Dilated Depths: Luke's Journey

For the second time in less than a day, I found myself naked with a man. This time, however, it was Luke.

His hands, perpetually gentle and deliberate, worked their magic as we continued our intimate session. We lay intertwined, our bodies fully exposed, yet our engagement was confined to kisses and touches. This was until Luke's right hand embarked on a journey down to my left breast. That particular one. The one I had always been so self-conscious about. It wasn't a mirror image of its twin - plump, perky, sporting a perfectly positioned nipple. Instead, it was tuberous, elongated, leaning sideways, its nipple seemingly pointing towards the earth. An ex-boyfriend, during an especially bitter argument, had dubbed it my "Tom Brady boob" - not inflated to regulation. While the analogy was imaginative, it was a characterization I absolutely despised.

However, it was this one, my metaphorical ugly duckling, that Luke chose to touch first. His hand skimmed it gently, before kneading it affectionately. Was he genuinely fond of it? Then, he started planting soft kisses along my neck, down my collarbone, onto my breast, until he reached my nipple. He laid a gentle kiss on it before taking it between his lips, giving it a delicate squeeze. It was enlightening. Most guys would touch it, recoil almost immediately. But Luke, he was taking his time with it, and that exhilarated me more than anything else.

I reached up and brought his face to mine, kissing him fervently. Luke, the consummate gentleman, allowed his hand to wander further down, gliding past my immaculate breast, along my belly, and finally reaching my groin. He slid his middle finger across my damp folds. I believe he understood. All the while kissing me, he carefully swung his right leg over my right one, then his left, hovering just above me.

He halted, breaking our kiss, and asked, "Ready?"

I nodded.

That's one of the things I adore about Luke. He never presumes that I'm prepared for intercourse, he always inquires.

Another aspect I appreciate about him is that despite his age, and his size relative to other men I've been with, his penis, when erect, is incredibly firm. Jeff may have resembled a Greek God, but Luke's erection was akin to a piece of marble, hard and unyielding.

Once I confirmed my readiness, Luke delicately lowered himself onto me. In a seamless, assured motion, he was filling me. I could never comprehend how in films, men always seemed to penetrate effortlessly. I assumed it was some Hollywood fantasy until I met Luke. But it was amusing to contemplate that perhaps all the men in Hollywood were as humbly equipped as Luke.

"Damn," he groaned.

"Yeah?" I inquired, hoping his outburst was a favorable one.

"You're way more receptive than usual," he expanded. "Guess it's been a while for both of us, huh?"

His words cut me to the core, but all I could reply was, "Yeah, it's been a while."

His initial thrusts were slow and tender, a rhythmic dance of careful penetrations and withdrawals. Being with Luke was always...satisfying. It was akin to a serene, intimate massage.

I prepared myself for a swift climax. After all, we hadn't been together for a month, and Luke wasn't the sort to seek fleeting encounters or even self-gratification. Then, however, he took me by surprise.

Luke began to swivel his hips in a figure-eight pattern, his cock following the same motion within me. Suddenly, he felt larger, more defined. The sensation was unexpected, yet electrifying.

I could feel my wetness increasing. Even though Luke didn't hit certain spots that others could, his innovative technique was an exhilarating alternative.

The surprise excitement coupled with the rhythmic thrusts brought me to a modest orgasm. Luke must have detected his triumph because he maintained his rhythm, whispering, "You can play with yourself if you like."

Accepting his invitation, I began to rub my clit while he continued his rhythmic rotations. A minute later, I climaxed again, this time the waves of pleasure were much stronger.

Gasping in delight, barely conscious of my surroundings, I heard Luke ask, "Hey, Kai, can I try something different?"

"Anything," I managed to exhale.

"Okay," he replied, withdrawing his hard cock from me.

"Wait, no," I objected, but he simply hushed me and plunged back in. Then he withdrew once more, then back in. He initiated a new pattern - a complete withdrawal followed by a powerful thrust. It didn't provide the same sensation as other men penetrating me, but it was spectacular. I felt stretched, potent. His modest yet rigid length sliding in and out of me, our bodies slapping together rhythmically.

With every thrust, I was propelled closer to the edge. Now, he was maintaining a rapid pace of two thrusts per second. Out and in, entirely.

