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The sounds spilling out of her mouth are a nonsensical mix of my name, “More,” and, “Please.”
I work my fingers faster, watching her writhe on the countertop. The couch would have been more comfortable, but she’s at the perfect height here. And Sophia’s too far gone in the haze of pleasure to care where she’s lying. It would be so easy to tug my shorts down and slip the erection straining against the mesh fabric deep inside of her. She’s given me the green light so many times. But I’m still unsure about taking that final step. I know it’ll mean something to her, and I know it’ll mean something to me. I’m terrified I’ll somehow fuck it up.
So, I lean down and suck on her clit, knowing that’ll push her over the edge. Her pussy clamps around my fingers, to the point that it’s painful as she comes.
As soon as her cunt stops fluttering, she’s sliding off the counter and pulling on the waistband of my shorts. Then, it’s my turn to clutch the counter as she sinks to her knees and sucks my cock into her mouth.
Eagerly, like she’s desperate for a taste.
I hit the back of her throat, and she hums approvingly, the vibration as incredible as the clench when she swallows. My knees almost buckle when she pulls back and circles the flared tip with her tongue, then traces the slit at the end. Her mouth moves down to my balls next, pulling the right testicle into her mouth and then moving to the left one.
We’ve both gotten good at discovering what each other likes, something I’ve never experienced with a partner before. I’ve never been with the same woman enough times to get to know those things. For her to get to know those things about me. Nothing about it is boring, the way I assumed it would be.
I let go of the countertop and push my fingers into her hair, paying no mind to the elastic as it pulls from her hair and falls to the floor. I just enjoy the feel of the silky blonde strands running through my fingers as I thrust into her mouth.
“Just like that,” I tell her.
Sophia’s hands run up the back of my thighs until she reaches my ass cheeks. Her nails dig into my skin as she physically pulls me deeper into her mouth. That’s what pushes me over the edge, her acting like she can’t get enough of my cock. Her taking me as deep as she physically can.
My groan is a low rumble as heat licks its way down my spine. My balls draw up tight. And then I’m coming, the muscles in my groin tensing and contracting as my dick jerks, filling Sophia’s mouth with spurts of cum. Delicious throbs thrum through my body as she swallows everything I give her.
I slide out of her mouth, sated but not satisfied. One look at her—swollen lips and tousled hair—has raw need remaining, like a spark that’s been blown at but not extinguished.
I can’t get enough. With her, I always want more.
I reach down for my shorts, but Sophia snags my arm before I can pick them up.
I glance at her, surprised. This isn’t part of our routine. We usually eat, fool around, hang out, fool around again, and then go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
“I need more,” she tells me.
She’s always insatiable and eager, often initiating intimacy between us first. But I know she’s not asking for my mouth again. She wants more, that final step we haven’t taken.
And I’m dying to fuck her, obviously. This is the longest I’ve gone without sex since I was a teenager. I’m insanely attracted to her, and stopping myself from pushing inside her is a form of torture every single time we get naked together.
But I also want more than sex from Sophia. I have feelings for her, and I’m nervous to mix that with what has always been forgettable and meaningless in the past. I don’t know how to explain that to Sophia. I can hardly make logical sense of it myself. And I know she’s reading it more as a rejection each time I hesitate.
Like I’m hesitating now.
I think of her angry words in the club restroom. How she can make her own choices, how this is her decision. Part of me is still trying to make that decision for her, each time we get close to this point. She’s trusting me, and being worthy of that means facing my own fears.
I’ve experienced the physical act of sex before. But the emotional aspect is new to me, same as her. I don’t know how to make love to a woman, as corny and cliché as that sounds.
“Okay.” A simple, inconsequential word, for what feels like a monumental moment. But I’m bad about expressing myself with syllables; I always have been. It’s probably why I always gravitated toward sports, where actions speak much louder. You rarely have to justify or explain. You just do.
I tug her up and into me, holding eye contact the entire time.
“Okay?” The question is whispered, like this moment is a bubble that might pop.
“I’ve been dying to fuck you since I saw you pouting in the stands, so it shouldn’t be a hardship on my part.”
Sophia rolls her eyes in response, but it lacks the normal nonchalance when I say something that amuses or annoys her. She’s nervous. I catch the twitch in her cheek as she chews the inside. Her fingers trail down to my wrist, and then her hand is on my slick, half-hard cock. My dick reacts, swelling, rapidly getting hard again.
She smiles smugly at the sight, as proud of my reaction as I’m enamored by hers.
Her hand drops, finding the hem of her shirt instead and pulling it over her head. She lets me look at her naked body for a few seconds, then heads for her bedroom.
I take a deep breath, then follow.
