A realization hits me. He’s been touching me, but I haven’t touched him at all. It’s not that I don’t want to,but I’m nervous. I’ve never seen that part of a boy, let alone touched one. Do I go for it?
He feels around above my apex, making circles and allowing me to get used to him touching there when I make the bold choice to move my arm and reach for him. He immediately stops.
“Don’t worry about me. All I want is to feelyouright now. Let me please you first.Please,” he begs.
He pries my lips apart with his tongue at the same time he dips his finger into me for the very first time. I grip his back and crumple his shirt in my fist, the other gripping for dear life on his forearm.
My eyes roll back, a louder moan escaping into the night as my back arches and my nails dig into the skin on his forearm. I don’t even know what’s up or down at this point. All I know is him and this pleasure, this amazing pleasure sending my body into tingles and flames all at once.
He kisses my neck, his tongue sliding up it and licking the beads of sweat off my skin. His moan in my ear drives me crazy, sending a deep throbbing ache below for more of him. Sweat coats my body under the blanket but the extra heat adds to my experience, boiling me in pleasure.
Another finger slides in. God, I can barely take the ecstasy. It’s so far out of this world. I’ve never felt anything as good as this.
He flattens his palm and surges deeper, just how I like it. Just how I discovered I liked it with myself earlier in the week.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I moan at the stars; I’m going to scream from this ecstasy that needs to get out somehow. He hushes me with his mouth, stifling me.
Damn, that’s hot.
I lift up his shirt, needing his skin on mine and move closer. A soft moan escapes him when our skin touches. I smirk and start to watch what he’s doing to me.
I’m on the edge and so, so close to that blissful release. My hips grind on his hand as my nails pulse on his forearm keeping him in place, urging him to keep going. His fingers pulse in rhythm with my hips, each plunge more aggressive.
“You’re close aren’t you, Char? Are you going to come for me?”
I can’t speak between the moans and labored breaths. I’m completely engulfed in pleasure, in him, in what he’s doing to me. All I can do is whimper and nod.
“You’re never going to want to come for yourself after you come for me. Come for me, Char.”
Release hits me as my name echoes on his voice. My entire body convulses, moving in rhythm with his until I completely finish. He drags his fingers out of me, once again taking his time. I lay there panting and catch him staring at me with a lazy, satisfied grin.
“You never answered me before on who made you come. You’ve only made yourself orgasm, haven’t you?”
I nod, keeping eye contact, exhausted and unable to speak, still coming down from the high. But then I’m thrown from the high into a small panic as I remember who I used to come to. The biker boy. Should I tell Ben now? Would I ruin everything by doing so?
“Good,” he says, kissing my neck and cheek. His arm moves and I catch him wiping me off on his skin.
“I’m sorry if that’s gross. You can wipe it off on me if you want.”
“You have a lot to learn. It’s hot having you on me. I want you and your smell all over me.”
Empowerment in myself surges like it did when I masturbated for the first time, shoving the biker boy outof the forefront of my mind for the time being. Pride and satisfaction replace the anxiousness present before. Pride in that he finds me this hot and wants to taste me, smell like me and enjoy me and satisfaction that I can make him feel this way.
Apparently, I do have a lot to learn about what gross means for guys.
“So…I smell?” I ask curiously.
He pulls me completely flush against him and takes a deep breath. “Mhmm. I can smell you every time you get…excited. You smellso fuckin good.”
“Wait…what? That’s a thing?”Oh my God, he knew this whole time how I was feeling…?