Finally, I came with a resounding moan and an intense orgasm.

"Holy shit," I gasped, struggling to catch my breath, "that was amazing!"

But Luke was far from done. He maintained his rhythm even throughout my climax.

Guided by primal instinct, my hand sought out my pulsating clit. I fervently began to rub myself, leading to another breathless "Oh, fuck!" as a new orgasm crashed over me.

Witnessing my pleasure peak time and time again, Luke decelerated his pace, gently guiding me down from the precipice of my potent ecstasy.

Panting and regaining my breath, I believed we were done, but then Luke murmured, "Now, give me your hand." He gently directed my left hand downwards, signaling towards my middle finger. I understood what he was implying. Even though I had never been a fan of self-fingering, the unexpected intrusion of a solitary finger, I decided to play along.

I slipped my middle finger into my slick heat.

"Stay there," Luke instructed softly. I obeyed, and then, to my astonishment, he slid his humble length back inside me, alongside my finger.

His innovative technique engulfed me with fresh sensations. The rotating, the thrusting, the rubbing, and now this. It was as if I was with a whole different Luke.

With my finger adding to his width, the sensation became significantly more intense. As he resumed his steady rhythm, I began to emit soft moans synchronized with each of his thrusts.

At his slow pace, my moans were discrete, more like soft sighs.

But then realization struck me. This was the first time during our entire session that I was vocalizing while he was buried within me. A twinge of guilt gnawed at me, that my volume was escalating just because of the added thickness. To mask this, I decided to exaggerate my moans, hoping he hadn't made the same observation.

My moans amplified, becoming more akin to the noises I usually made with other men.

However, my cries were soon drowned out by Luke's. Then, with a final groan, I felt three pulses of his release against my embedded finger. I had never experienced a man's climax against anything other than my inner walls.

He paused a moment, still embedded within me, before gently withdrawing. His exit was followed by a trickle of his warm release. When I removed my finger, the remainder--just a few droplets--followed, sliding downwards, pooling around my other entrance, and staining the sheets.

A jolt of erotic excitement coursed through me as I realized a few of his tiny droplets were tucked away in the small folds surrounding my untouched back entrance.

Luke and I lay there for a brief spell, both of us panting for breath. Never before had I experienced such powerful orgasms, especially not from penetrative sex. My past peaks of pleasure had all been self-induced. But Luke... he'd somehow managed to decode the enigma. I'd transitioned from a woman who had never reached an orgasm during penetration, to a woman who had been catapulted to ecstasy a remarkable four times.

Eventually, Luke gathered enough strength to get up and shuffle off to shower, leaving me sprawled out across the bed, my naked skin exposed to the cooling air.

I didn't stir. No sheets, no covers, just me, sprawled out, bare and sated on our disheveled sheets. I could feel the remnants of Luke's climax trailing down to my untouched backdoor, a warm, damp path that caressed my tight opening before pooling onto the bed. I always adored the sensation of a man's release coursing over my untouched entrance, but usually it was too much; with Luke, it felt like a gentle whisper. Even my own arousal hadn't completely ebbed away, leaving a sheen of wetness on my inner thighs. My hand, still resting where it had landed after our final round, felt the soothing warmth radiating from my sated core.

A wave of contentment washed over me. I felt thoroughly claimed, but not in the painful, rough way I had experienced the previous night. I felt open, widened, receptive, completely surrendered. The sensation was one of being genuinely desired and taken. The term 'fucking' now held a new connotation for me. Previously, I had felt used, drilled. But Luke... he'd taken his sweet time. There was no urgency, no desire to dominate, just pure, mutual pleasure.

There was a feeling of being exhausted but not shattered; intimately filled but not invaded; devoured but never exploited. But above all, I felt understood. Luke had listened to me. He'd asked the right questions, sought my consent, and explored new techniques just to ensure I was deriving pleasure. Unlike others who had hurried through the act, he was patient, ensuring I was always comfortable.

I reached out for my phone, fingers still quivering slightly, and quickly texted my girlfriends. "Hey ladies! Everything went stellar with Luke. Gonna treat him to lunch!"

Luke emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp and his skin flushed from the hot shower. His lean form was starkly naked in front of me, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His small cock seemed to shrink away from my gaze, but honestly, I found his vulnerability utterly endearing. It filled me with a sense of warmth.

