I Dare You Pt. 09

Mads woke up before York did and propped her head up on her hand, supported by her elbow. York was laying on his back, and it humored her at how formal he looked even while he slept. The sheet stopped at his waist, his torso bare and exposed to her. She slowly traced her finger across the creases of his abdominal muscles then up to his chest. He twitched a little but did not wake up.

The fire was a smoldering pile of ash and embers. Another log and a few deep breaths could revive it with ease. It was plenty warm in the house however, so that was not needed. Looking down the line of her body to the fire, Mads bit her lip in a smile as she remembered last night. How the glow of the fire reflected off their bodies and made them both look to the other that they had been set ablaze.

It made her recall the situation she needed to take care of today. That was ingrained in her memory due to the feeling of York finishing into her like a shotgun shell. She closed her eyes and could almost feel the blast again. It was impossible to describe how good that felt.

Mads knew what came first on her list of priorities. Check on her father and see what she needed to do from there. Also, do not forget his book. Then she could take care of anything else.

It was hard to move though. Her thighs were still touching his, and his warmth was magnetic. She did not want to leave the bed at all, if he was still in it.

Mads continued to drag the blade of her finger across his torso, having fun making him twitch in his sleep. Finally, it was enough to pull him from slumber, and he reflectively grabbed her hand to make her stop. He turned to her and saw the expression on her face. Her lustful smirk and the eyes of someone who wanted more than they had already been given.

If a look could grant permission, Mads' eyes certainly did. She raised her eyebrows up once, then leveled them out again. Her eye lashes were like extended fingers curling toward the palm to draw someone closer. She slowly pulled the sheet down, grazing across her breasts, and stopped it when she felt it about to cross her nipples.

York moved his fingers, starting at her knee then moving up her thigh, then back down again. Mads took his hands and guided it back up to her waist and slid it down toward her pelvis. York rolled to his side, Mads to her back, and circled his finger around the opening of her vagina. Mads found his penis and began to work him.

The moment he plunged his finger inside of her, he also leaned down and kissed her neck. Mads released a soft coo and repeated the sound every time his lips parted and returned to her skin. He kissed up her neck and under her chin, until she lifted her head up and rotated it around his, allowing her lips to find his.

Mads gripped his cock firmer when they started to kiss, and felt it hardening. She could feel the moister from her pussy and sloppy sound of his finger entering and exiting at a high tempo. This was a good way to start a morning.

Mads opened her legs and he positioned himself between them, moving his hand out of the way and aiming the head of his dick. She let out a gasp that was silenced with his mouth, and felt his smooth, rhythmic movements.

It would be hard to reproduce last night. How liberating, yet scary and uncertain her confession was. York opening up to her, his vulnerability something she did not think he was capable of expressing until he did. The mood of nothing but their own self-generated heat and a fire to keep them warm. Then how it ended, and how it was her fault. She did not want to stop yet, because she was so close, and when it finally arrived, caused by his explosion inside of her, there were no words.

This sex felt just as intimate, but certainly not as steamy and passionate as last night. There was something cathartic about last night. They had let something out of their systems, and now they could just enjoy each other's company. Last night was therapeutic, but this morning felt natural. For the first time, them having sex did not have a sense of being novel or forbidden. It just felt normal. To Mads, having sex with a man felt normal now.

As much as Mads still liked women, even by all indication still preferred them, there was an itch in her that only a dick could scratch. It was not even itchy until she scratched, but like any itch, once you aggravate it, it becomes harder to ignore. York was hard to ignore.

Mads felt her first orgasm start to rise, and York acted appropriately. He knew her so well, he knew when she was nearing a climax. Her entire body would flex, her arms and legs trying to push themselves together. Her thighs pressing into him was a dead giveaway. In missionary she would typically hold his waist but would let it go to grab the sheets. If she was on top, she balanced by leaning over slightly with her hands on his chest, but when she was close she'd reverse and lean back, her palms on his lower thighs near the knees. In doggy she'd reach between her legs and begin to play with her clit if York was not already doing that.

