My Guys

by Tanya Chris

  I came—pushing, pushing, pushing into him and then, the sensation too intense as my orgasm peaked, trying to pull away. Still, he didn’t allow it, adding a light suction to the frenzy of heat and wet and motion. A second wave of orgasm broke over me, higher than the first. From a distance I heard my own incoherent voice. Needing somehow even more contact I pressed into him again, riding the wave until it broke.

  Damp with sweat, although I hadn’t moved more than inches, I melted into the bed. Nate was still between my legs, his mouth lower and slower. I pulled at his arms to bring him up to me.

  “Done already?” he asked. “Sure?”

  Now that he mentioned it, I wasn’t at all sure, but I sat up anyway, just to check. Yep, still hard. He lifted his head and grinned at me—a pussy-eating grin. He glowed with satisfaction and glistened with my juices. I lay back down.

  “More, please.” I threaded my hands through his hair and pulled him into me.

  When he started nibbling, I sighed with contentment and wiggled my hips to move them forward. This time he was rougher, faster, making me gasp and grind. I didn’t fight it. I threw myself against him, giving myself up entirely to the sensation, knowing that what was pleasing me was pleasing him. I came harder, a second wave following the first wave, and a third wave crashing through them both, obliterating everything except the feel of Nate’s mouth on me.

  “More?” Nate asked, mumbling it into me.

  I hesitated. “Wouldn’t you like to ... ?”

  “Actually, I really would.” He sat up and wiped his face with the back of his hand, which didn’t even start to take care of the problem. I laughed and caught some of my juices flowing off his chin in my hand.

  “I’ve made a mess of you.” I felt buoyantly joyous, not a self-conscious thought in my mind.

  “God, you’re sexy. Will you get on top of me?”

  A self-conscious thought tried to sneak its way in.

  “Please?”

  I nodded, pushing the thought away. Whatever Nate wanted, I would try to give him.

  He sat next to me on the bed, applying a fresh condom, then tugged me over him. I put a hand on his cock and guided him into me. Leaning forward to brace my hands on either side of his head, I started lifting myself up and down his shaft. Nate watched my face. He cupped a breast, rubbing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  “So beautiful.” He pulled me down and I reveled in the slow, sensuous kiss, still sliding my body along his. I wouldn’t come this way, but I didn’t need to, and I knew better than to pretend I had. It was enough that he was enjoying it.

  Nate broke the kiss and pushed me away from him so I was upright. His eyes ranged over me. I tried to be OK with it. I wasn’t twenty-five anymore and I hadn’t had a porn star-quality body even when I was, but Nate’s eyes were warm and generous.

  “Let me,” he said, stilling my hips. He tilted his pelvis up into mine and pulled me forward, like he had that day in the car. I squeaked in surprise.

  Genius, I thought, as I rode him to another orgasm, not as intense but sweeter for his being inside me. When I’d finished shuddering, he flipped us.

  This time I could tell it was about him, not me. I relaxed, watching his face as he let his own instincts drive him. His eyes were open but unfocused, his mouth grim with intent. He dropped his head, his hair falling around his face. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as the pace of his thrusts increased.

  “Mm,” I said, appreciating the sight, the feel, the sound of Nate above me. I ran my hands down his arms and back up them, savoring the flexed muscles beneath my hands.

  With a gasp, he buried his cock to the hilt. His wide, wild eyes closed and his whole body shook, then softened. He lowered himself on top of me. I pressed my lips to his neck, adoring him.

  After a few moments he picked his head up, looking down at me with a satisfied smile. “My way is better.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you.”

  He kissed me sweetly, drawing away to rub his nose against mine, and then kissing me again. With a sigh he rolled off of me, his hand holding the condom at the base. He slid it off his dick and tied a knot in it, then tossed it on the nightstand where it landed like a miniature water balloon. It lay plump and full next to the first condom, a limp rag. His way was much better.

  “You’re not circumcised.”

  His dick had shriveled into an unexpected shape.

  “You’re just noticing?”