Luke and I ended up enjoying a pretty substantial lunch. We'd both worked up a hefty appetite. The meal was pleasant, nothing ground-breaking, but still enjoyable. However, when he announced he had to depart, I immediately inquired about when I would see him again. His response? "As soon as possible." I nudged him about the upcoming weekend, but he informed me he would be out of town for work.

"But the weekend after," he added, "I haven't forgotten it's your birthday."

I was startled. "Oh wow! I didn't even realize you knew when my birthday was."

He smirked slightly. "I asked around. And trust me, if I can pull off the birthday present I have in mind, you're gonna be over the moon."

"Ooh, now you've piqued my interest. I can't wait."

We shared a lingering kiss before he climbed into his car and drove off.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers racing over the screen. I had to spill the beans to my girls about this.

Predictably, the girls were all gathered together in the dining hall when I got back to campus. They were deeply engrossed in their typical weekend gossip, but the moment they spotted me, their chatter ceased. A chorus of excited greetings met me as I neared.

"Spill it," Samantha commanded. "Your text about Luke left us all on edge."

"Yes, girl!" Jackie chimed in.

"We need all the juicy details," Rebecca added.

"Trust me, I can't wait to share," I responded. "But first, I need some caffeine."

I grabbed a Coke from the nearby vending machine and returned to the table.

Then, with anticipation so thick you could cut it with a knife, I started to unwind the story of my day with Luke. I glossed over the explicit details, but made sure to highlight each climax, each delightful shiver, and every moment I realized that Luke was different. He genuinely cared. He listened.

The girls were astounded. They liked their boyfriends, sure, but the boys didn't have the maturity to truly understand them. But Luke... Luke was cut from a different cloth. As Sam remarked, "He's light-years ahead of the guys here."

And Jackie nailed it. "He probably knows he needs to compensate for... well, you know... in some way. This is his method."

Our conversation died down as the impact of my story faded.

Then, seemingly out of the blue, Jackie interjected. "Speaking of your birthday," we definitely hadn't been, "I hope you don't mind, but I've been giving Luke some tips on what to do for it."

"Uh, okay," I chuckled, a bit taken aback. "I guess it depends on what you mean by 'helping Luke figure it out.'"

We all burst into giggles at that. "I'm just assisting him with the gift he has planned."

Now that was as cryptic as it gets, but honestly, I couldn't care less.

"Sure, whatever he needs."

The ensuing two weeks felt as though they were crawling by, but I surprised myself by being remarkably restrained. It wasn't merely the physical yearning for Luke that had me restless, it was the emotional bond we'd established the last weekend. It felt profound, authentic, and I didn't want to ruin that. For the first time, I truly desired for things to succeed. Thus, the week, the weekend, and the subsequent week all glided by without me stirring up any drama at a party or doing anything that might jeopardize my connection with Luke.

When he pulled up at my sorority house on Friday, I was pulsating with excitement. His usual routine -- sending me a text that he had arrived and waiting patiently downstairs.

From the landing of the second floor, I spotted him and called out, "Get your butt up here! There's no need for me to come down. My bedroom's up here, silly!"

I didn't care who overheard or deduced why I wanted Luke upstairs. By now, all the girls were well aware of him and me, and how eagerly I'd been awaiting to have him alone in my room.

His grin illuminated the entire area. He was holding a box -- so he hadn't forgotten about my birthday! -- and I couldn't help but wonder what surprise he had in store for me.

We entered my room and fell into each other's arms. This was not a peck on the cheek kind of greeting, it was an intense, lingering kiss. Luke was an expert kisser, gentle yet assertive, demonstrating just how in tune he was with me, with my body.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "I want to give you your birthday present now, so we can enjoy it, talk about it, experience it together all weekend."

"Sure thing, goofball," I responded, my hands outstretched.

He hesitated, "It's not exactly that kind of gift. It's a surprise, but I can give you part of it."

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out three silk scarves. Two were long and narrow, the other smaller and square.

"I'd like to lightly bind your hands to the bed and blindfold you, with your permission, of course. You'll be able to free yourself easily, but it's just to keep your hands..."

My response was a passionate kiss, drawn in by his dedication to my comfort. After we separated, I breathed out, "Tie me up."

