Feeling Good

"Move," I said, guiding him to sit in the middle of the bed. He obeyed.

I crawled onto his lap to straddle him, taking him in my hand again to position myself over him. This time he whimpered and dropped his head to my shoulder.

I was so curious: I wanted to play with him for hours. I wanted to touch every inch of him everywhere and in every way. I wanted to pull every sound he was capable of making out of his throat. But I needed to come. I couldn't wait anymore. I hoped I could earn another chance to explore him.

"S' okay?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't have to explain what I meant.

"Yes!" He grunted against my shoulder.

I sank back onto him as far as I could. I sighed deeply and heard him do the same. It was the fullest I'd ever felt. It only made the aching inside me worse, but every moment was deliciously satisfying.

I stayed still for a moment, floating slightly above his lap, gathering up the strength to push down harder. I willed myself to relax: the minute movements against the walls of my cunt, one or both of us throbbing involuntarily, felt perfect, but the size was overwhelming. The toys I was used to didn't prepare me for the unfurling I tried to induce my muscles into.

Simon's mouth was at my collar bone, while his fingers relearned my anatomy from this angle. His thumb finally rubbed against my clit, and I twisted on him, getting lower and tighter than I thought I could. He reacted by biting the swollen skin and bucking up into me.

"Holy fuck," I hissed, my head rolling back, as I realized I was sitting flush against his lap. The size felt irrelevant now. I wasn't in pain, and feeling of control helped me relax as far as I needed to.

My hips moved easily, and I set a rhythm Simon met by rocking up into me.

I tried to focus on him, to fuck him perfectly, but every time I fell back onto him, I leaned back to scrape his tip against my a-spot. Simon's tongue flicked out over my nipple before pulling it between his lips.

I whined as his other hand grabbed my ass harder than ever, his thumb, mouth and hips still working me diligently.

"Fuck!" I cried and fucked him as fast as I could. My muscles were shaking, tension grinding them to stop, but my nerve endings begged me to keep going. "Ah, I think I'm close..." But fuck, I don't know! Don't panic. Fuck. "Fuck!"

Both of Simon's hands grabbed my hips and pulled me down onto him, speeding our rhythm. Simon's feet planted somewhere behind me so he could thrust up into me, making me curl uselessly around his

frame and grab his hair. Simon's eyes are green, I could see them clearly as I shook furiously and started coming. Simon: brilliant, beautiful fucking Simon. His eyes closed and he whined loudly at me yanking his hair. My voice raised to a gasping scream as he clawed at me.

"Fuck," I whispered as I lost all strength.

Simon suddenly grabbed my thighs and hoisted me up to my knees. His hand went behind me so he could touch himself. His whole arm and shoulder working around me on a part of his body I could even see: he was like a beautiful, natural mechanism I was just lucky enough to get to see.

His other arm held me close to his chest, like he just needed me here even if I wasn't doing anything to him.

But I couldn't have that.

I reached behind me to touch him. I felt his hand working his shaft faster than I had, before closing my fist lightly around his head. He cried out and buried his face in my neck when I rubbed at the wet slit underneath. His gasping and groaning into my hair and neck was pealing. Without knowing why, I said: "Good boy."

He screamed my name, clawed at my back, and grunted "Oh, fucking god!"

He went still and pulled me crushingly close.

We sat there, just breathing and clutching for a while. Simon pulled back to look at my face, an easy smile pulling at his lips. I opened my mouth, sure I was supposed to say something but not knowing what, only to yelp as he flopped back, still clutching me to his chest. He laughed at me, making his chest heave into me again.

"You have a nice laugh," I said, energy leaving me quickly.

"Thanks." His voice was languid, but I could still hear his smile.

As we lay in the stillness, my mind couldn't help but analyze my evening from a statistical stand point.

Firsts: sex with a man — check. Being penetrated by a man — check. Being intimate with a gorgeous, kind, sensual person I was undoubtedly attracted to — check. Sex with a co-worker — well... well, fuck, that might require further analysis.

Turned on and got off a gorgeous, kind, sensual man — it seemed like it. As much as a cruel, self-loathing voice in me looked for angles by which I may have cheated the system, the evidence of my senses was overwhelming. His body was relaxed and comfortable beneath me. Whatever he looked for in a one-night-stand, it seemed like I'd provided it.

One night?

He moaned quietly to himself, and suddenly shifted under me, turning to his side, out from under me.

A moment of discomfort crept up on me as I wondered whether I was supposed to leave — and was gone a moment later when he resettled comfortably on his side, his long left arm and leg draped over me, pinning me down. He was asleep already.

If he'd wanted me to leave, I had an air-tight argument in my defense: his unconscious self clearly disagreed with him. I hummed in quiet laughter again. I was so tired. So I pulled his large, warm body closer and closed my eyes.