York felt her thighs clench, her hands let him go to grip the sheet, and her mouth pull away to breathe properly. He smiled, because he knew and rolled into it. Stopping for a moment, he slid his arms and hands forward, then threw her legs high. He essentially bent her in half and dropped himself straight down into her. Mads went white knuckled on the sheet and screamed herself out of air. York lowered her back down and kissed her as she was reduced to her inhales making her voice crack.

They rolled to the other side of the bed, Mads now on top. His hands fondled her breasts, and she grabbed one and helped it squeeze, and the other played with her clit. York felt her thighs clench again, but she slowed down to draw it out for longer. York decided to let her do it. He could have easily dropped his hands, grabbed her sides, arched his butt up a little and rammed straight into her. However, he knew she liked to go her own pace when she was on top.

After Mads came again, York rolled them back, but she was more to her side. He held her left leg up and held it, using it to pull her toward him as he thrusted forward. Mads enjoyed the depth of the position and the firmness of the penetration. To put it simply, he could fuck the shit out of her from that position.

"Fuck me hard," Mads said to him, and York did not ask her if she was sure like he would have a month ago. "Don't stop until you come."

York checked his grip on her leg, then started to pound her as requested. Mads wanted to smother her mouth to not yell, but she also wanted York to hear what he was doing to her. Her screams echoed the room, the only thing as loud was the sound of his dick slamming into her pussy. After the first minute, Mads was reminded of his endurance. She had no voice left again and could only groan and whimper to express herself.

York felt her go numb, so adjusted her to her back and resumed a more relaxed pace. Mads pulled him into a kiss, and he could feel how labored her breath was. When he rested fully on top with her breasts pressed into his chest, he could feel her heart thumping against his.

"I said...don't...stop," Mads said between breaths.

"I prefer this," York said, kissing her again.

Mads also knew when York was about to orgasm. During blowjobs when he was standing up, his dick would begin to quickly contract. His torso would push forward, his feet would not move, and his shoulders would draw back, making his body form a large capital C. If he was laying down, it was largely the same, only she could feel his toes curl and he would let go of her head or hair if he was using it to pull her. During sex it was more pronounced. He would feel it, then his pace would slow to a crawl. If she was on top he'd even push up to slow her down.

York slowed his pace to a crawl, a few moments later he said he was close. Mads reconfirmed she was taking care of last night anyway. York used that as his permission to lock her lips and unleash himself inside of her. The concussion caused Mads legs to clench his thighs, so he knew the feeling was mutual.

They did not move immediately, the kissing from the orgasms resumed unencumbered. As he slowly withered away inside of her, they kept their lips together. It seemed like only an additional few seconds to them. Time does not make sense during something like this, and in truth they had an encore for nearly twenty full minutes.

The day did need to truly begin though, so they finally got up, York pulling his pants up and Mads only taking the sheet and her bag to the bathroom with York. As they were waiting for the water to warm up, Mads opened the sheet and drew him into it, and they continued where they left off. Then they continued in the shower. They continued so much York's erection came back and he picked her up, and pinned her in the shower like their first time.

The first time it did not dawn on Mads how strong York was compared to her. He lifted her up like nothing and could fuck her that way for ten minutes before he would start to exhaust. It confused her before why she liked it so much, but now she understood it. York was dominating in sex yet was not dominate socially or emotionally. The moment she saw that contrast in him, she understood his true nature better.

York experienced a reverse rally, where in close sessions the second does not last as long as the first.

"Put me down," Mads said in the tone of an order.

Mads never imagined in her life her favorite thing to do with a man would be to suck his cock. This did not have as straight forward of an answer. She imagined it would feel degrading, but the opposite was true to her. She felt stronger compared to him. With a simple flick of her tongue she could make York tremble. She loved the bumbling mess of a former human she could make a man by only continuing to suck after he had come. To make York a mumbling wreck was amazing.

