She supposed that she should have been surprised when their lips met that first time at the conclusion of a Friday evening at her house spent talking, sipping wine, and contemplating the approaching Christmas holiday, her first as a single woman again. It had started out with an impulsive good-bye kiss by the door leading to the garage before he faced the cold night and went home to Vince, the man who had shared his life for seven years but had gone alone to his work group’s Christmas party that evening, ever worried that coming out as a gay man to his fellow teachers would jeopardize his job. One gentle kiss had led to deeper kisses, until they were necking like a couple of teenagers and out-of-breath from the sudden and unanticipated excitement. Eventually they were back on the living room couch, hands roaming underneath sweaters and fingers furtively exploring waistbands, trying to decipher the combination of buckles, buttons, snaps, and zippers that might eventually pose an obstacle.
As his hand stroked the bare skin of her smooth belly and finally reached up to cup one bra-covered breast, she had wondered briefly if she would be called upon to teach him about a woman’s body, a role she had never assumed before. She had married the first man she had slept with, and he had been the older, more experienced partner, assuming the dominant role in their sexual relationship at first. She hadn’t been with a man since moving out of the house a year earlier that she and Terry had shared.
However, Randy hadn’t been shy or hesitant as he undressed her that night, his hands caressing her with slow, langorous strokes as he removed her sweater and her bra, his fingers deft as he reached behind her to unfasten the row of hooks. His lips seemed experienced as they left a silken trail down her neck, followed the curve of her collarbone, and nuzzled the cleft between her breasts. In no rush to move heatedly to other things, he drew each nipple gently between his lips, coaxing first one and then the other into taut, swollen arousal. When she thought she could stand no more, he cupped her breasts with both hands and brought them together, his tongue dancing over one hard, aching nipple and then the other.
She had arched her back and whimpered, the intensity of her pleasure nearly painful. “Please, Randy!” she had pleaded, her voice a husky whisper. “It’s been so long! I can’t be left hanging like this tonight.” A wave of confusion and hopelessness washed over her at the blatant desperation in her voice, and she closed her eyes against the hot threat of tears. What did she possibly expect him to do about her plight?
He took her warmly into his arms, his bare torso electrifying against her own fevered skin, and murmured, “Don’t worry, we won’t leave you hanging,” and then eased her back on the couch. She drew in shuddery breaths as he unfastened her jeans and slid them down her legs. As he drew her panties down and dropped them beside her jeans on the floor, she expected that he would move to lie on top of her between her splayed thighs in response to her pleas for release. And she was prepared to let him.
But, no, this was no typical man!
He had slid off the couch and to his knees beside her, kissing her belly, the curve of her waist, moving lower, and lower still. His hands coaxed her legs apart as he kissed the soft inner surface of each thigh, moist with the abundant fluid of her arousal. And then his mouth was there, hungry and eager. His tongue probed and explored all of her secret places, savoring the textures and flavors. He sucked and tugged gently on her, caressed the center of her with swirling, penetrating licks, and finally, at long last, sought her most sensitive spot, making broad, rhythmic sweeps over it.
She had shuddered violently and cried out as his mouth sent wave after wave of incredible pleasure surging through her. His tongue did not stray from its mark until every last spasm had had its way with her. And even then, he continued to nuzzle her gently with his lips, those soft, sporadic kisses wringing unexpected tremors from deep within her.
He seemed content to stay where he was, and she had closed her eyes, holding his head gently in her hands and stroking his hair as his lips continued to move softly and slowly against her. She had already had a very powerful orgasm, but those kisses bestowed so tenderly, so intimately, on the most sensitive part of her being were exquisite beyond words. So giving, so loving, so undemanding…
She gave herself over to the pleasure gently radiated through her, her head falling back against the couch pillows, her thoughts not on whether or not she would come, whether or not he would come, whose turn it was to do what to whom. Her babbling mind uncharacteristically silent, she just felt the warmth, the sensuality of it all, and immersed herself in it. There was nothing else for those moments but the feel of his coarse hair beneath her hands, the delicate sound of his caressing lips, the incredible sensation of his mouth covering her and gently drawing her in, holding her for a moment, then letting her slip away between his lips. Drawing her in, oh so tenderly, letting her go, again and yet again, very much like she might do to him. His tongue then lightly brushed her clitoris, so engorged and amazingly, unbelievably more sensitive than before.
Her hips began to move with abandon, and he was there with her, instinctively quickening his pace, taking his cues from her writhing movements like an expert dancer. A second, even more intense orgasm exploded inside her, and she cried out again, her eyes wide with the sudden, startling force of it. Once again, he rode with her to the finish, bringing her down gradually from the dizzying heights.
As the room around her came back into focus, she realized the tears streaming from her eyes, and she opened her arms to him, wanting to hold him tightly to her. He had eased back onto the couch, covering her naked body with his own and stroked the damp hair from her forehead, kissed away the trail of tears on her face. His penis was rock-hard against her thigh…