His hands settled on my shoulders and gently turned me around. As I faced my bed, his hands traced the curve of my back, around to my stomach, pulling me closer. His kisses were light as a feather against my neck and collarbone, while his left hand drifted upwards to cup my breast, sending a wave of goosebumps scattering across my skin.

His right hand began its descent to the waistband of my jeans before sliding under my shirt, encouraging it upwards. I assisted him in pulling it over my head. My hair tumbled free from the bun I'd secured it in earlier, and I swept it aside as his mouth returned to my neck.

He unhooked my strapless bra with practiced ease and it fell to the floor, swiftly followed by my jeans, which he tugged down after unbuttoning them. The musky scent of my arousal filled the air. He gave me a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat's.

My panties followed suit, leaving me bare. I was already slightly sweaty from the heat, and anticipation pulsed through my veins, leaving me eager for whatever would follow.

Truth be told, I hadn't expected Luke for another couple of hours. But a surprise text in class let me know he'd be arriving right after. Not quite the preparation time I'd hoped for.

My slightly stubbly bikini line was damp, courtesy of the weather and my escalating anticipation. But there was a certain rawness to this moment that felt fitting. I was ready for whatever came next.

Still on his knees, Luke planted gentle kisses at the top of my slit, then strayed slightly to the side. He hoisted my left leg, setting it on his shoulder as he dispersed a few more kisses on the front of my pubis, before zeroing in on my core. His tongue plunged into my wet opening, gliding it in and out, and around. I could hear the wet sounds as he drew on my center with his warm mouth, and felt the reverse pressure as he suckled me. His tongue embarked on a tantalizing exploration, trailing from my opening to the top, brushing against my folds all the way up to my clit. After several repetitions, he zeroed in on my clit, lavishing it with fervent licks. I was relishing his attention, but I knew I wouldn't climax while standing up.

He eventually lowered my foot and rose to kiss me. I was instantly enveloped in the potent scent of my arousal - a mix of salty, tangy, sour, slightly sweet, and oddly metallic. Part of me recoiled at its intensity, but another part of me was thrilled by his lack of aversion.

Guiding me to the bed, he eased me onto it. I sprawled out on my back as he took my right arm, gently securing it above my head with one of the scarves tied to the bedpost. He repeated the process with my left arm.

He stepped back for a moment, starting to walk away, but then turned and looked at me. I felt utterly exposed. His eyes were fixated on my crotch. I suddenly felt self-conscious. I squirmed a bit, but his eyes widened at the movement. I halted, noting that my buttocks had spread slightly and were now resting on the bed, held there by the weight between the bed and me. There was a slight pull on my pussy lips, as if they were gently parting.

"I have one more thing to get."

When he returned, he was holding a bottle of lubricant. He poured a small amount into his hand, which drew a chuckle from me. "Honey, you don't need that. Trust me, I'm more than ready," I assured him, in my best sultry voice.

"Oh, I have no doubt," he grinned, "this is just part of the fun."

I decided not to question it further.

As I lay there, spread-eagled, he held the bottle aloft above my crotch, allowing a few drops of the warm lubricant to fall onto me. The sensation of the warm lube landing just at the top of my slit sent a wave of pleasure rippling through me.

Once satisfied with the liberal application of lubricant, Luke set the bottle aside. His slick hand then began a sensual exploration of my mound, spreading the lubricant all over. His fingers traced tantalizing circles over my stubble-coated mound, then dipped down over my lips, and all the way to my puckered entrance at the back. As he did this, his gaze never strayed from the intimate spectacle before him, drinking in every detail as my arousal visibly heightened.

His hand lingered over my mound, his palm providing a warm, soothing pressure. His index and middle fingers embarked on a slow journey, gently parting my folds with soft, tantalizing strokes. I could feel my body responding to his touch, relaxing and succumbing to the mounting arousal.

His touch remained consistent, continuing to stroke and part my folds. It was an extraordinary sensation. Never before had anyone paid such close attention to me in this way.

As his tender exploration persisted, my legs instinctively spread wider. I could feel my arousal intensifying, the warmth radiating from my core. Then, he slipped a finger inside me. It was swift and purposeful. Despite the profound sensation, I managed to stay quiet.