One Little Question

"No!" I cried as he avoided my clit again. I tried to push my hips forward, but he put a large hand on each one and held me down easily. Without a word, he started the path again and I held in a breath, pleading with my eyes as he licked again, and got closer, and—

Nothing.

Again he did it, and again, and again, until I finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Fuck!" I wailed as he avoided my clit again, tilting my head back and slamming my eyes shut. "Rob, please!"

"Please what?" he asked.

I almost sobbed. "Please just eat my pussy!"

I expected the slow torture again. Part of me just assumed Rob wouldn't believe I was really begging, that after all of this, he would think I was just saying it. But something in my voice must have convinced him because before I'd even taken my next breath, my clit into his mouth and he'd started sucking.

It almost knocked me off the couch.

I let out a sound that was part moan and part shriek as relief shot through me. Not full relief, of course, but that momentary alleviation that immediately demanded more, and more, and more. It wasn't until strong fingers wrapped around each of my wrists that I even realized I'd grabbed at Rob's head, clutching it to me until he pried my arms away so he could focus on what he was doing.

And what he was doing... Jesus fuck.

Rob's technique before had involved sticking his tongue in my vagina alternated with the occasional odd fumbling of his tongue around my clit. Not quite on my clit. It was like he knew where it was but had no idea what to do with it. Which was weird, because in every other situation, he knew exactly what to do with it, but for some reason, his tongue hadn't received the memo.

Now, though...

It was insane.

It was like he was a different person. My legs ended up hooked over his shoulders, my feet finding purchase against his back so I could push myself forward against his face as much as possible. He sucked on my clit, his tongue flicking against it, targeting the exact right spot to make me shiver and tremble and pant beneath him. Then he stopped, looking up at me as he released my clit before licking all the way from the bottom of my pussy like he had before, only now, his tongue was between my folds and dragged along my clit each and every time.

And fuck.

It was... it was fucking good.

So fucking good.

But it wasn't enough.

It felt like forever that I was in that place just before the edge, a sort of pre-orgasmic purgatory with a wall I simply couldn't pass, as much as I was desperate to. What he was doing felt amazing and part of me was straining, trying to break down that wall, wanting to scream and pound against it until I broke through and did exactly as he'd told me I would.

But I couldn't.

"Rob," I finally whimpered. "I can't..."

He flicked his tongue against my clit. "You will."

"I can't," I said. "It's... it's so fucking good and I want to so bad but it's... my stupid fucking body won't let me."

That was, apparently, both the worst and best thing I could have said.

Rob paused, glaring up at me with his mouth still pressed to my pussy. "Excuse me?"

"Wha—"

He let go of my wrists, which he'd been holding the entire time, and suddenly one of his hands was on my throat. He was so much bigger than me that he barely had to move, just reached up and easily clasped me by the neck.

"Do not ever call this body 'stupid' again," he growled. "This is mine. And it's fucking perfect." His hand tightened. "Understand?"

"Yes," I said. "I understand."

His hand tightened again and I moaned. Or, well, I tried to moan. It came out soft and strangled and urgent, but Rob must have felt it against his palm, because he groaned.

"Again," he demanded, and I made another noise that made him moan into my pussy.

Then his mouth was back on my clit, doing the sucking-and-tongue-flicking thing again, and I was lost. All I could feel was his hand on my throat and his mouth working my clit and air trapped in my lungs. I writhed beneath him, squirming, trying to get more when there wasn't even more to get.

Until he stuck a finger in my pussy.

He loosened his hand on my throat when he did because I gasped so hard I choked, but before he could stop what he was doing, I clenched my thighs around his head to hold him in place. I felt him react to that, though what kind of reaction was beyond me; it might have been a laugh or a moan or even a word, but I didn't care.

I didn't fucking care.

Because I was close. I'd gotten past that wall and I could see the edge now, that peak where there was nothing but bliss and pleasure and everything good...

But I couldn't reach it.

"Rob," I sobbed, though I didn't know if he could even hear me given how quiet my voice was and how tight my legs were around his head. "I can't—"

He mumbled something against my pussy, then he took his finger out of my pussy and stuck it in my ass.