  “It didn’t look different before.”

  “When it’s hard, the head comes out of the foreskin.” He pulled back the foreskin and the head of his penis sprang out like a bald gopher head popping up out of its hole. I laughed. He quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “Are you laughing at my dick?”

  “It’s so cute.” I played with his dick, making the head pop in and out, giggling every time. Nate lay on his back with his arms behind his head, comfortable for real this time, letting me have my fun.

  My head was full of bubbles, like I’d been drinking champagne. Everything was sparkling. The sun poured in through the windows, lighting us like blessed beings touched by God. Nate’s pale skin shone in it. His teeth gleamed in a permanent smile.

  I enjoyed the freedom to touch without restriction. My hands ran everywhere. Nate purred, snuggling into me, asking for more.

  Such an angel, I thought, with his head cradled to my breast, my fingers combing through his hair. His smile grew sweet and sleepy.

  “You’re used to being spoiled, aren’t you?” I asked him.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Are you an only child?”

  “The baby. I have three older sisters.”

  “No wonder. Do they live at home with you?”

  “No, it’s just me and my mom at home now.”

  “And she spoils you, too.”

  He didn’t answer, only smiled.

  I went back to stroking his head, one more woman spoiling him.

  Chapter 10

  I felt so unholy. Nate had been in rehearsal all week so we’d made up for it Friday night, not to mention most of the day and night Saturday. If it wasn’t for his insistence on going home at night to sleep in his own bed, we’d probably still be at it and I wouldn’t have made it to church that morning. Nate claimed he slept at home because he worried about his mother, but more likely she made him breakfast.

  Despite the shower I’d taken that morning, I felt unclean in a sinfully good way. I couldn’t keep from smiling as inappropriate memories flashed through my mind. I’d warned Nate that if I ever got past my shyness he wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off of him, but it was myself I was shocking, not him. Nate accepted my greedy demands as normal, if amusing.

  My mother sat next to me in the pew taking my cheerfulness as proof that church was the right place for me to be. I tried to curtail my memory. Bless me father for I have sinned, I thought, causing a fresh smile to burst out. Man, had I sinned. And sinned and sinned and sinned.

  “You’re in a good mood this morning,” my mother said.

  “I had a nice date last light.”

  She scrunched her face at me disapprovingly. “Did you go to confession?”

  “No, Mom.” I couldn’t imagine confessing Nate. I’d confessed pre-marital sex in the past—I knew the floor wouldn’t open and demons fly out to drag me down into their fiery pit—but I didn’t want to confess Nate. I didn’t feel guilty about Nate. I felt as though, maybe, God had sent Nate to me.

  “Have you talked to Alex?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What, sort of? You did or you didn’t.”

  Alex had dropped by unexpectedly earlier in the week. I hadn’t called him like I’d promised I would, so when I saw his car in the driveway, I figured he’d gotten tired of waiting and was pushing the issue.

  Resigned, I walked into the house and called his name. He didn’t answer so I continued through the house until I found him in our bedroom standing over his nightstand on whic
h were arrayed two water balloon condoms and one limp rag condom. Oops.

  He turned to me, an expression of shock and horror on his face, probably similar to the one that had been on my face the day he’d dropped his own bomb. He gestured to the condoms, speechless. I shrugged, not having an answer other than the obvious. Without a word, he brushed past me, out of the bedroom and out of the house.

  “I saw him,” I told my mother. It wasn’t a lie.

  “Good. I’m proud of you.”

  In my mind, I winced. I was sorry to disappoint my mother but not sorry to avoid a reconciliation talk with Alex. This last week I’d enjoyed being single.

  At the gym I’d seen Derek—polite, friendly, gorgeous Derek. I’d expected to feel less drawn to him following Sunday’s romp with Nate. Historically I’d always been a one-man woman. If I was crazy about Nate—and I was—then the whole world would be Nate to me, as though other men were cardboard cutouts without depth or color. But the exact opposite happened.

