by KD Robichaux
“Put the orgasm completely out of your mind, and what are you left with when touching yourself? What is the purpose?” I prompt.
She swallows thickly, her cheeks turning pink. “Um… to feel pleasure. To soothe an ache there when I’m aroused.”
“Very good, and what is one’s automatic reaction when wanting to soothe an ache? And not just the one between our legs. You hit your elbow, what do you do?” I ask.
Her eyes closed, she reaches with her right hand and holds her left elbow that rests on the other side of her. “You rub it. You hold it and massage it until it feels better,” she murmurs.
“Right. You don’t attack it with something that’s going to make the feeling more intense, do you? You ease that ache.” I sniff a quick laugh. “Well, unless you’re into that kind of thing, but for the sake of what I’m teaching you, I’m sure you understand.”
She smiles again, and she nods, resting her right hand back on her stomach.
“So I want you to stop thinking of this as learning the fastest way to get off, and think of it more like learning the stimulations that make you feel good, that soothe you. And as I said, a woman’s orgasm begins in her mind, so if you don’t have your mind right, it’s never going to come.” I tap her hip. “Undress yourself. For this first time, you’re going to learn to treat yourself, to make love to yourself, not just give yourself a quickie with your clothes still on.”
She breathes out a long breath, and then she hooks her thumbs in her pajama shorts and pulls them all the way off. I lean back a little so she can sit up and take off her tank top, and then she falls back on her pillow, her knees coming together and up to hide her center, and her right arm crossing over her breasts as she grips her left bicep.
The Dom in me rears up swiftly, wanting to order her to bare herself to me, to stop hiding and show me what’s mine. But I rein him in, forcing myself to remember this isn’t about me right now. This is about Astrid. So I take just the top sheet and pull it up over her body, leaving the comforter down by the foot of the bed. Her eyes pop open, and seeing my gentle smile, she relaxes once again, and her knees lower slightly.
“Now, don’t just go straight for your pussy.” Her cheeks flare but I continue. “You need to work up to that. Think about stimulating your entire body, waking it up and getting it warm.”
“But that’s what happens when I read, Neil. My entire body comes to life and I need the relief,” she says, a tinge of desperation still in her tone.
I lean down to speak low right next to her ear. “If you were lying here reading your book and wanted me to make love to you in order to give you relief, would you want me to automatically thrust my cock into your pussy, or would you want me stimulate you first, kiss you, stroke your skin, test how wet you are to see if you’re ready for me, tease other parts of your body first?” I ask, my beard tickling the skin of her neck, and she shivers, her nipples going hard beneath the thin sheet.
“Touché,” she murmurs, and I grin.
“So that’s what I want you to do, goddess. Stroke your skin, tease yourself, make yourself want your hand as badly as you’d want someone else’s,” I encourage, and she tentatively starts moving her hand along her belly. I tuck the sheet under her left bicep to hold it in place so it doesn’t uncover her with her movements. “And while you’re doing that, in your mind, you can picture whoever you want to be doing it.”
She smirks. “Shia LaBeouf,” she whispers.
I grunt in disapproval. “Or, you can think about the things we talked about before… when I was eating your sweet pussy,” I rumble, and she gasps as she traces across her nipple. “Good girl,” I add when I see her legs part. The part of her chest still visible above the sheet has flushed red, her arousal clear, and her lips part as she focuses more attention on her tits.
I keep urging her on, seeing she likes me talking her through it, keeping my voice low and sensual. “Play with your breasts, not just your nipples but the full curve at the bottom. There are so many deliciously little nerve endings to awaken there. And learn what kind of touch you like. The barest graze of your fingertips, a tight massaging grip, the sharp scratch of fingernails. And it’s an automatic response. The moment you feel something you like, you can do it again and again. And the second you realize you don’t prefer something, you stop. There is no verbally telling your partner you like or don’t like it. There is no subtle turn toward or away from their touch to give them a nonverbal hint. It’s only you, and you have the power to make yourself feel so fucking good.”
I’ve said all of this before, a countless number of times with my patients. It’s always in my office, teaching women to masturbate and counseling men on how to either teach their own partners how to touch themselves or to do it for them. It’s always very clinical, my doctor mask on, my voice even while giving my instructions, using only the medical terms for genitalia.
But nothing will ever compare to giving the same lesson I’ve taught a thousand times to the goddess before me. Talking her through how to stroke her flesh, feeling the instinctual movement of her hips as she truly begins to enjoy herself, watching the play of emotions over her face as she discovers things she really likes, her eyes closed gently now instead of pinched, and I can see the movement of her eyes beneath her lids as she watches whatever reel she’s playing in her mind to amplify her pleasure.
When her face turns toward me, her eyes still closed and her hips beginning to rock every time her fingertips trail down to circle her belly button then up around her nipple, and then back down once again, I move even closer so she can breathe me in. She turns her head even farther, burying her face against my left shoulder that rests on the bed, which puts her left ear right by my lips.
