There were years and years between everything- between the beginning and the middle and now. Years and years of thinking that I was just some little girl who never entered your radar, I was too loud and you were so couth. I laughed too much. But then, after years and years, do you remember? I came to your house, to your party, and I brought some forgettable guy fawning at my elbow, and everyone was drunk and then- do you remember this? You sat next to me and said, “I don’t know what it is, it’s not your perfume or your shampoo, you just have this smell I can’t describe that drives me crazy.”
I blushed, laughed too fast. You touched my knee. The forgettable guy pretended not to notice. You looked at me, you had this look you gave me then. And then when no one was paying attention you went into your room and you waited for me to follow you and I knew it was finally going to happen, god, all these years I had wanted you so badly- replayed fantasies and eyes shut tight in bed. You’ll never know how many times you made me cum before you ever touched me. I thought I was going to disappear.
Do you remember what it was like that moment when I came in? When I closed the door to the noise and the people behind me and it was just you and me and this unbearableness? Who stepped toward who? Oh, god. But then one of us did, anyway, and there were no words and just us and that first kiss was all those years and at first you were so soft with me but you could feel under my skin how much I wanted you to swallow me whole. I was so desperate for you, and oh my god, that kiss- do you remember? But you didn’t grope me, you didn’t grab my tits or my ass. Your hands were strong and heavy on my shoulders and your mouth tasted familiar even then. I wanted you to gather me up and lay me down and spread me open there. And then. But you are nothing if not patient.
And we moved, do you remember? We moved to sit on your bed, neither of us noticing anything but the other, and you reached over and grabbed my hand and you kissed me again, harder, more insistently. And I pressed back.
And then, just then, your bed, covered in coats, moved- and we realized we were not alone, and there he was, our friend, sitting up, having slept it off and asking us what was going on? And there were knocks on the door and people asking for you, and the Forgettable Guy started wondering where I was, and I exchanged a few urgent glances with you and then I left.
I thought maybe you were just drunk, that this was all some mistake, some delusion. And then, remember? You called me. That next day, with the weirdness and urgency of the night before gone, could you tell how nervous I was? You asked me to come over again that night.
“Wear something that shows off your neck” said my gay best friend, “you have a great neck.”
And then I was there, wearing something that showed off my neck, and it was you and I, same as we had always been except now there was no one else around and how do we do this? It wasn’t awkward, though. It was never awkward with you. I sat on your couch and you leaned over and kissed me and all the urgency of the night before came rushing back but now there was the knowledge and pressure and nervousness that nothing else was going to stop this from happening now. This time your hands were all over me, twisting my nipples between your fingers, cupping my ass through my jeans. I felt my hips start to make involuntary undulations. You kissed me all down my neck and collar bone and breathed hot and then cool on my skin. “Take me to bed,” I whispered, through my throat, and flicked my tongue behind your earlobe. Do you remember?
Oh, I was never so slick before. So fluid. And you looked at me and you didn’t laugh and I didn’t laugh and you took my hand and lifted me off the couch so I stood in front of you and you kissed me and pushed my hips backward and into your bedroom. You guided me to the bed until the backs of my knees touched the mattress and you ran your hands underneath my shirt, the dry rushing sound of your skin on mine.
I felt you reaching around my back and unhooking my bra, and then you were palming my breasts and rubbing my nipples with your thumbs, still kissing me. Your tongue was moving faster in my mouth and I finally reached down and unbuttoned your pants and moved my hands over the zipper. Oh, god, you were huge. And hard. When I opened your zipper your cock sprung into my hand- heavy and warm and alive. Did I hear you moan as I took it and squeezed it in my palm? As I snaked my other hand into your boxers and stroked your balls? You pulled off my shirt and I shimmied out of my bra. I held my tits up and together and slid myself slowly down your body until I knelt on the floor looking up at you, my back pressed up against the bed, my hands pulling your pants down to your knees.
Oh, cock! Oh, your cock! It was smooth and clean and perfect. Hard as glass, hard as steel, harder than I thought flesh could be. Nine inches, at least, and too thick for one hand to circle. I wanted you all over me, in my mouth, in my ass, in my pussy, in my hand, between my tits. I felt like needed your cock pounding me everywhere all at once, as hard and as deep as possible. But before I could begin, before I could feel that rosy head rubbing the back of my throat, even before lips touched tip, you lifted me up. Remember?
You pulled up my elbows and pushed me onto the bed, onto pillows and sheets and no coats this time. My tits rocked back and you tore at my jeans with the deftness of a surgeon and before I knew what had happened my panties and jeans were on the floor and there I was with you above me. You held my right shoulder down and you slid your other hand down my side, across my belly, and finally, oh, god, oh god, finally, over the crest of my labia and onto my clit. Do you remember how wet I was? How my clit was buzzing with electricity when you touched it? How my back arched and my knees shook as you touched me? I had both hands around your cock and I was slipping them one at a time over each other and sliding them down the shaft and over the head, like climbing a rope. Your pants were still around your ankles when you leaned in and first touched my wet, tight little hole with that massive cock. First it was just the tip, your fingers still stroking my clit, my hands running over your shoulders. Just the tip, just the tip. I needed all of it, oh god, oh god. And then the first few inches. You stretched me so far open I thought I would bleed, I wanted to bleed. I needed all of it, though, did you think I couldn’t take it? I needed to take it. I forced my hips up beneath you, trying to suck in even one more precious inch of it. But you are nothing if not patient. Agonizingly patient. You pushed it into me slowly, in one long and fluid movement as you looked down at me. It was the first time someone had ever bottomed out inside me, your glans crashing into my cervix while your pelvis ground into my clit. “Oh, god, Daddy…” I breathed.
You were slow at first, pulling out almost all the way before you pushed back in. I put my hands on your ass and pulled you into me. How was I supposed to tell you I wanted you to never pull out? I wanted you to break through my cervix and fuck every inch of the inside of me until your cock came out my throat. Did you know? From agonizingly slow to frenzied in a half second. You were so strong. And was I screaming? Everything was melted together, you and me and outside and inside- all I knew was fast and hard and thinking you were about to push me through the bed to the floor and I would fall and I didn’t care as long as you stayed on top of me fucking me.
With you I felt so desperate, clawing at you to cling to you and panicky that I was right at the edge of this thing an inch beneath the visible. Did you hear the sharp intake of breath at the beginning? I breathed, and then I came so hard it would leave me shivering and unsettled for days afterward. You squeezed my breast, your face was next to mine, and it was like the wind was knocked out of me as I lay beneath you paralyzed and waiting to feel the hot, sweet jet of your cum inside me, knowing that I’ll have it dripping down my thigh later when I have left. But right now, it’s that moment between moments, and I just want to leave it here, where this me in this story is in bed with you, in the throes of the unspeakable, for years and years and years.
