I slide my palm over his stomach. "And this will be beautiful, too. I want to give you as much pleasure as you gave me."
"Got all the pleasure I need, making you feel good."
"Bear," I say. "Please let me touch you. I don't just want to—Ineedto. I need to. Please." I let my hand drift lower. "Don't you want me to?"
He nods hesitantly. "Course."
“Have you…thought about this? About me touching you?”
A slow nod. "Couple times. Didn't feel right. Felt like I was using you or something. I dunno." A shrug. "When we decided to take time to get to know each other, I tried to put that aside."
"I know what you mean." I rest my cheek on his chest and watch my hand slip down to his left thigh. "Gonna make you feel so good, Bear. Just…just relax and let me touch you. Trust me, okay?"
He nods. "I do." His hand curls around my shoulders, tightening as my touch inches closer to his manhood. "Here for you, Noelle. Whatever you want. Whatever you need."
"What I want and need right now is…this." I cover the slack comma of his manhood.
At my touch, I feel it harden, immediately thickening, hardening, straightening.
Memories assault me, unbidden, unwanted, of the fumbling attempts in the past. Barely a handful at full erection, he would be done within seconds of me touching him. He’d make me feel bad about it. Like I did something wrong in making him come too soon.
It got to the point, toward the end of the relationship, where I'd lost interest in the act. With him, at least. Alone, I'd help myself find the release I needed—daydreaming and fantasizing about…well, exactly what Bear just gave me: time, attention, affection. Focusing on me. Making me feel good. It’s not just good—it’samazing. And no matter how wild or detailed the fantasy, nothing came even close to the reality of how Bear made me feel.
Now, a new hunger rises in me. I remember the wild need I felt as a teenage girl, a young woman eager to explore her body and sexuality. I remember feeling feverish and half-crazed with want. I remember making out and being shaky with the desire to feel him, to touch him, to explore.
All that comes to life within me again, stronger than ever, a kind of renewal of those girlhood needs, quashed and killed then, now resurrected by Bear's sweetness, patience, kindness, and devotion. By all that he is. By his touch.
I circle his thick, erect organ with one hand—my middle finger just barely meets my thumb. I place my other hand above the first, and he's long enough that the tip protrudes above my upper hand, a bulbous pink head, the slit weeping clear fluid.
I look at him—his jaw is tensed and flexing, his chest rising and falling with slow, powerful breaths. His eyes are locked on my hand, his erection.
"So big," I whisper, gently sliding one hand down from tip to root. "Beautiful." I hold his gaze for a moment. “You’re beautiful, Bear."
His brows lower, and his head shakes, but he says nothing, only swallows hard, breath coming faster.
“Talk to me, honey," I whisper. "I want to know what you're thinking, what you're feeling."
"Been a long, long time since I've been touched like this. Not sure how long I can last."
I nibble his earlobe. Whisper in his ear. "I don'twantyou to last. All I want is for you to feel good."
"You touching me…feels fucking amazing. Unreal."
I caress his length again, the ridges of skin and veins slipping and stuttering against my palm, past my fingers. His abs tuck in and harden, and his hips tense subtly. “It’s real,” I whisper.
"Oh god, Noelle. Feels so fucking good." His voice is rough and guttural and low. "Please don't stop."
“Never.” I feel…powerful.
Strong. Bold.
Maybe it was the orgasm, maybe it’s just him, the things he says, but I’m emboldened to let my desire take over. I give myself permission to be naughty. To let my deepest, wildest, most hitherto forbidden fantasies come true—because I know I’m safe with Bear.
I cup his taut, red-fuzzed, heavy balls in my hand, toying with them. They’re fascinating and strange. At my touch, he jerks, thighs bunching, a ragged growl pushing past his teeth.
"Love how you growl for me," I whisper. "Love the sounds you make."
I plunge my fist down his length again, ever so slowly, inch by inch, twisting around the top, scudding down the thick hot shaft, and curling around the root, my other hand cradling and cupping his balls.