York's back shielded her from the shower head, until she saw his body go C. The secret was to swallow the first squirt fast. If you waited and let too much built up, it was like trying to swallow a piece of beef that was too big. You would chew it for minutes before you gave up and spat it out into your napkin. The first squirt is usually the largest, so getting that one down fast made the rest manageable. It wasn't the taste. It was the reaction it invoked when she kept sucking. York nearly fell over in the shower.

They finished the part of the shower that involved cleaning, got dressed from clothes packed in their bags, and then cleaned up the down stairs. They deflated the mattress and put it away. Mads put the sheets in the wash immediately. It was one thing for her father to know, it was another thing entirely to leave the evidence at his house.

The drive to the hospital was quiet. Not because it was awkward, but because talking was unnecessary. If he did not need his hand to switch gears, he would have held hers when she placed it on his for a few seconds. She understood why he couldn't.

Maxwell was happy to see her again, and grateful for his book which he placed on the bed next to him. York decided to not be as aloof as he was yesterday, managing a real conversation. He was unsure on the manner he was to present himself as to her father. Does he do so as her friend, or as the guy he knows has had sex with his daughter but is not in a relationship with her? Technically he took her virginity, depending on how one would count that. This time he decided that the answer was as someone who simply cared about his daughter's wellbeing.

"Full time I'm a physical trainer, school I'm working on my M.D. focusing on sports medicine and nutrition," York replied, when asked about work and school. "Academic and sports scholarships for undergrad, I'm in some debt for graduate school." When asked about how he was paying for it. He asked because Mads had a scholarship full ride up until graduate school. Her doctorate was relatively inexpensive as she offset some of the cost as a research fellow.

York left the room to get them some coffee, and Maxwell pushed himself up to sit higher in the bed.

"Brain and brawn," Maxwell said, and Mads nodded.

"He is, and don't say it that way," Mads said. His tone was that of a girl who was just introduced to her friend's boyfriend and she approved.

"Why not? You two are radiating affection right now," Maxwell said, Mads wanted to retort, but shrugged to agree.

"Maybe," Mads relented. "We had a good night, and I'll stop there."

"Please do."

"You never had a problem with me addressing my sex life before," Mads said, then immediately answered her own complaint in her head.

"Your sex life didn't have pregnancy as a factor until recent," Maxwell said with a small laugh. She was nearly thirty and now all of a sudden that was a possibility for her.

"So what if I did dad, you just had your second heart attack, and maybe I would like for you to meet your grandkid," Mads said without a hint of sarcasm. After she said it, the idea of it went through her head. All she had to do, was not take care of it, and maybe she would get pregnant.

"Already planning that..."

"Not what I said," Mads interrupted, then realized that was exactly what she was saying. She had always wanted kids at some point, that was for sure. And not her lesbian adopted love child. Mads wanted her own in the truest way possible. Mads wanted the belly, the kicking, the whole package. To her it was frankly the ultimate expression of being a woman.

Mads had just never thought it would be caused conventionally. Science had essentially made that slight hiccup completely avoidable. All she had to do was find a donor, and in truth she may have asked York regardless. Science wasn't needed when the old-fashioned way was available.

"I don't hate the idea of a little you running around, in fact I'd love it," Maxwell started.

"But?" Mads asked. This full sentence absolutely had a conjunction.

"Don't feel pressured because of me. I will be fine, you can take your time to think that out," Maxwell said, surprising her a little. She wasn't expecting that answer. Then again, she wasn't sixteen anymore, she was nearly thirty and a semester from her doctorate.

"It will be because I want to, I can promise that," Mads said as the best way to let the topic go. The conversation on it ended, but her thinking about it did not.

-

Mads decided she was going to stay a full week with her dad, which was something York was not able to do on such short notice. York would miss too many hours at the hospital, and they needed more time in advance to line someone up to replace him. Not to mention his physical therapy clients, and the gym. Him explaining it to her caused Mads to fully understand how busy his schedule was. The fact he found even a moment of it to help her was astounding.

