Sensitive, Act 03

Act III: Harmonic Convergence

[Author's Note: the following story is the third (and possibly final) act of "Sensitive", which is based on real events from my life. You'll probably enjoy this part a lot more if you read acts 1 and 2 first, because to me, what makes this story special (and what made me decide to remember it by writing about it) is the way each event built on the previous one, and how the tension slowly increased between us with each step we took. I hope I have managed to re-create the build-up of that intensity and excitement for you. As I mentioned in act one's note, there is an act four, which is a continuation of this act. If there is demand, I'll write it. This story -- all three acts of it -- make up my first submissions here, so I welcome any comments or suggestions you have. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed re-living it through writing it.]

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Another week went by.

Things were no different between them, which was good. He knew that if anything was going to happen (and he still wasn't certain that it would) it would only be when it was right for her. He knew this -- and perhaps more importantly, he respected it. To him, it was still a matter of friendship, and no matter what happened -- or did not happen -- their friendship was the most important thing. No, at this point in his life, it was the only thing. And while he desired her like mad he was determined that his animal needs would not come between them or endanger the bonds they shared.

He found himself at her house. They were hanging out together, as usual, and he was sitting on her couch, relaxing and watching whatever happened to be on TV while she was using his laptop. She was checking her email and catching up on things online. He was waiting for her to finish up because his plan was to go home when she was done. Well, she finished, and they watched the end of an episode of Biography on A&E.

She excused herself to go wash her face and change clothes. He guessed she was probably changing into whatever it was she was going to wear to bed. Despite his plans, he didn't want to leave. Honestly, going home just didn't appeal to him at that particular time because it could be a lonely place, and he really didn't feel like returning to its solitude just yet. But if she were ready for bed, it was time for him to leave no matter what he wanted.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a comfy-looking shirt and a pair of the soft, stretchy cotton shorts that fit her legs so perfectly. He found himself wondering -- again -- what it would feel like to have her legs wrapped around him, or be laying down with them spread over his body while she arched her back in ecstasy as she took him deep inside...and he clamped down hard on that thought, bringing it to a crashing halt before he had to explain why he was sitting next to her with a hard-on making a bulge in his jeans.

The Biography episode ended, and they talked about it for a few minutes. They talked a little more, and then she got up from the couch and began to walk back towards her bedroom without saying a word. He followed her without really thinking about it, assuming they would follow their routine of him "tucking her in" and then saying goodnight. She turned off the light and walked over to her bed, pulled the bedspread back and crawled between the covers. He sat down beside her, his legs hanging over the side of the bed.

The remote gave her problems.

She wanted to turn the small TV in her bedroom on, but the remote wasn't working. They spent the next half-hour working on it, replacing the batteries, pressing every button, attempting to determine if the programming of the remote had somehow changed, trying one possible solution after another. Finally it started working (he still couldn't remember exactly what fixed it, one of them finally did whatever it was that needed to be done). She idly flipped through a few channels, but as was usual for this time of the early morning, there was simply nothing worth watching. With a press of a button, the TV went off and out came her laser pointer. She had an attachment that she screwed onto the end of it -- lighting people would call it a gobo -- that made turned the red laser dot into a little picture of a stylized UFO. They played with it for a few minutes in her darkened bedroom, her under the covers, he stretched out on the bed beside her.

He'd taken off his shoes when he had first lay down, though he couldn't remember when he'd decided that he wasn't going to keep sitting next to her when he could get comfortable and lay down. He took his ever-present mobile phone and case off his belt and laid it on the floor. She pulled a pack of gum from the top drawer of her nightstand, one of those types that promised a strong, minty flavor. She took a piece for herself, then offered him one. He accepted, of course, and the gum flooded his mouth with freshness as the strong mint made his tongue began tingle.

"Now it's too quiet in here," she said, and turned on the clock-radio on her nightstand. It wasn't tuned, and the damned thing seemed to resist her every effort to find a good station. Eventually she got it to stay tuned in to one of the local modern rock stations, and she finally relaxed, laying still on the bed.

He turned towards her. She looked at him for a second, then turned away, rolling onto her stomach.He reached out towards her, his hands seeming to move on their own until his fingers touched her shoulders. He let his fingertips drift up so he could massage her neck, pressing his fingers into her skin, slowly working down to her shoulders.

He felt like he was moving too fast, he knew he needed to slow down. He forced himself to relax a bit, finally, and as he did, so did his movements, becoming languid, calming motion.

As his hands worked at her shoulders, finding the knots under her skin and pressing at them, trying to work them out, she groaned, a deep sound, and he leaned forward, one hand moving up to move her hair. He was reminded of the groan she made that evening not so long ago in response to his tongue on her ear, but he tried not to think about what it might mean, concentrating only on giving her a real, relaxing massage.

She reached back to take hold of her hair and move it to one side, exposing the back of her neck to him. Something about that gave voice to her unspoken invitation in the darkness, and he moved closer, pressing his lips to the back of her neck, kissing and flicking the tip of his tongue against her skin.