I mean, he did it nicely. Carefully. He used my juices to work the tip of it in, stretching the tight ring of muscle with his thick fingertip all politely so it didn't hurt me.

At least, I think he did.

I wouldn't know. Because apparently, after years of not being able to, all it took was a hand around my throat and a finger in my ass before I was coming against someone's face. Shattering. Falling. It was like something had pushed me, like the Ghost of Christmas About To Come shoved me to the precipice and watched me trip over my fucking shoelaces to plunge over the edge.

And I was screaming. I think. I was making a noise, and Rob could probably feel it with his hand, but with my lack of breath and the absolute ecstasy rushing through me, I couldn't have said what that noise was. My vision was black, then white, then black again as I jerked beneath him, everything around me made of pure energy and pure bliss.

It felt like it stretched on forever. Like that moment was infinite, never-ending, like I was going to be stuck in that torturous place of overwhelming pleasure. But eventually, it faded, and I could breathe again and Rob was looking up at me. I must have let my legs relax enough that he could escape their grip or something. I wouldn't know. I was leaning heavily against the couch and I also might have been crying? My eyes were wet and I couldn't figure out why, but it didn't matter.

"Baby girl?" Rob was saying, his voice full of concern. "Halle? Are you okay?"

"Fuck me," I gasped.

"What?" he asked.

"Fuck me." I tried to sit up, but my limbs felt like the bones had all disintegrated into dust. "I need to make you come."

"Halle—"

"Use me, Rob," I demanded. "Please."

"Baby girl—"

"Please, sir," I said, and the sudden frustration with me using that word seemed to dissolve away any worries he had about me.

Which was good, because even from the pathetic angle I'd managed to pull myself into, I could see his hard cock bulging out of his sweats and an actual spot that was wet with pre-cum. He lifted himself off his knees just enough to pull his sweats down, then pulled me off the couch and into his lap. I steadied myself on his shoulders, clinging to him as he guided his cock inside me. Both of us sighed as he entered me, my pussy so wet that he was buried completely in a single thrust.

I tried to roll my hips, to ride his cock and spoil him the way he'd just spoiled me, but I was beyond that.

"Hold still," Rob growled. "Let me use you, baby girl."

I moaned and he buried his head against my neck. Strong hands gripped my hips, lifting me up and down on his cock as he chased his own release.

"You feel so good," I whispered in his ear once I'd recovered enough to think again. "Everything about you. Your cock. Your mouth... Jesus, Rob. I can't get enough of you. I want you forever, just like this."

"Fuck, baby girl," he groaned. "I want you forever, too."

"Fuck me harder," I murmured. "Fuck me and come inside me and make my little pussy all yours. Because it is, it's yours, baby. However you want it, for always."

"All mine," he grunted. "Fuck, Hal. I'm—ugh."

And then he shuddered, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me still as he came, his cock twitching as he spilled his release inside me. I kissed his neck, his cheek, his shoulder as he did, feeling his breath warm against my skin as he held me.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his voice soft and tired.

I frowned. "For what?"

"Not making you come again so—"

I couldn't help it. I laughed, shaking my head. "Coming like that again right away might have killed me."

He twisted his head, kissing my neck. "And for not eating your pussy right for so long."

I sighed. "Baby, it wasn't—"

"Don't. You said you tried to tell me. I didn't hear it. And I spent all this time not getting to feel that." He groaned, carefully lifting me off his cock so we could get back onto the couch. "There isn't anything else that you feel that way about, right?"

"Nothing at all," I promised as I curled up in his arms, then pressed my lips together. "Although I also, um, need to say I'm sorry."

"Baby girl, I just said I wasn't the one listening."

I winced. "Not that."

"Oh?"

"I... said something. At the cookie exchange."

"About me sucking at eating pussy?"

"I didn't say it like that. Not even close to that. But I don't want you to hear from someone that I did and think—"

He cut me off with a soft chuckle. "It's okay, baby. I outed myself as sucking at it in front of the entire crew today."

"I still feel bad."

"Tell you what. Make it up to me by not being mad if I tell the guys I fucking rocked this tonight."

"Done. And don't be mad if I brag to the girls that you fucking rocked it tonight."

