tagErotic CouplingsMy Selfishness

My Selfishness

byJRLover©

"Lower," she said. It wasn't a command, it wasn't a desire. It was somewhere in between, and the way that word rolled off her tongue I knew that her mind was no longer even cognizant of the true meaning of the word. It was an extension of her will.

"Lower."

So I moved, as I promised I would. I became a creature to her, a shapeless form that did little else but apply the exact amount of pleasure she desired in each and every dose that she wanted. My fingers roamed across her hips, up her sides. I would occasionally tease her breasts if I could reach that far, and then I would return once more to my concentration. It was her thighs that hid the pleasure well, and she would beg me in a sort of sweet agony to touch them as I worked my magic. But I did not. I left the best parts alone so she could beg in ecstasy. I just wanted to hear those words transform into a guttural speak of pure desire. Lower.

We began only moments before, when I initiated the conversation. I think she would have snorted her drink if she had not placed one hand so quickly and readily over her mouth and really taken a breath. I've always been this blunt. What is the point of subtlety when it comes to life's desires? That moment is a shade now, the room a shadow. All I remember is her face, her eyes bright and blue as they searched the seriousness in my face.

"You're kidding," she said. She knew I wasn't.

"I'm not," I answered. I did my best to smile but I was all seriousness in that moment. You can't be too playful when you are talking about such things.

"More than sex, you miss it?" she asked me. I could tell she couldn't believe a guy would honestly use these words, in this exact format, and not expect a sort of recompense. "You are just baiting me."

"Hey you asked me what I missed most, and I'm telling you. It's been, what, four years since I've last had sex? And only one since the last time I had cunnilingus. Honestly I miss licking pussy more than having intercourse," I replied.

"You still talk like a book. I hope all that reading has helped you out in some way," she said with a nervous smile.

"I really hope so too. If thinking about it is enough, then that counts. Obsessing, really," I answered.

She looked around the room before continuing the conversation, suddenly remembering that we were at an office party. She pulled me in to the alcove of a side room and lowered her voice, although I knew there was no one around. Her earrings dangled and caught the light and she flashed her nervous smile again. I only remember thinking in different variations of the word 'cute' to describe her.

"At least you used that word, instead of the other one," she laughed in her low tone.

"Which?"

"Cunnilingus. This isn't a classroom and I'm not a shy girl. You can say pussy licking, or 'eating out.' I won't fall over in embarrassment," she said.

It was my turn to chuckle. "You're right, I'm sorry. I guess I'm a bit nervous and I sort of revert to this business casual talk. I don't mean to be so formal," I said.

"You'll confess to me your love of licking pussy but you're embarrassed to use the actual words. What sort of man are you? I hope you aren't desperate," she said.

"In a way I would say I am. It's just been too long," I replied.

"So even if I hiked my skirt up right here and asked you to ride me, or I unbuckled your belt and took your cock right now, you'd be the proper man and push me away so you could have your 'cunnilingus?'" she asked, and smiled coyly.

I nodded and smiled. Then her eyes turned to a sort of serious that I had never seen before, and she lead me into one of the corner temp offices, where the interns worked in the summer. I could still hear the soft clamor of the party behind us, the clinking of glasses, the low-tone speech, the elevator music. When we arrived in the small simple room (that contained nothing more than an office desk, a single stuffed chair, and various odds and ends of office equipment not in use) she stopped and turned around slowly.

"Suddenly I'm the one who is nervous," she said.

I felt my sweaty palms and my heart beating in my chest and had to remind myself that I was twenty-nine. That's when I recalled that I didn't even know her age, not that it mattered. My mind often fluttered to nonsense when I became nervous. It was usually my tell with the salesmen, but in this room with this beautiful, tall woman who smelled of perfume and alcohol, it was something else entirely. Would I be so brave?

"I know what you mean. Suddenly I'm having prom flashbacks that are setting chills down to my feet," I replied.

She giggled. "You know, I'm usually not this forward. Maybe its the alcohol, but I don't think so. I've had this sort of, crush, on you for a while now. I've been teased about it a bit by the other girls, they can be so vapid. You don't want to hear what they say. All that matters is how I feel," she said. "You know I'm not really sure what it is. I should just stop talking."

I nodded and loosened my tie, trying to breathe. I realized afterward that it could be taken another way entirely.

"Chalk this up to adventure. How often do we lose our inhibitions?" she asked, though I knew the question was rhetorical. I wondered if I was still in the room for her, and then she sat down in the chair. She slipped off her skirt in one simple pull, and I imagined her practicing that trick in another time, in many other places. I placed my hands on the elastic of her white lace panties.

"I just don't act on what I want enough. I've had enough of this sort of life I think. Day in and day out and, oh, yeah, sorry I'm sort of tickling there. The good kind. God why am I still talking about my life complaints when you are pulling down my panties?" she asked me.