Rushing, damn it, he knew he was rushing. "Slow down," she said, her words echoing his thoughts. "Slow down, be easy, and then surprise me. Bite me right here." She moved her hand up and point her finger to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

"Blow on my skin, tease me a little," she was guiding him, letting him know what she wanted, and he tried to follow her every instruction. His hands slid over her shoulders as he kissed and licked her skin. Then he drew back, exhaling softly to blow warm breath onto her skin, moving across to that spot she had pointed to and stopped. He pulled back and opened his mouth and dove down to her shoulder, sucking on her skin while biting down hard, sinking his teeth into her flesh.

She jumped, "Ow! Not so hard! Big bites, big bites!"

He opened his mouth wider and bit down again, softer this time. He wasn't sure if he ever got the bite just right. He wanted to, he tried, but wasn't sure he ever opened his mouth just right.

What followed were long moments of touching, kissing, tasting her skin with slow savoring licks of his flattened tongue, interspersed with quick little bites on her neck and shoulders. She moved, her body jerking and turning this way and that, responding to his touch, his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She groaned and made all kinds of delightful noises, sometimes saying words -- sometimes yes, sometimes no, her body always in motion that spoke of her slowly increasing excitement and need.

Even then, the blood was rushing in his veins and roaring in his ears. Even though he was touching her, a part of him couldn't believe it -- and even then, he tried to make no assumptions about where this would lead. Oh, no doubt, he knew where he hoped it would lead, but he lost himself the moment, caught up in the sheer, powerful joy of touching her and the way she moved and growled and cried out.

His hands betrayed him, though.

They moved down her back, tracing over every soft curve, reaching the hem of the shirt she wore, and then sliding under it, needing to feel the smooth warmth of her skin. Her words still guided his hands flowing up and down her back, gentle one moment, then moving more urgently in reflection of the passion that was rising between them. He moved one leg over to straddle her and moved his hands back to her shoulders, pressing his fingers down harder to massage her some more before leaning down to kiss and bite at her neck.

Somewhere in there, time lost meaning. He couldn't say for how long he touched her that way, or just when he began to reach underneath her body to touch her breasts for the first time. They felt perfect, soft and full at the same time, filling his hands with their weight. His fingers found her nipples through the material of her shirt and played with them softly, squeezing and stroking them between his fingertips. She squirmed when his hands touched them, her body almost pulling away. At this point, her shirt was in the way, and obstacle they no longer needed or wanted. Grasping the hem, he pulled it up, but it had a bra or some kind of support built into it. She murmured something, telling him how to undo it. He did, and her shirt came away over her head and he tossed it aside.

Her naked back drew his hands and lips, laid bare before him so. Touching and caressing, trying to touch all of her back at once, he leaned down to kiss and kick where his hands weren't. He tried to keep the bites she wanted in there somewhere. Hungry now, he moved his hands down further, over the rising swell of her ass, the cheeks taut and springy underneath the cotton shorts she wore. They were as perfect to him as the rest of her, and he needed to touch and feel them, there, and lower, his hands drifting down to the tops of her thighs, then between her legs, gently brushing against her sex. That slight touch drew a moan from her, and her whole body bucked in response. He let his fingers brush against her again only to pull them back, tracing over her thighs to return to the small of her back. More long moments passed, filled with touches and almost-frantic caresses, kisses, licks and quick, hard bites where her neck met her shoulders and at random places on her back.

He wanted, no, he needed her naked now, or closer to it than she was. He began to tug her shorts down and she reached back to help him. In a moment they were off, joining her shirt on the floor. The only clothing she wore now was a satiny thong, and it was incredibly sexy, barely hiding anything. The way that thin strip of material snaked between the tight cheeks of her ass...well, there was something about it that made him crave tracing the line of material downward with his fingertips until the felt wetness, her juices having soaked through the material and made her thighs slick. The moisture made the furnace-like heat pour from inside her through the satin as if it weren't there.

He unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them down threw them aside, then tugged his shirt off and tossed it away. Now they were equally clad only in underwear, and he returned to her as quickly as he could, exploring every part of her almost-naked body in an excited, aroused rush of pressing touch, loving the way their bodies felt together, the way her hot skin felt on his.

He learned something about her, something she did that took him a few moments to understand. Everyone has words or phrases they say when they are aroused. Everyone has something, or things, that say when they are being touched in a way that turns them on. One of the things she said was, "Oh, no, no, no..." At first, he thought she was telling him to stop what he was doing, but no, it wasn't that. In the same way some people say, "Oh, yes, yes, yes!" she would sometimes say, "Oh, no, no, no..." Not always, no, but sometimes, those were the words that escaped her lips as his hands touched her, as he sucked and licked her soft, yielding skin.