He laughed tiredly and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Done."

There were pros and cons to being the token single guy in his late twenties.

Pro: I was single.

Pro: I could do whatever I wanted.

Pro: I could do whoever I wanted. With consent, of course.

Pro: It wasn't a problem to stay out after work to have a couple of drinks with the guys, since I didn't have to worry about keeping someone waiting back at home.

Pro: Being single apparently gave me an edge for knowing how to please women, since I had to prove my worth to anyone I wanted to sleep with every time I wanted to fuck.

Con: My bleeding heart apparently thought that made it my responsibility to help these poor fuckers who weren't doing what it took to keep their partners happy, so I was stuck doling out advice and comfort like some kind of pussy-eating spirit guide.

They were lucky I was so goddamn generous.

"Well, Rob, my man?" I asked as I set my pint glass back down after Benny bowed out to go test my patent-pending and perfectly proven pussy-eating technique on his pregnant wife that he totally thought no one knew was pregnant. "Any more questions for the cunnilingus savant?"

He gave me an unimpressed look, which I took to mean he thought my comment was the epitome of hilarity.

"If not, I'm gonna head out and get ready for my date," I continued.

"You got a date tonight?" Rob asked, not even bothering to hide his surprise.

"Yeah. There are a few hot singles in my area who want to send me nude photos right now, no credit card required." I lifted a hand to catch the server's attention, mouthing the word 'Bill?' at her. She nodded and turned to the computer, and I turned back to Rob. "Now. What's still bringing you down, my dude?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm kinda pissed at her."

"Who? Halle?" He nodded and I stared at him, bewildered. "Why?"

"Because she didn't tell me."

"... that you weren't doing it right?"

"I mean, yeah." He fidgeted with his pint glass. "If I sucked so badly at it, why the hell didn't she say anything?"

"Are you sure she didn't try?"

"You saying I don't listen to my woman?"

I shrugged. "Pobody's nerfect."

"The eighties called. They want their catchphrases back."

I smirked. "The nineties called. They want that lame-ass joke back."

He laughed, which I figured was a good sign that he wasn't going to kill me for insinuating he wasn't nerfect. The server picked that moment to show up with the bill and I grabbed it, shaking my head as Rob dug in his pocket for his wallet. I paid, left a decent tip on account of the fact that I was fairly sure we'd scarred her with our conversation, then waited until she walked away before I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"Look, Rob. Maybe Halle tried to tell you and maybe she didn't. If she did try, cut yourself some slack. You're doing what you can now to correct it. It's not like you're, you know... Seth or something, refusing to even try. And if she didn't try to tell you, cut her some slack."

His jaw twitched. "I just don't get why she wouldn't talk to me. Like, fuck. How goddamn embarrassing to find out five years into our relationship, in front of all the guys at work, that she doesn't like what I'm doing?"

I tilted my head thoughtfully, the corners of my lips pointing down. "I mean, yeah. It was embarrassing. But hilarious. I'm not planning on ever letting the day you blurted out 'I think I suck at eating pussy' in front of the entire crew fade from my memory."

"Thanks," he said dryly.

"You're welcome. But seriously, dude." I gave him a meaningful look. "Don't be pissed with her."

"It's not like I'm going to fight with her or something. It's just—"

"It's just nothing. Look, if you take anything away from our talk tonight, make it that eating pussy is complicated." I clasped my hands together as I leaned on the table. "Some women don't like it. Some love it. Some want it just as foreplay. Some want to come. Every woman is a little different. And the same techniques and shit won't work for every woman. I mean, hell." I shook my head, laughing softly. "The same techniques might not work for the same woman every time. What Halle likes one day might be totally different the next time. That's not her fault. That's just fucking biology or something, man."

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing." I tapped my fingers on the table. "Even trying to communicate what she wants or doesn't want or what's working or what's not working is hard. Maybe if you were with someone else, but I've met Halle. I don't think her not telling you is about you, you know? Your sex life is good otherwise?"

He nodded.

