Explorations Commence.
by horn pixy. Listen to the ► Podcast at Connected.
“My tongue?” she said, sounding a little squeaky.
“Yes, Emily. Slip it in my mouth.”
There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, “why?”
“I want to show you something delicious,” he said, and instead of the pity he might have expected when he realized that she had never done this, he only felt a primal, primitive male pride to be the one to teach her, to show her.
He felt her warm little tongue pressing hesitatingly against his lips and opened them, sucking it hard inside his mouth.
“Oh my,” she gasped; or tried to, anyway; and he grinned a little in pure satisfaction.
“Good, huh?” he asked after he let go.
“Uhm,” she muttered.
“Want to do it again?”
“Uhm,” she managed again. He slanted his mouth over hers and lapped at her tongue again, this time drawing it into his mouth. He suckled, hard, and she made a small, helpless little sound as both his hands started kneading her ass, covered with the stiff material of new jeans. He pressed her body harder against the door frame, desperate to have more of her. The kiss became urgent, and he realized the exact moment she stopped worrying about what to do and just let her body react, because suddenly it was even more perfect; her lips moving with his, her tongue meeting and thrusting against his, tasting and feeling and exploring. The sounds they were generating were loud in the stillness of the hallway; her moans, his groans, her sighs, his murmurs. Her accelerated breathing, his satisfied growls when she tested and tried something new, something that worked. They kept at it for a few more minutes; it might have been hours for, all he knew; and he dragged one hand up and into her hair.
“Ouch,” she gasped, and the fog lifted a little from his brain, enough to clear his mind for a few seconds, enough to make him realize that he was mauling her in the hallway.
“What?” he asked, and this time he was the one who felt dazed.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just my head, against the doorframe. Please, continue with what you were doing. Don’t let me interrupt you…”
He laughed a little and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to get a grip over his hormones. His cock was rock-hard by now, straining against the fly of his jeans. He wanted her so badly, wanted to sink into the softness that was Emily, the gentleness of her embrace. Wanted to teach her everything he knew about lovemaking, demonstrating over and over until she knew exactly what was the best way to fit tab B into slot A.
But she was new, and innocent, and as appealing as the idea was, the small part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought knew that taking her right now, braced against the doorway was not only incredibly stupid (due to the whole public aspect of the milieu) but also extremely selfish. She deserved to be taken slowly, gently, preferably with somebody who would take the time to show her everything she needed to know. And also, a bed would be nice.
“Just give me a minute,” he said, taking deep breaths.
“No! No, no, no! Don’t take a minute; you’re going to change your mind if you do!”
He laughed again. “Not bloody likely,” he said. “Just; just hold on a bit, okay?”
“Okay,” she murmured, circling her arms around his body and leaning against him. Her soft hair tickled his chin as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck. He pulled her inside the apartment and closed the door behind them, almost stepping on her glasses in the process. He picked them up and put them on a little table in the corner, and then turned to look at her.
She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, head bent down so that he couldn’t see her face.
She was radiating shyness, and uncertainty, and just a little bit rejection. Tenderness swirled in him again and he stepped closer to her, allowing himself one swift, hard kiss.
“Look at me,” he said. She lifted her head slowly and he smiled at her.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “don’t even think of arguing with me, not even in your mind. Especially not in your mind. I won’t have anybody, least of all you, think otherwise. I won’t put up with that. You are lovely, and I want you so much it aches. But I want to do what’s right.”
“What would that be?” she whispered, and he cupped her neck, his thumb playing in the hollow of her throat.
“I don’t know,” he admitted ruefully. “Right now I just want to take you to bed, so my judgement is a little cloudy.”
“Do it,” she said. “Please, Brandon. Take me to bed. I’m so tired of wondering, of not knowing what sex is like. I want; I want to know, and I want to learn.” She was quiet for a second. “I want to feel.”
He searched her eyes. “Your first time should be with somebody special,” he objected, knowing that he wouldn’t leave unless she asked him to. Knowing exactly what would happen if he stayed. His beautiful, shy little librarian was about to ask him to make love to her, and he was powerless to deny her anything, least of all what she was offering. He was human, and male, after all.