Now he was lying beside her, on the opposite side from where they began. He let his hands slide down her back to her ass, exploring her body, delighting in the feel of her, the way his touch was exciting her, pleasing her. He squeezed his hands down on her ass, cupping one cheek, then the other, clasping them tightly and massaging with his fingers and pressing against her small, soft globes with his palms. Every now and then he slid his fingers between her thighs, lightly touching there, brushing his fingertips against her sex. His need for her was growing, and the way her voice rose higher, more insistent, he could sense her need was growing as well.

Knowing, or at least thinking he knew, he hooked his fingers around the elastic satin of her thong and tugged downward, slowly pulling it from between the cheeks of her ass then sliding it down her thighs and over her knees until it pulled free. With a flick of his wrist, her thong arced across her bedroom to the floor.

He would liked to have taken longer, he would later think, to drink in the sight of her gloriously naked body laying face-down on her bed. She was beautiful. He had told her that before, a simple admission of how he saw her, a compliment with no hidden meaning. She reacted to it then as he expected her to now, by dismissing it as untrue. Even though he expected her to say that again, he couldn't help saying it. She was, to him, truly a beautiful person, and he spoke the words that were in his heart, "You are...truly beautiful."

"If you say so," came her reply.

He let it drop, knowing she would probably never see herself the way he saw her. So, in silent appreciation, he looked at her in all her glory, and knew just how wondrous she was.

After several long moments of memorizing every line and curve that made up her sensuous body, something snapped in them both. Suddenly, touch was the only thing they both craved, a pure, primal need for sensation. There remained no questions about what was happening, or what they both wanted from each other at that moment. So touch her he did, silently speaking to her body with his fingers and hands, letting them flow up and down her body, taking several heartbeats to touch where he hand touched before, her skin warmer now under his fingers. Downward he slid his hands, guided by her voice and the restless motion of her body, the way her hips churned and a gnawing, growing hunger and a pure desire to meet her every need.

Arching his arm, he dipped his between her thighs and stretched out his fingers to touch, for the first time, the soft wetness of her naked sex to feel the burning heat of her pussy. The air escaped her lungs, rushing out in a groan until she found her voice, "Oh, no, no, no," she cried out as she rocked her hips back, pressing herself to his fingers as they danced against her soft lips. He slid his fingers against her folds then pressed inward, sliding into her entrance. The liquid heat that met his fingertip drew him further inside her while he moved his other finger down to find the hard little node of her clit and press against it. She cried out a little, bucking back, then away, then back again, her voice rising higher and her movements becoming more frantic. She called his name then pled, "Please! I want..."

"You want what?" he asked, knowing full well what her unspoken request was.

He didn't think either of them were truly at that point, yet. No, he wanted them both at a burning, fevered pitch before going any further. Right now he was only concerned with giving her pleasure, wanting nothing more to drive her insane with sensations and feelings. He wanted to show her the purest, most intense ecstasy he could and share that purity with her. So he stretched out his finger and pressed, sliding it into her, the wetness making it effortless.

Her warmth welcomed his finger deep inside. He felt her muscles clench down to hold him inside. As much as he could, he pressed down with the length of his finger, trying to put pressure on that place hidden deep inside that he knew could unlock powerful, white-hot sensations. His other finger pressed and slid against her clit, moving around it in a tight circle.

Her voice became a rapid-fire series of cries and she moved back against his hand. While her cries let him know he was making her feel good, he wanted her to feel more, to experience sheer, joyous release. He began to pull his finger from inside her and then pushed it back in. But it just wasn't right. He couldn't press where he wanted to with his hand the way it was, so he slid his finger from within her and turned his hand over, his palm facing down, then slid his fingers back into her depths. Now he could press down against that hidden place inside and her response was instant: she drove her hips back, driving his finger into her while he arched it downward, wanting to touch her in some way that would truly let her feel something wondrous. His other finger was restless on her clit, needy, trying to draw an intensity of sensation from her. He felt her fingers seeking so he moved his out of the way so she could touch her clit for a moment. Then she pulled her fingers away and he immediately moved his back, not wanting a second to go by that he wasn't giving her his touch.

She was on her knees now, and he was using his finger like a little cock, fucking her pussy with it, driving it into her as hard as she pushed back onto it. He wanted to shatter her world, to drive away reality and leave nothing but electric sensations running through her body. He felt the quiver in the walls of her pussy and heard her voice crescendo up, higher and higher. He hoped that she was close, desperate as he was to share a moment of pure beauty with her. She stopped moving and cried out, her voice ringing off the walls with a scream of animal pleasure as a hard convulsion racked her body. She froze in place, shuddered, then fell limply to the bed. Her body trembled as she lay helplessly shivering as the aftershocks of her orgasm echoed through her.

"Oh my god," she whispered in a shaking voice, "I've never had an orgasm like that from someone just fingering me."

He could not speak, he could not find the words to say at that moment. He lay on top of her and gently moved his finger inside her. She protested, so he slowly pulled his finger from her depths. After soothing her, he pulled her into a warm, secure embrace and for several long, silent heartbeats...simply held her in the slowly fading twilight of her room.