  When I spotted Derek hanging from one arm, the other arm reaching back to his chalk bag, his bare chest rotated into view, my mouth got dry and my pussy got wet. Before, he’d been off-limits—look but don’t touch. Now, with a Nate-notch on my belt, Derek moved from impossible to possible.

  It would serve Nate right if I did have sex with Derek, since he was as committedly non-committal now as he’d been before we had sex. Trouble was, Derek wasn’t likely to pursue me the way Nate had, and I’d never pursued anyone before. I didn’t have the first idea how to go about it. I wondered if I could lure him back under the bush with me.

  I shifted on the pew next to my mother, fanning myself with my hand. Nate had absolutely ruined my mind. Even at work I couldn’t focus on anything other than sex for longer than ten minutes. I felt like a teenager.

  Or no, maybe I felt like a woman approaching middle age. Didn’t they say that about us, that we were at our sexual peak? Because I couldn’t remember being this obsessed with sex as a teenager. Obsessed with some boy, perhaps, but not obsessed with sex. Certainly not obsessed with sex with multiple boys, God help me.

  God help me, I offered up in prayer. I didn’t know where He was leading me but I felt led. There was an inevitability about what had been happening beyond my ability to control it. God loved me and wanted me to be happy.

  I squirmed on the pew again hoping the dampness in my panties wasn’t going to make a spot on the back of my dress. I really needed to think about something else.

  My mother gave me a look. “You got ants in your pants?”

  “Why do they have to make these pews so hard?” I asked, deflecting her. Then the word ‘hard’ made me giggle to myself like a thirteen-year-old girl.

  “Because we’re here to contemplate God, not relax.”

  I sighed. Only my mother would answer that question literally

  Donna had cackled triumphantly when I’d told her about Nate. Of course she had. Why would I even tell her? Because I was warning her away from Nate, that was why.

  I’d swung by the theater one night even though I had no reason to be there. I just wanted to see him. I poked my nose into the auditorium, not sure of my reception. Rehearsal hadn’t started and people were milling around. No one seemed concerned that I was there, so I went up to Donna. She showed me her highlighted copy of the script.

  “Nineteen lines.” She flipped through pages to illustrate. “That’s it. Meanwhile, I have to be here every night because I’m on stage the whole time. On stage, not talking. It’s the stupidest.”

  “Stage time is where it’s at,” Nate said, coming up to us. “I’ve seen minor characters steal the whole show without a word. You have to make the character into someone real and then be that person the whole time, not just when you have lines.”

  “The sexy secretary,” I suggested, reminding Donna of what she’d said at my birthday party.

  “Oh yeah?” Nate raised an eyebrow at her.

  “I was kidding,” Donna said defensively.

  “No, you could totally do that. Be sexy the whole show. Make it your part.”

  Donna considered, her eyes turning to her script. Nate took the opportunity to kiss me, briefly but seriously.

  “Friday,” he said. He walked away, leaving Donna staring at me.

  “Are you going to ... .?”

  “We already have.”

  That was when she’d laughed and started chanting in a sing-song voice: “Melissa’s getting laid, Melissa’s getting laid.”

  I lifted my chin like she wasn’t getting to me at all.

  “Good thing you sealed the deal,” she said when she’d tired of her game at last. “Look at that ass.”

  I followed her eyes to Nate’s ass. I didn’t tell her that I had non-exclusive rights to his person. Instead I said, “Get your eyes off my ass.” She only laughed and said, “Doesn’t hurt to look,” but I knew she’d gotten my message. Even if Nate didn’t know better, Donna now did.

  “Did you and Alex agree to some counseling, I hope,” my mother whispered, bringing me back to the dimly lit church and the hard pew.

  “We didn’t really discuss it.”

  “I wish you would, Melissa. I wish you’d at least discuss it.”

  “Mom,” I said, speaking more loudly than I’d intended, “not now. I don’t want to talk to Alex. I don’t want to talk about Alex. Not now. OK?”

  She shook her head and turned away from me, a hurt look in her eyes. The procession started, saving me from responding to that look. I stood automatically.