Emily looked at him with her heart in his eyes. “You are special,’ she said after a few seconds. “You make me feel wanted. Wanton. You make me want to take you to the library and do something in the non-fiction section where nobody ever goes.”
He laughed, a raw sound that was being torn from him as his throat closed up. Had he really thought she would be unresponsive and boring?
“You have to be sure,” he said. “I’m not doing this if you’re not sure.
“I was sure the first time I saw you. I didn’t know what to say except, ‘a glass of whiskey, please’.”
“I’ve never seen a woman drink whiskey like you did before,’ he said with a little smile. “You just sat there, sipping glass after glass of Jameson without making a face, though I’m pretty sure you thought it was disgusting.”
“I hated it,” she admitted.” But I didn’t know what else to order, and I was too shy to ask your advice.”
He made a vow to himself to take her back to the bar one evening and let her have a sip of every single drink he had in stock, until she found something she likes. And then he would mix some cocktails, and teach her about shaken and stirred, and she would never have to drink whiskey alone in a bar again.
He kissed her then, a sweet kiss that wasn’t about passion as much as compassion. He had feelings for her. They were undeveloped yet, but he wasn’t about to deny their existence like some footloose bachelor, afraid of commitment. He didn’t know if it was the right thing, making love to her without giving her the chance to get to know him better, but he knew that he could no more let her go right now than he could cut off his own arm. So he stroked her hair, marveling at the silky feel as his lips taught her a few more secrets and his tongue tasted her again. He slid the strands through his fingers and pulled her head back to taste the skin on her neck.
She tipped her head willingly, giving him better access. He teased her earlobe, nibbling lightly and flicking it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. The silver hoop she was wearing was in his way, so he used his fingers to get rid of it. He tickled the sensitive area behind her earlobe and tasted the dryness of perfume she had dabbed there. It was bitter, and though it smelled like heaven, he wanted to taste Emily, so he traced a line down her neck and across her collarbone, following the line of an imaginary necklace with his tongue, until the last of the perfume had rubbed off on her skin and all he could taste was Emily. Sweet and unique and still a little bit scared.
He explored the hollow between her collarbones, taking his time over it. Her skin was like satin; smooth, silky, and so completely feminine. She moaned, a small sound in the back of her throat as she leaned helplessly against him, her hands around his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She pulled at his head and he went willingly back to her mouth, to kiss and taste and take.
He was never going to get enough of her mouth, he though as he toyed with her lips and let her do the same to him.
She stepped away for a second and crossed her arms in front of her, pulling her sweater over her head in one smooth move. Brandon felt his breath catch in her throat when she stood in front of him in only her thin white chemise-like top and a lacy white bra that pushed her boobs together in the most perfect way imaginable. He stopped her hands when she wanted to take the top off and slid his hands over her body reverently. She was so warm, but despite the heat in the room her nipples were hard, beaded little nubs, straining against the honeyed fabric of her thin top.
He pulled one strap over her shoulder and tasted the skin he unveiled before reaching down and getting rid of the blasted thing completely. And then his hands were in the skin of her softly rounded, perfectly proportioned hips, and her skin was softer and smoother than the silk of the top that had fluttered to the ground and was now lying there, like a pool of sex, on the floor. Brandon looked her in the eyes, and she gazed back unflinchingly, despite the blush that stained her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. Her tits were spilling a little over the lace edge of her bra, something that the designer had undoubtedly taken great pains to accomplish. It was like… froth, he decided as he traced the edge of the material. Or the white foam on top of a wave as it rolled to shore.
He reached behind her, holding her gaze as he undid the clasp of her bra, the movement bringing their bodies together. She made a small sound when he stepped back deliberately and let the bra join the other clothes on the floor.