I smirked in the near darkness. I had the lace material around her knees when she closed her mouth and let nothing through her lips but air. A quietness took over that was sort of deafening, a third creature in the darkness besides us that was waiting to be shooed away. And I knew it would only be a manner of time. I let my mind go blank as I dropped her panties delicately on the floor near her skirt. That's when I placed my clammy hands on her thighs and really concentrated.

At first she just stared at me, more so out of a personal curiosity then intimidation, which is what I felt at first. Then I think she understood because she relaxed and allowed me to just exist, and I began to move as her body sunk into the softness of the chair and her mind melded into the pleasures of her self.

I inhaled. "I did truly miss this," I said quietly. I could almost hear the smile in her reply. "At least you are an honest man. If quirky. Though quirky can be good. Good."

I never knew her to talk so much. As I let my lips hover just centimeters from her skin I wondered why I had not approached her before. What is the sort of trepidation that keeps us from these sort of couplings, from desire? Two people, pooling their thoughts and desired touches into a moment of ecstasy and enjoyment. It should be simple.

I let my fingers walk slowly up her naked thighs, and her entire body shivered. I was met with the immediacy of prickled flesh, and I rubbed the palms of my hands flat over he skin until I felt her relax. Then my tongue was out, and quickly and unexpectedly I had my first taste. I knew she was wet, I could smell it on her. She tasted just like she smelled. Heady, lightly sweet on my tongue. I could taste her sweat and that musky flavor that always hits your tongue right after you linger from licking a pussy for just a moment. So I licked again, and again, taking cues from her moaning, from the melting away of her words.

My face drifted in closer, and I took the full length of her slit with the flat of my tongue. I could feel her body try and rise out of the seat, for her pleasure to escape her body in a ghost and float somewhere in the ether of that small room in order to watch us. I gently held her down by her thighs, moving upward towards her breasts and just touching them gently in a calming manner. I licked her again, and again, until the high of the initial touch came down, and her low cries and moans subsided to whimpers.

I let my hands massage the naked skin on her legs, to pull her into me as I went into her. She writhed in her seat, and I kept just enough weight on her to stay in control. My tongue dipped into her pussy, lapping at her wetness and pulling at her pleasure. With each small coo and hint I would change the sweeps of my tongue to match her, to give her a tempo that she could control just with her voice. And then, when she became used to my ministrations, to the licking of my tongue and the gentle kisses of my lips on her pussy, I lapped at her clit.

A scream, desperately caught by the hands that fluttered quickly to her mouth, sought to escape into the darkness. I licked again and again, unceasing, and the waves of her first orgasm rippled through her so strongly I could feel the effects from her thighs against my palms. I allowed her the full enjoyment of her release, dipping back into her as she came down, then just when the last ripple faded my tongue was there again to taste the hardened bead of pleasure. Again she came, weaker this time and yet her moans were louder, and she pressed her face deep in to the crook of her arm as I took my own enjoyment from being so deep in the center of her being.

There were words, and there were sounds, but I could not distinguish one from another as I continued, because my obsession was true and needed. It was for her, truly, the pleasure that she felt. But the deed of being there, with my tongue inside her, my mouth working her, my lips grazing her skin and the hair that grew upon it, that was all for me. My own desire was the taste, the smell, the act of extracting such a fountain of pleasure from another person. The room became thick with sounds, with smells, with the rippling shadows of her moving body. I let my fingers roam the naked skin once more, this time never ceasing, and my tongue dove in again and again to find the flavor in that wet place.

Time stopped, and we were alone in our actions as I sought to bring everything out of her that I could. I licked the lengths of her folds, tasting her in completeness. I brought the lips of her pussy between my lips and revered them, suckling gently and releasing. My hands never left the range of her legs and sides while my mouth did its duty, its desire, its job. It become nothing more than an effect after a while, an unconscious movement without form or practice. I did not know if I was good. I did not know if I was the best she ever had or what she thought to care about my place in her life or her world. It was enough to share in that moment and extract such sublime pleasure form someone and to taste the reality of joy between another person's legs.

After a symphony of orgasms faded and she came down from the high, that silence crept back in as though it had never left. She opened her eyes and smiled, finally staring back down at me.

"That was...I don't know if I have words for that," she said.

"I should say thank you. Truly its a passion of mine. I did say how much I enjoyed doing that. You were just kind enough to give in to my selfishness," I replied.

She laughed at that, and stood up on shaky legs. I supported her as she slipped on her panties and skirt once more, and we returned to the party. No kiss, no hug, just a simple and enjoyable exchange. But I knew it would happen again, and I would seek others. It was an experience that should be passed on. We returned to the party in silence, smiles on both our faces, and yet we were the only ones. I wanted it again, already.

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