“And when you’re ready, goddess, you can slowly reach down between your legs to test and see how wet you’ve made yourself by awakening the rest of your body. Part your thighs, give your hand room to slip your finger down your center, over your clit, and dip just your fingertip inside,” I murmur, and then I dip my chin to watch her hand slide past her belly button and over her mound. A moment later, she gasps against my shoulder, and her ass presses into the mattress. “What do you feel?” I ask, my voice rougher than it was just seconds before.
“I’m soaked,” she admits on a whimper, and I have to fist the sheet in my right hand not to see for myself.
“So good, baby. That’s so good.” She nods against me, snuggling her head closer to hide her face. But she continues to do what I instruct, so I’ll allow her to do so. “Now just like you did to the rest of your body, I want you to explore your pussy. Not just your clit, not just your hole, but everything. Feel the different textures of skin. Feel the plumpness of your outer lips. Tease yourself. Drive yourself into a state of need by denying direct contact with your clit.”
She follows my demands like a good little sub, and I have to remind myself she’s my student right now, my woman who’s learning a valuable life skill from me, not my submissive to carry out my biddings.
Her knees can’t stay still as she involuntarily relaxes then tightens her thighs around her hand, discovering the feelings she likes as before. Her hips grind sexily against our bed, and as she entices herself, coaxing her fingers closer to her hole or to give in and stroke her clit, she’s seducing me as well, and I reach down beneath the sheet to grasp my aching cock.
Moments later, she’s panting for breath, and my heart thunders in my chest as she begs me, “Please, can I give in now?”
And against her ear, I whisper, “That’s the glory of self-pleasure, goddess. You give in when you want. Make yourself feel good, baby.”
It’s all the permission she needs, and I can’t stand it any longer. I take hold of the top of the sheet and I whip it off her body, but with her face still buried against my shoulder, or maybe it’s because she’s worked herself up so much, she doesn’t care, and she finally, finally slides her fingertip over her clit.
A long, low moan escapes her, a sound that
probably never left her pillowy lips whenever she used her vibrator. The sound is languid and relaxed, nothing like the held breath of concentration or the pants of frustration.
“Tell me what to do, Viking,” she prompts, and I nearly come inside my pajama pants.
My nostrils flare as I grit my teeth, trying to keep a rein on my control. I put myself on autopilot, letting the words I’ve said hundreds of times to patients come out while I actually focus on not giving in to the beast straining to burst out of me. “A lot of women find a diagonal stroke is the most pleasurable. So if your anus is the 12 on a clock and your belly button is the 6, stroke your fingertip from 1 to 7, since you’re using your right hand.”
She gasps as I watch her follow my directions, her breasts arching toward the ceiling, and she shudders. “Ohhh,” she moans in wonder as she does it over and over.
“Make sure to keep your fingers well lubricated to keep the movement smooth, and then try rubbing your clit with one, two, three, and then four fingers to see which one you prefer,” I say, managing not to choke on the words as I see her hand moving between her legs.
It’s torture, pure torture, and for once, I’m the masochist.
“Since you’re righthanded, you can try placing your pointer finger on the left side of your clit and your middle finger on the right side, and then rub it up and down or back and forth. Or place it between your thumb and the pad of your pointer like you’re going to pinch it, and roll it gently. Or roughly. It’s all up to you, goddess. You’ll slowly discover a combination of movements and pressure and speed that you enjoy above all the rest, and that’s the sweet spot. That is what will finally make you come.”
She nods frantically beneath my cheek, and I see her toes curl into the mattress. Her little sighs and moans and the visual I have, my perspective of looking down her body from the top of it, her hand working between her thighs, it’s becoming too much. It’s as if her pleasuring herself is pleasuring me, like I’m feeling what she’s feeling, and it’s bringing me closer and closer to the brink.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and it takes every ounce of strength within me not to say “fuck it, she can learn this later,” and bury my cock inside her, bringing us the relief we both need.
She’s already warmed up. Listen to those little whimpers of need. She wants us so badly, the beast taunts.
I loosen the chokehold I have on my cock and stroke up and down my shaft once, a growl rumbling up from my chest. The sound startles her, and she pulls herself back from my shoulder enough to look up at me, but her hand continues to work her pussy.
I don’t take stock of my expression, too overcome with desire to care, but what she sees there does something for her, because her eyes stay locked on mine and she shudders.
“I…” She gasps, and her eyes roll back for a moment before focusing once again. “Oh God,” she mewls, and I pump my hand again.
“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop,” I tell her, my voice deep and tight.
Her fingers move faster. Her breasts move with her panicked breaths.
“I feel it—” she whimpers, her eyes fluttering closed, her bottom lip coming between her front teeth before they let go and her mouth parts.
“That’s it, goddess. Imagine whatever you want. Picture it’s my hand down there, playing with your hard little clit, dipping into your tight, wet little hole, plunging in out of you. Imagine me lining my cock up with your slit, my hands gripping your thighs, and then I finally sink deep inside—”
“Oh God!” she cries, her hips jerking up off the bed. “I’m… I’m…”
“Yes, baby. Fuck, you’re such a good girl. Following all my orders. You listen so perfectly, doing what I say. Such a good little sub…”
And then her left hand shoots off the bed where she was gripping the sheet beneath her and into the back of my hair, where she pulls me down to crash my lips to hers. Just as I dip my tongue into her mouth to stroke against hers, my cock jerks in my hand, and I choke the head, refusing to come before her.