“You are so lovely,” he said, gazing at her body. She was so completely female, so gloriously, radiantly beautiful, and he couldn’t believe she was standing there, allowing him to desecrate her innocence. He cupped one of her tits, enjoying the way it spilled over his palm just a little. The tip was pale pink, like a very young rose just ready to bud open. He weighed a tit in each hand and was fascinated by the softness and fullness. His thumbs skated over the tips until they were even harder. He wanted to devour her, but this first time was not for him. It was for her, to feel and learn, and experience. To understand, to know, and to enjoy.
“Oh,” she gasped when he bent down and took one nipple into his mouth. Just for a second did he allow himself to be selfish and suckle on it, but then he pulled back and pressed a kiss right in the middle of her cleavage. She moaned a little and moved restlessly, but he didn’t relent. He kissed all over her tit, spiraling teasingly toward the nipple, knowing it would drive her crazy. He rubbed his cheek over the sensitive nub, abrading it lightly with his stubble-roughened skin and laving it unexpectedly with his tongue. He nipped lightly with his teeth, and she moaned again, slightly louder this time as he took his time nibbling it.
“Do what you did again,” she begged him breathlessly.
“And what was that?” he asked, teasing her by drawing his tongue round her nipple without touching it.
“What you did before,” she said incoherently.
“This?” he asked, licking over it once with his tongue flat.
“No,” she said, her head thrown back and her eyes closed.
“This, then?” he wanted to know, flicking it quickly.
“No! you know what I mean!”
He took pity on her. “Is this what you want?” he asked, drawing her into his mouth and suckling hard and sure, playing with his tongue around the tip as he did so.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned; a long, drawn out sound that grabbed at his control.
He picked the pace up after that, forgoing the torture on her other tit and going straight for the good part, sucking the nipple relentlessly until she let go of his hair and put her hands behind her own head, increasing both her vulnerability and her pleasure as she arched her body into his hands and mouth.
She felt something hit the back of her knees and opened her eyes, surprised to find that he had carried her into her bedroom without her noticing it. She was lost in sensations as his mouth travelled across her skin, insistently licking and nibbling, stopping every now and then to explore some new place he wanted to get to know intimately.
She heard him unzipping her pants and lifted her body instinctively to help him get rid of it.
“Brandon,” she sighed when she was laying naked except for her panties; pretty white lace that matched the bra she had been wearing; on her bed, and Brandon was kneeling at the feet of the bed, trying to get rid of her shoes so he could undress her completely.
“Yeah?” His voice was strained with the effort of holding back his passion.
“Come up here for a second,” she whispered. He got rid of her shoe and when he had pulled off her jeans he leaned over her, bracing himself on one knee and both arms immediately.
“Everything okay?” he asked gently, his face showing no sign of the storm raging inside him. He wanted to rush, wanted to hurry, wanted to burry himself in her body, but he was determined not to. This was for her. For Emily. He would have time later to show her unbridled passion. But right now he wanted her to have the most perfect first time any girl has ever had, anywhere.
“It’s perfect,” she smiled up at him, her hair flaring out over her pillows.
“This is a lot better than the last time I undressed you,” he said, grinning.
“What last time?”
“Well, you were fairly drunk, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” he said, tracing a pattern on her tit with his finger; lazy circles and shapes that made her arch a little. “I only took off your coat and your shoes,” he added. “Like I said. This is much better.”
She laughed a little. “I’m still sorry you spent the night on the couch.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’re going to need to get a bigger couch if I’m going to spend the night again.”
She licked over her lips, a small gesture he recognized by now as a sign of nerves, so he waited for her to speak, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cock.
“Why don’t you just use the bed next time?” she asked tentatively. “If you want there to be a next time, that is. I don’t want you to feel I expect anything, or that I presume this, right here, right now, that it means I…”
He cut her off. “What are you talking about, woman?” he asked, but he thought he knew, and he didn’t like the direction of her thoughts.
“I don’t want you to think I expect the fact that you’re making love to me means I will expect more than just that,” she said carefully. “I’m not naïve enough to think this means happy-ever-after.”
“Okay,” he said. “With that cleared up, can we go back to the love-making?”