"Then good." I sat up straight and flipped my palms up casually. "Don't be pissed at her because this one thing isn't working out right now. You know there's a problem. Now it's up to you to solve it."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

I rolled my eyes and stood up, grabbing my winter coat and shrugging it on. "Seriously, dude?"

He looked up at me blankly. "What?"

I sighed. "Rob. Robbie. Robert Robinson Robsley the Third. Did you listen to a single fucking word I said tonight?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Then take my fucking advice, go home, and eat her goddamn pussy until you figure out what she likes!" I stood up and clapped Rob on the shoulder. "Thank me later. You can pay me back with a nice bottle of bourbon."

And with that, I left the bar, intent on finding me some totally-not-a-bot babes to chat with for a while.

But as I got back to my place that night, one of the major cons of being single made itself known. Mainly, that I'd spent the whole fucking day talking and thinking about eating pussy, and there were absolutely no hot singles in my area trying to send me no-credit-card-required nudes.

Not that the nudes would have helped.

No, I was in one of those agitatedly horny moods when I got home. You know the type. It was the kind of mood where even after I got home, got into the shower, and shot a load out before even washing my hair, I didn't feel... you know.

Satisfied.

It wasn't even that I'd wanted to bust in someone's mouth or pussy or even for it to be someone else's hand. What I wanted was to get my mouth on a pussy and just fucking...

Just fucking indulge. Just lick and suck and play with a swollen little clit, feel someone gush against my face, feel her grab my hair and grind against my tongue. I wanted the warmth and wetness and salty-sweet scent and tangy taste.

And all I had was my own fucking hand.

Still, I tried to trick myself into thinking it was enough. After I soaped up and rinsed off, I got out of the shower and put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, then went over to my bed and grabbed my laptop. For a while, I tried to find something to watch: a movie or a new episode of the sci-fi drama I'd gotten into or even, God forbid, a stand-up comedy special.

But what I was looking for wasn't on any streaming service or TV channel. What I wanted to watch was a woman as I made her come with my tongue.

Con of being a single guy in his late twenties: trying to find someone to let me do that.

Because as much as I might be a master of eating pussy and an all-around great catch for any woman wanting a night of feeling like an absolute goddess, picking women up in a small town like Southbush wasn't the easiest feat. There was really just Whiskey Sours as far as nightlife went, and that made it a lot harder to find someone to hook up with.

Not impossible.

But nowhere near as likely.

Especially, I told myself, being right before Christmas. People were already off of work for the holidays, heading out to their family events or to last-minute Christmas parties. Even my parents had plans that night; Dad might've been Hindu, but he got as much into the Christmas spirit as my raised-Catholic-but-hadn't-been-to-church-for-years mother did. Nadia had told me they were going into Calgary for the weekend to see the Christmas lights and go to some event with a bunch of other retirees like them.

But, I mused as I scrolled through pages of movie suggestions simply to give my hand something to do that wasn't sticking it down my pants, maybe I would get lucky. I mean, I couldn't be the only single person left in Southbush a few days before Christmas.

Before I could overthink it, I got out of bed and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved Henley shirt. Then I scrubbed my face with the stupidly overpriced face wash I would never admit to using because toxic masculinity prevented me from admitting that my sick skin care routine is what gave my skin its soft and healthy glow, applied more overpriced creams and oils and cologne, and half an hour later, I was walking back into Whiskey Sours.

To no one's surprise, the bar was not busy. I surveyed the other patrons and flagged exactly one potential person who may be interested in having her pussy tongue-bathed until she couldn't remember her own name: a tall, slim woman sitting at the bar, her long, dark hair cascading down her back and nearly blending in with the all-black ensemble she had on. She was facing away from me, of course, so I couldn't tell what the front of her looked like, but the back was perfectly enticing on its own.

The bar stools on either side of her were empty. As were the ones beside those, which was even better. But before I could start towards one of the empty stools, my eyes fell on a familiar face sitting by himself.

I almost walked past him.

Because frankly, I'd been generous today already. I'd shared my patent-pending techniques with both Rob and Benny, bolstered Rob's confidence, and honestly? I was going to claim responsibility by association for the earth-shattering orgasms both Halle and Denise were probably having right at that very moment.

I'd been more than generous and it was time for me to spoil myself a little.