, then relented. "I'll let you borrow something of mine. Okay? C'mon, let's go take a shower." Oh boy. The two-person shower. I was looking forward to that.
The thing about a shower with Ryan, was that it involved a wet, naked Ryan, and well, some things are best kept to yourself.
Just kidding. I'll give a few hints.
I gave him shit about having a double-headed shower in California, with all of our emergency drought restrictions and long-standing history of water law issues, due to our desert and quasi-desert environment. I included a detailed discussion of the controversy surrounding engineer William Mulholland's role in the 1928 St. Francis dam disaster, the legal wars over the Owens Valley water project, and the ecological damage of the Colorado River Storage Project.
The Sun and the Moon (Giving You ... #1) Page 13
