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It feels to me a few minutes later that the entire definition of sexual pleasure has been replaced for me with a brand new and far better one. As his tongue explores my pussy, I feel sensations that are just incredible. I don’t mean sensations I recognize, you know. I’m not talking about the sensations that indicate to me that I’m progressing to orgasm. Those sensations always make me want to hurry up and get there. This is different. This is pleasure that’s fulfilling ahead of orgasm, and I want it to last.
I mean… I’m not going to say that I’ll be just as satisfied to enjoy this without an orgasm as I would be with an orgasm. On the other hand, I’m not going to say I won’t be just as satisfied. His tongue moves up and down my slit, and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that it’s like I’ve learned an entirely new way to experience sex with someone.
I’m so wrapped up in it all that when I cum, I’m shocked by my orgasm’s arrival. I’m lost in all of the sensations so I don’t feel myself getting closer. The orgasm just hits!
“Carl!” I cry as my body just shakes uncontrollably. I’m not some kind of virgin and I guess by the way I acted downstairs in the bar, you can tell I have plenty of experience when it comesto sex. Guys have given me orgasms before but none of them can compare to this one. Maybe it’s just because this is the first time the orgasm came from oral sex. I don’t know.
I can tell you that the combination of sensations is pretty astounding. The pleasure is very sharp. You know how you can cum and after a while you feel like you can’t take anymore? You know how your pussy becomes too sensitive. I don’t know about you but when I get like that, I move like crazy so that I can get the guy off quickly. I guess the idea of a guy getting to think he was so good I had to beg him to stop is something I don’t want to happen. I don’t know.
But the pleasure is sharp, and even now in the beginning of my orgasm, I can feel myself approaching the point where I won’t be able to take anymore. At the same time, though, I feel a desperate longing for penetration. It’s like the orgasm is all on the surface, completely overwhelming me but like a flash fire, I guess. It’s burning up the outside of me while the inside of me is desperate for heat. If I could make my voice work past crying out his name, I don’t know what the hell I would say. I mean, part of me would want to beg him to stop and the other part would want to beg him to get that cock of his inside of me.
It doesn’t matter. Before I can catch my breath enough to say anything at all, he moves. I’m suddenly staring at his face while I pant involuntarily as I try to get oxygen. And then, I feel his cock slide into me. Apparently, that’s all it takes for my voice to work again because I scream, “Carl! Yes!” and throw my arms around his back. As he moves his hips, I wrap my legs around his waist as well.
I don’t even know how to go about explaining how the orgasm changes. It grows deep instantly. The oversensitivity doesn’t exactly disappear but now I’m not forced to focus on it because I can focus on the way my pussy clenches and unclenches on his shaft. I can focus on how that what I longedfor is here and it’s transformative. I move beneath him wildly, and it has nothing at all to do with wanting to get him off quickly so I can be done with things. I also find myself doing something new. I kiss his neck and his shoulders. I kiss his cheeks and when he turns his head, I kiss his mouth.
I can taste my pussy there. That’s new.
The kissing in the middle of sex is new for me. I guess in general, I think of kissing as an emotional activity while I think of sex as more of a physical activity. So, the fact that I’m engaging in something emotional is strange to me. The fact that I’m doing it with a complete stranger is about as insane as things get. Tomorrow, I’m going to check out of the hotel and then drive four and a half hours up into the mountains to Evergreen Pines.
That’s where Kennedy lives. She and I have been friends since we met in summer camp back when I was in fifth grade and she was in sixth. We just grew close and saw each other face to face every summer and talked almost every day on the phone. I’ll be helping her with her trucking business, which I guess is going to be my trucking business as well.
And all of this is important because I’ll never see Joshua again, and so it doesn’t make any sense for me to be romantic and sweet. It makes no sense for me to get emotional in relation to him. I’m going away and this is a pretty dangerous way for me to feel and a dangerous way for me to think. What I need to do is start crying out raunchy things.
“Fuck me, Joshua!”
“I love your cock, Joshua!”
“Fuck your little whore, Joshua!”
You know, anything that can turn this into something dirty instead of something beautiful. I can’t manage it, though. Instead, I’m kissing him and we’re making love like we’re destined to be together and not like two travelers seeking a night of pleasure that comes without consequence. I shouldn’tbe kissing him and I shouldn’t be entertaining wordless fantasies about this man and me.
When he cums, I feel fulfilled. Where in the world does that emotion come from? I mean, him cumming is nothing more than me living up to the promise I make coming to his room, right? It’s just part of the transaction. Why in the world does it feel like more?
Well, it does.
It feels like a whole lot more.
Anyway, I’m lost in thought about it as he cracks open his bottle, which he explains he bought to take home. I guess he’s here in the city arranging for some financing for his business. Anyway, we sit there naked and drink and then we fuck again and I get dressed and leave.
Except it doesn’t feel like fucking.
That feels like a crass way to think about it because the things running through my mind as I head to my hotel room aren’t crass at all. They’re silly emotions and silly schoolgirl fantasies. It’s stupid to let myself feel this way when I’m never going to see this man again unless we end up in some kind of awkward encounter in the hotel lobby when I’m checking out.
But all the schoolgirl fantasies remain in my head regardless of the wisdom involved.
Chapter Three
It’s just my luck that most of the people in Evergreen Valley dress like Joshua. I don’t know what world I lived in that it never occurred to me that since Kennedy runs a trucking logistics company and her primary customers are logging companies, I would be seeing a lot of lumberjacks. I mean, I don’t know for sure that Carl is a lumberjack but he certainly dressed that way.
I swear if I see another muscular guy wearing flannel, I might scream.
“We should stock your mini fridge, too,” Kennedy says. We’re at a grocery store here in town, I guess the only one. I love this little town, by the way. It’s beautiful. It’s also wonderful to see Kennedy, especially since she’s in a committed relationship. She’s completely transformed. See, Kennedy thinks she’s fat. She’s not. She’s definitely plus sized but there’s nothing obese about her. You can’t change her opinion of that, though. Believe me, I’ve tried for a number of years.
But her boyfriend Josh is a tall, muscular, sexy lumberjack.
I can’t escape all of my memories of Carl!
After a week in Evergreen Valley, I haven’t been able to let go of the attachment I still feel. It’s crazy. Kennedy has beenawesome, though. She set me up in a very nice little one-bedroom apartment. I call it an apartment but the truth is, it’s more like a house. I mean, has its own private yard and it’s part of a long line of apartments all on the ground level and separated by garages. There are eight of them, so I guess the technical term might be eightplex or something.