“By all means,’ she said. He kissed her then, letting her taste a bit of his anger because, damn her, had the thought ever crossed her mind that he might want more? That once might not be enough for him?
She sank back into the fluffy duvet, her arms around him pulling him down with her. She pressed her tit against his upper body. He moaned at the feel of her naked body against his clothed one, especially when she rubbed herself against him.
“You’re overdressed,” she said and he gave a bark of laughter, hurrying to remedy just that. He was out of his shirt in record time, and she leaned up to watch as he struggled a little with his jeans. Getting it past his raging hard-on was a delicate operation, but he managed not to injure himself.
“Let me,” she said when the jean was around his ankles and he started on his black boxer briefs.
She scooted closer to him, dressed only in her lacy white panties, the scent of her arousal wafting through the air.
She was very careful when she slid one hand into the waistband and pulled it away from his body and down. It kept getting stuck on his cock, so she used her other hand to hold his cock out of the way. They both gasped when her fingers touched him. Finally the boxers was around his ankles, so he kicked it and the jeans off and out of the way.
She stared at his cock for a few seconds, her hand hovering as if she wanted to touch it.
“’Can I …” she indicated and he nodded, his throat dry. She touched one finger to his shaft, running it up and down his thick length.
“It’s so hard,” she said, marveling. “and at the same time, it’s so soft. Why is that?”
He moaned something in response as she made a fist around him, testing the thickness and pressing lightly.
“Harder,” he gasped. She did just that, and he groaned. Emily yanked her hand away.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry! I’ve never, you know, seen one. In real life. Tell me what to do.”
“Later,” he gasped and pressed her down on the bed, kissing her senseless as he roamed over her body with one hand. “I’ll let you do whatever you want later. But now I want to show you; do you trust me?”
She blinked up at him.
“Yes,” she said, and the simple word tore through his last resistance. He kissed her with all the passion he’d been holding back, letting her know how much he wanted this, wanted her as he slid one hand down and into her panties.
“You’re shaved,” he said, surprised.
“When I was in my early twenties, I went for permanent hair removal,” she said. “Each time I tried shaving, I wound up cutting myself, so I just decided, screw that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said as he stroked his finger over her hairless mound, testing the softness of her skin before dipping lower.
And then he groaned as his finger was instantly coated in wetness. She was soaking.
She moaned at the strangeness of having somebody else’s finger inside her. He explored the lips, the petals, her clit, before dipping his fingertip inside her and dabbling a little while he kissed her again. She opened her legs wider instinctively, unaware of the eroticism of the movement. He rushed a little as he pulled her panties off and threw them over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs, spreading her knees further as he wedged his shoulders between her thighs.
“Emily, may I go down on you?” he asked formally. Just to be sure.
“You mean; you want to; Yes, all right. You don’t have to, though.”
“It’s not ‘have to’ as much as ‘want to’,” he said. “I want to taste you.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,’ she said, still a little shy.
He used the fingers of one hand to spread her lips and the middle finger of his other hand to dibble inside her again, coating his finger in her juice and spreading it around her cunt. She wriggled a little and gave a small moan. Brandon knew he wasn’t going to last a hell of a lot longer, and he needed to get her off so he could get off. So he honed in on her clit with his finger, rubbing it fast and light, and then hard, and then in tight little circles, trying to find out what she liked best.
Emily closed her eyes and fisted her hands in the duvet as Brandon’s finger did things to her nobody else has ever done. She gave a gasp when he hit just the right spot, and he must have noticed, because he focused on it then, rubbing and tapping at it. A strange need was building inside her. She knew what orgasms feel like; and it was nothing like this. This was an urgency she couldn’t stop, a tidal wave rising from every nerve-end in her body.
“Brandon,” she gasped, clawing at his back to get him to stop. There was something wrong with her; this wasn’t normal. But he didn’t seem to realize her urgency, because then, oh mercy, his mouth was on her pussy, and he was sucking first the one lip and then the other into his mouth before getting to her clit. He moaned a little and muttered something about how good she tasted, but Emily was still fighting the feeling