York placed his bag in the trunk of his car and walked around to where Mads was leaning against the rear door on the driver's side. She was wrapped in a coat with a scarf around her neck, and York was eager to get in the car because he did not pack very well for the trip. Snow was just starting to fall, the first of the season, in small flakes that melted almost instantly when it touched the ground. Mads expected to be the whole week and possibly longer if the weather did turn sideways like it was forecasted to. A blizzard could make travel difficult in the next few days.

"You gonna get back before the cold?" York asked, Mads answering with a shrug and a smile.

"I'll play it by ear. My dad should be able to get me back. He'll insist on driving me," Mads replied, York knowing that was true. After only a day with him, he knew him well enough to understand his pride. He knew where Mads got her pride from.

"I'll see you when you get back. We can talk then," York said, Mads nodded, knowing what about. They were passed the point where they brush it off and say they're just confused and trying to figure it out. This required a real substantive conversation. Mads was one foot in with the other out, on pursuing something she never considered. Not just sleeping with a man but starting a relationship with one.

York still needed to do a few things on his own. First thing he needed to do was break up with Heather officially, and not just say he was thinking about it. It did not feel right to do it over the phone while she was on her first real project. That felt needlessly cruel and could jeopardize her career. As far as he had grown apart from Heather, he did not want to hurt her more than he had to.

"I'll see you soon," Mads said, and they both paused a little, not sure how to end this exchange anymore. Before they just said goodbye and went on their respective ways. That did not feel like enough anymore. Mads decided not to fight it and grabbed the collar of his coat to pull him to her for a kiss. York trapped her between himself and the car and kissed her back, before separating and sitting in the car.

Mads watched him start the engine and then back out of the driveway. Before he pulled it into drive to fully leave, they both waved one last time before York drove away and she walked back up the porch and through the front door.

Maxwell was sitting in his chair and reading his book, his glasses perched at the end of his nose. She could tell he wanted to say he did not need her to stay. Or that he could take care of himself. He held those in for two reasons: He almost never wanted her to leave, and he knew she wouldn't.

"This week will be to relax and recover, nothing else," Mads said to her father, who lowered the book down to see her face just over the top of it. "Got it?"

"Yes," he replied and raised the book back up.

"Have you taken your meds?" Mads asked, Maxwell removing a hand from the book to pick up the bottle and loudly shake the contents.

"Need me to get anything?" Mads asked, Maxwell taking a moment to actually think. "I can drive to get it, I was going to the drug store anyway."

"A Pepsi."

"You're not getting a pop after a heart attack. How about water? I'll even budge and get you a Gatorade," Mads said, Maxwell sighing. "What flavor?"

"Blue."

"That's a color, not a flavor."

"Orange," he said just to tease her.

"Alright smart ass," Mads said with a giggle and kissed his forehead as she walked passed. She grabbed the truck keys, headed out the door, and then drove into town.

Carl and Son's Drug Store had closed down a few years ago after fifty years in business, and a CVS had filled the vacuum almost immediately. Some locals still grumbled that the chain store had taken out a town landmark, but the drug store was in dire straits well before that, and the CVS came after they shuttered their doors. As a show of good faith to the community, the Carl of Carl and Son's was the assistant manager. Still didn't stop the diehards from cursing the place under their breath, and of course doing so while walking away with their prescriptions filled.

A part of Mads still gravely missed the feeling of being in Carl and Son's. She was still relatively good friends with Carla, the former owner's daughter who she went to high school with. She was the pitcher to Mads' catcher. Carla skipped college to stay with the family business that went under five years after she made that decision. Last she knew Carla was waitressing while doing online courses and night school.

The electronic 'ding dong' when walking into the store did not sound as welcoming as the bell above the door that jingled loudly to alert even the farthest reaches of the store. The PA system which played inoffensive pop music did not have the same feel as the radio Carl would put in the top corner above the register playing country or rock from the sixties or seventies. He had to switch out the discs and refused to update the sound system even into the late 2000s, truly showing his age. Mads remembered her and Carla once playing N.W.A. just to watch the old people squirm. They would play 'Fuck tha Police' when Sergeant Oldman would come in for his daily newspaper. The black police officer laughed hysterically at the sight of the two white girls and left without incident.