And suddenly she tears her face from mine and her whole body tenses, her hips thrusting off the bed, and she cries out, “I’m coming!” And I watch as her orgasm washes through her.
It’s a thing of beauty, watching her come, her face contorting in ecstasy and her body grinding against her hand. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and if not for the painful grip I have on my cockhead, I would follow her over that cliff.
But this isn’t about me. It’s about my woman, and I have to make sure she’s okay when this is over, make sure I give her any aftercare she might need. Because this is so powerful, so life-altering, and I feel honored to be the one who helped her achieve it.
She gives one final shudder before her hips collapse to the bed, and she pulls her hand up to rest on her mound, her breaths sawing in and out of her, her eyes still closed. She lies there, catching her breath, and I can’t take not touching her any longer. I let go of my cock and take hold of her right hand, pulling it up to my face. I see her eyes open just as mine close, and I inhale her scent deep into my lungs, feeling my dick strain against my pajama pants. I take her pointer finger into my mouth, tasting her wetness and wanting more, so I slip the middle and then the ring fingertips between my lips, using my tongue to lick them clean.
When I open my eyes again, her face is a mask of heated desire, and I swallow her down, leaning forward to kiss her once more. When I let go of her hand, she shifts, wrapping that arm around my shoulders, bringing her left down from my hair to grip my bicep, and then she pulls. She’s so tiny, so much smaller than I am, but I let her have her way, allowing her to pull me on top of her until my hips are cradled between her thighs.
“Please, Viking,” she whispers against my lips. “Please, I feel so empty inside. I need you to fill me up.”
I press my forehead against hers, the fucker inside me snapping its jaws, biting at the bit to do exactly as she wants. But I shake my head. “I’m trying to be strong for you, goddess. I don’t want sex to muddy what we’re building. I want your feelings to grow between us without you getting confused whether or not it’s only what I do to you physically that you’re falling for.”
“What?” she whispers, and I pull my head back just an inch to look down into her shocked eyes. “Is that why you haven’t touched me since you went down on me? You think I won’t know the difference between lust and love?”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re smart enough to know—”
She shakes her head. “No, no, Neil. I’m not getting defensive. I mean, you truly think that I’m not already irreversibly in love with you already?”
My head jerks back another inch to take in her whole face. Her lips twitch into a shy smile. “You… what?” I shake my head.
“Viking, I couldn’t even make it through the whole day without going to see you at work when you couldn’t come work out during lunch,” she says with a little chuckle, and then her face grows serious. “I’ve always been in love with the idea of being in love, and then I was hurt worse than any woman ever should be, and I swore to never fall in love again. But what I felt back then, what I’ve felt since my first boyfriend back in kindergarten all the way up until him… I know now that was not love. Because I have no doubt what I feel for you is the real thing, and it feels absolutely nothing like anything I’ve ever felt before in my life.”
And just like that, my whole body goes lax, my weight pressing down on her as my cheek comes down to rest at the top of her breasts, and her arms come up to cradle my head to her. Her words took my breath away, and all the tension I carried, all the worry I had for her, wanting to heal her heart she swore would never be fixed, it all just… lifts and floats away.
My arms tighten at her sides as she strokes through my hair, seeming to know I need a minute for my world to stop spinning. I’ve never felt such overwhelming happiness and relief in my life, unfamiliar with the feelings since I was eighteen over twenty years ago. A part of my own
heart feels healed like I was wishing for Astrid’s, and I just soak up the feeling of being held in the arms of the woman I love and who loves me, for the first time in over two decades.
When I finally lift my head again, she smiles up into my eyes, her beautiful blue ones twinkling at me. “Welcome back, Viking,” she murmurs.
“I think I died and went to heaven, goddess,” I admit, and she grins, shaking her head.
“I think you mean Valhalla.” She giggles, and she strokes her fingers down my beard. “So… now that you have no more excuses, will you please finally put us both out of our misery? I’m afraid your cock is going to crack and shatter if he gets any harder, and that would not make my newly working pussy very happy,” she states, and I can’t help it; I bury my face between her breasts, and I laugh. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, and I know, I just know, everything I’ve worked for was to lead me to this woman, to this moment.
Chapter 15
Astrid
With his laser-blue eyes still dancing with laughter, he pushes off the mattress on either side of my body and lifts to his knees. I watch him over my nakedness and through my parted thighs as he reaches behind his neck, his Thor arms rippling and bulging, as he tugs the white T-shirt off over his head.
My heart thunders in my chest, the roller coaster of emotions making me feel lightheaded, and I’m suddenly nervous as he looks down my body like he’s about to eat me alive. But there’s something behind that look, something swirled in with the obvious lust, something I’ve never seen directed at me before… except from this gorgeous man who’s tugging down his pajama pants to spring his cock free.
It’s true love I see in his eyes—protectiveness, trust, and worship—and as he tosses his clothes to the side, now as naked as me, it solidifies my reasoning that what I feel for him is the same, because it’s the exact look I feel pouring from my own.
