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I feel his huge hands on both my shoulders, easing me back. The sight of his still rock-hard erection only inches from me only makes this worse for me, in a way. I know I have a need, but this man needs that thing drained before it injures him. I’m sure of it.
“Just tell me you want this, Beth,” he says earnestly, thumbing my round, flushed cheek with his thumb, the same thumbprint etched on my clit’s memory for all time. “If I’ve been too forward… If you don’t want…” he says, changing his mind about his choice of words each time until I do the only thing I can think of to stop his talking. I lean up and kiss him again. He grunts and hums low until it becomes a growl of frustration. His half-smile and shaking head tell me he’s not mad. He just wants this to be perfect. I know Bowdie’s a perfectionist. That’s how he built his career.
“I do want this,” I whisper hoarsely, “I want you… I want… I want everything,” I confess, hoping he knows how much I mean it when I run the flat of my palm up and down the front of his jeans, making him groan and then chuckle out loud as I feel all that heat flooding back to my groin.
“You’re not making this easy, Beth,” he cautions me, bringing out the naughty side of me that figures, why not? Why not just have him take me right here, right now?
I told myself he could have me anywhere, anytime, and there’s no time like the present. Despite his own obvious need, I know he wants to show me more than just stars when I close my eyes and feel this giant dick of his erupting inside me. Bowdie’s an older man who probably appreciates the finer points of romance, like dinner and a walk on the beach first. So, I can’t help wondering if he can even wait in his present state of arousal.
I mean, I did take biology, and anyone with an internet connection over eighteen should have a pretty fair idea about how all this stuff works. Still, that doesn’t include this feeling of wanting to be close and just being together. The part of it all that makes the touching and kissing even more special.
I want it all—having someone to spend time with, stare at, or goof around and do nothing with. Bowdie doesn’t have to do anything more than he already is doing to win my heart.
“I just want your first time… our first time to be… special,” he finally rasps, clenching his jaw and almost losing his train of thought as I accidentally discover the tip of his zipper. I work it down slowly, sitting myself up properly on the edge of the table with him in front of me, really wanting to at least take a peek at what all this fuss is about.
“Beth,” he cautions me without trying to stop me. “Are you even… Can you understand what I’m…” he trails off, groaning with resignation mixed with animal lust. He moves his huge hands over mine to help me help him out of that cotton prison that had Dr. Bigg cooped up in for so long, just itching and aching to be free.
It’s a thrill like nothing else, and my heart is like a rabbit’s in my throat. My mouth is dry, and my hands are so shaky I can barely—
Whoa!
Like. Fucking. Whoa!
Bowdie’s cock springs free, and even with both my hands, I can’t grip it all the way around. Its length reaches my face, instantly painting me with a smear of his precome as he groans, gripping each side of my head and stroking my hair. He makes that face I’m guessing I made when he put his mouth on me for the first time. “My room’s only up the hall,” I remind him, sucking air in sharply as I gaze in awe at his erection and feel myself gape in anticipation. I’m already willing myself to take every inch of this bad boy, even if it means needing a special chair to sit in from now on.
Even though his thick, stiff organ flexes and twitches in my changing grip, Bowdie tenses up, making my eyes lift as I tilt my head to see his face. “Beth,” he murmurs, groaning as I make sure he sees me swipe a few fingerfuls of my own wetness from the fresh flood the sight of his engorged cock up close has given me. Bowdie watches my hand as I lightly trace a heart on his swollen tip. I hope he can make it out before my whole hand coats him in my essence.
Using his own lube, which is running freely and mixing with mine, his perfect cock is gleaming and pulsing as I pump his thick shaft slowly with one hand. With my other hand, I run my palm over the smooth head of what must be the most beautiful penis in the world.
His groans get an edge to them. I hear his molars lock as his jaw clenches. His arousal swells more, signaling me it’s time to repay the favor—the gift he’s already given me today. My breaths are swift, but Bowdie sounds like he’s just run a marathon, growling my name, gripping my hair hard, and tugging my face back to look up at his.
“Oh, fucking hell, Beth,” he groans.
Last warning, and no, I’m not gonna stop. My hands move frantically, trying to cover as much of his hot, fat dick faster and faster. I feel another climax of mine rising, my boiling clit on a hair trigger as the fabric from my nightshirt teases me like a miniature Bowdie tongue.
I whimper out loud. Once Bowdie sees that his getting off is getting me off for the second time, it’s all he can take. Focusing hard, I know I don’t wanna miss a second of this, as if anyone could miss it. The guy’s dick is probably visible from space.
With one final gasping grunt and growl as he says my name again, Bowdie’s organ erupts, twitching and jerking violently in my hands as if it has a life of its own, painting me for real this time with thick, hot ribbons of his seed. The sight and sensation of it make me rigid as my hands grip him tighter, squeezing him until I feel my own volcanic climax being the only thing to slow my pumping hands.
We both swear loudly. Bowdie’s knees actually shake, and his whole body quivers in time with my own. His orgasm is as intense as it is plentiful, and it’s a taste I crave already when I feel a rivulet of his still boiling seed slip into my mouth from my cheek.
“Holy fucking shit,” he gasps, gripping me and then the edge of the table to steady himself, my own climax having turned me into a moron as well as gluing me to the spot as my insides shudder uncontrollably.
“Uh-huh,” I manage to wheeze after a time, both of us sharing a look that only two people who share a moment like this could understand.
Yes, now I understand what all the fuss is about. If it’s the right guy, and knowing Bowdie’s the only guy I’ll ever do this with makes it more than just special. It means I’m his now, marked in a way I know I’ll remember and cherish until I die.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Bowdie
It’s better than anything. My deepest desire to have her know how I feel is as much a relief as her draining my balls, though I tried to warn her. Nothing so far has gone how I imagined it would, which is good because it is better. It’s better now that she not only knows but can see and feel for herself just what she does to me. She knows what I can do to her and how we can join the two forever.
We can have this whenever we want.
The thought’s cut short by the reality of our situation, but not long enough or anywhere strong enough to make me or Beth want any of this to end. I want her to know that her first time will be a little over the top. I dunno. Maybe not so over the top… a five-star suite, dinner, and a show. Perhaps just have dinner and go straight to bed, but it will be memorable. It won’t be just having her yank me off at the kitchen table in her dad’s kitchen. Although, I gotta say, if I’d known it would be like this, I would’ve been flying back much sooner. There’s no way I would’ve stayed in London another minute if I knew how Beth felt, too.
I feel a mix of pride, satisfaction, and, as much as I hate to admit it, shame, not because of what Beth and I have done, but because it’s in my best friend’s house, right on his damned kitchen table, for god’s sake. That’s what I mean about wanting it to be special in other ways, but Beth doesn’t seem bothered one bit.
