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Mind-blowing
Wildly erotic
Spectacular
Unreal
Super-human
Breathtaking
Unimaginably life-changing
And, of course, that old standby:
Fucking awesome
Does that about sum it up? Those aren’t perfect, but they’ll have to suffice.
Simon had been both gentle and rough, loving and sexual. He’d somehow managed to make dirt and old, crinkly leaves romantic. I suspected anywhere with him could be a romantic place, actually. He’d looked so in awe when I’d taken off my clothes, as though he was blinded by sunlight, or like it was his first time looking at a woman’s naked form. Based on his own appearance and general insouciance, I seriously doubted the latter.
I’d never been fucked before. Or, that was to say, I’d never been properly fucked before.
Prior to this, to the moment with Simon, it had been a series of shitty college guys who could barely keep it hard because of intense whiskey dick, or more accurately, three-dollar beer dick. They were guys who added me on Snapchat but forgot my name, who said they’d love to take me on a date, only for it to turn out that, in their minds, a date was a tailgate before the next big football game. They were guys who, fundamentally, didn’t give a shit about me or my pleasure.
And then there was Simon.
He’d cared about nothing but me, that much was obvious. Yes, he’d come, but he’d taken great pains to ensure that I did too, and first, if possible. And I squirted! I didn’t even know I could do that. It was an exciting discovery. Simon’s focus had been singular, intense, unlike anything I’d experienced before. I felt powerfully, profoundly seen. And it turns out that that’s an unnerving emotion.
My parents had ‘seen’ me, but only as their little Catya, their baby girl. My friends had seen me, but as their leader, or their mom figure. But Simon had seen both the me who I was, and the one I’d wanted it to be. Who knew sex could be that intimate? I felt like I was waxing poetic à la Junie B. Jones, going on and on about sex like it was more than just a physical act.
But it was. I couldn’t help the truth.
He wrapped his arms around me, his tattooed flesh pressing closer to my own unmarked skin. His biceps flexed as they attempted to hold me tighter, tighter, as though he might force our bodies into one through sheer will.
“That was—” I began, then broke off.
Simon replied, “Yeah,” which pretty much summed the whole thing up.
We lay there silently for some time, enough that I was able to see the sun move a few degrees in the sky, watch the shadows change around us. Was it a warm day, or was I just warm in his embrace? The greenery seemed to forget that it was fall, small wildflowers bloomed near our feet, amidst patches of grass.
“Catya,” he said suddenly.
I shifted so that I could look up at his gaze, beyond the jut of his chin, past the straight nose, up to the eyes.
“Yes?” I returned, my voice barely a whisper, yet filling the forest.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I started to worry that something was wrong. I knew it, I knew it couldn’t be this good, there had to be a catch—
“I have feelings,” he blurted out. “For you, that is. I have feelings for you.”
So nothing was wrong. In fact, something was right. No — perfect.
“I like you too,” I responded, a smile taking over my face.
He shot me a big grin, his white teeth glinting in the sun. I liked the way the rays caught his unkempt hair and illuminated it like a lion’s mane, making him king of the jungle and king of my pussy.
And then I sighed and asked the question we’d been masterfully avoiding for days.
“What are we gonna do about it?”
His fingers played in my heart and wandered over my nipple as I watched him think this through, weighing pros and cons, doing mental math.
At last, he replied, “I have no clue.”
I’d wanted a firmer answer or any answer, but I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t come up with a solution to an impossible problem. I’d tried to tackle the question and had fared no better.
He continued, “I like you, Catya, quite a lot, and I want to be with you but I’d also never forgive myself if you lost your scholarship. I just — I’m not sure I could personally recover from the pain of inflicting that blow.”
I hastened to add, “And I would be heartbroken if you lost your job, not least of all because I couldn’t see you anymore.”
A smile flickered across his face, and then the storm clouds drew in once more between his brows.
“So we’re agreed,” he declared. “There’s nothing to be done about it right now. Perhaps we just need to sleep on it?”