  As the service progressed through a series of familiar rituals, my mind drifted back and forth between Nate, Derek, and Alex until the priest began his homily on the subject of false idols. I tried to remember what came after the homily. Communion? No, Profession of Faith, then Communion.

  “We look to other people—parents, spouses, employers—as though they have the power in our lives, when we should be looking to God for that power.”

  The word spouse caught my attention.

  “Your father, your mother, your employer, your husband, your wife, your children, your neighbors, your friends—these are not your God. These are people, like you, meant to be servants of God. In all things, we must look to God first. Only God can command us.”

  The priest took a breath while the congregation rustled impatiently. When he started talking again, he transitioned to the subject of television personalities, and my attention drifted away.

  Whether it was more accurate to describe Alex as my world—like Morgan had—or as my God—as the priest was suggesting—I couldn’t decide, but it was becoming clear to me that he’d been too much. Maybe there was good reason to pursue Derek: to keep myself from obsessing so hard over Nate. Maybe God had sent me Derek too.

  I smiled, my thoughts flickering back to exactly what I’d do with Derek if I caught him.

  The priest finished and everyone rose. I fumbled my way through the Nicene Creed, knowing my mother would notice, then followed her up the aisle to receive Communion. When the service was over, I faced her nervously, but she wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

  “I’m glad you came, Melissa. None of my children come to church with me anymore.”

  “I’m glad I came too,” I said. “I should come more often.”

  My mother beamed at me. I gave her a hug and walked to my car with a bounce in my step, wondering if Nate had time before rehearsal to drop by.

  Chapter 11

  “What do you want to do for your birthday?” I asked Nate when he called after rehearsal on Wednesday.

  He didn’t call often. Some nights I sat up in bed reading with my phone laid carefully next to me until much too late before giving up. Some nights I got a quick text: sweet dreams or night Lissie or thinking of you, which sounded romantic except that if he meant it romantically, he’d call instead of texting, wouldn’t he? I was pretty sure it meant he was about to jerk off.

  When I got the thinking of you text, I would sigh and try to feel f
lattered. I wished he’d come over after rehearsals, but there was the mother thing and the getting-up-early thing. Nate worked for his uncle doing drywall. It was physical, dusty work that for some reason started very early in the morning. My job felt so civilized and sanitary.

  He’d called tonight because we were planning to see each other tomorrow—a mid-week rarity—because he had the night off from rehearsal, a lucky coincidence since it happened to be his birthday.

  “Hmm?” I added when he didn’t answer right away.

  “I’m trying to think of a non-dirty answer.”

  “Dirty ones are OK, too.”

  “Good, ’cause we’ll get to that after.”

  “After what though?”

  The ‘what’ turned out to be climbing. He’d told me the day we met that he’d be interested in trying it. Excited to be the experienced one for a change, I brought Nate into the gym and introduced him to Gary.

  “Where do you know Lissie from?” Gary asked, suiting Nate up.

  “The theater.”

  “I didn’t know you were an actress.” Gary turned his attention back to me.

  “My secret double life.” I didn’t bother to correct his assumption that I acted. It was what non-theater people always assumed.

  “Maybe I could come see you in a show.”

  “Actually, Nate’s the star of the next show.”

  Gary looked like he was a lot less interested in seeing Nate in a show. He finished Nate’s paperwork and reminded me that I was responsible for him. I led Nate into the main room, turning to catch his expression when he saw it.

  He nodded a few times, his eyes flitting from one wall to another and coming to rest on the massive overhanging wall directly across from us.

  “Can you climb up that?”

  “Not yet. I can climb that one.” I pointed to the right wall which also overhung but more gently. He nodded appreciatively.

  I introduced Nate to Jenny and Katrina, wanting to say ‘my boyfriend’ but sticking to ‘friend’ instead. The way Nate looked at Jenny especially made me want to put my stamp on him. I’d gotten so used to climbing with her that I’d forgotten she was a tiny, beautiful blond girl ten years younger than I was.