Rules

She nodded, sleepily. I pulled her into a hug. "Any time you want," she whispered.

I kissed her cheeks. "Any time," she said.

I kissed her forehead. I kissed her eyelids. I kissed the bridge of her nose. I kissed her mouth, and she returned it. "Any. Freaking. Time."

As we began to drift off she said, "I don't want the night to end talking about Sam. Tell me how you became Hugh."

"When I was three or four, my uncle Joey - my mom's brother - was visiting. Apparently I heard him say the name 'Hugh' and it tickled me. I went around saying it over and over, laughing. Until then, my mom had called my dad Joe and me Joey, to keep us straight. With my uncle there, though, there were two Joeys. She would call out to me and he'd answer, and vice versa.

"Uncle Joey started calling me Hugh. He wasn't even trying to solve the 'too many Joeys' problem, he just thought it was cute that it always made me laugh. It stuck - I've been Hugh ever since. It's been great. Over the years I've known several Joes and Joeys, but never another Hugh."

She smiled - I loved seeing her tension melt away.

"Tell me about the name Spencer."

"My parents are from Latvia. When my mom was little, her aunt had a traditional Latvian name that my mom couldn't pronounce. It came out sounding something like 'Sbensar.' Her real name was Sabina-Sarma, which is sort of a Latvian version of Sue Ellen or Mary Jane. Imagine a three-year-old trying to say 'Sabina-Sarma' - 'Sbensar' doesn't seem that far off. Everyone thought it was adorable, and it became her nickname for the rest of her life - like you and 'Hugh.'

"My parents are intelligent people, but there are nuances of American culture that they've never mastered. They were delighted when they encountered the American name 'Spencer,' because it reminded them of 'Sbensar.' It escaped them that Spencer is a boy's name. When I came along, with all the love in the world they named me after my great aunt."

"Davis doesn't sound very Baltic."

"It's not. Wow, I'm impressed - most people have never heard of Latvia, much less know that it's a Baltic country. It's a common story among immigrants: the agent who processed them into the United States couldn't make any sense out of their actual surname, Dzerins. 'Davis' was his idea of the Anglo equivalent, so that's what he wrote on their paperwork. When they became citizens they could have changed it back, but they believed the U.S. had bestowed the name Davis onto them, and out of respect for their adopted land, they kept it."

Her eyes were at half-mast when she finished her story, her breathing deepening and slowing. She was asleep in no time, and a minute later I was too.

: : : : :

Monday morning, once again, I found myself wide awake before dawn, although this time she was asleep, her back spooned into my front. I draped my arm over her waist, slow and gentle so I wouldn't disturb her. She wasn't asleep, though. She took my hand, pulled my arm tight to her chest, nestling it between her boobs. "Are you awake?" she whispered.

"Yeah," I said. "Obviously, you are too. Don't you want to try to go back to sleep?"

"It's less than an hour until time to get up, so probably not." She turned over, and we cuddled, front to front. "I've been awake for a while, thinking. Can I tell you something? It's kind of heavy..."

After everything she'd already told me? I braced myself. "Sure."

"I, um, I just, uh... I just want to thank you for being so patient with me. I know I'm a mess. My emotions have been all over the map, and I realize I've left you high and dry - twice. Not only have you not bailed, but you've been quite a gentleman. I want you to know, I've noticed, and I'm impressed."

"Not every guy is abusive pond-scum like Sam."

"I'm learning that, but not every guy is a prince like you, either."

I kissed her forehead. "I know we just met, and I'm not supposed to say anything like this yet, but I really like you, Spencer. I mean, it's early days, we have a lot to learn about each other, but I don't see 'damaged goods,' I see someone who was treated poorly, who is working hard to overcome it, and is really, really special."

She glowed. She barely whispered, "I like you, too, Hugh." She giggled at her unintended rhyming.

She paused. "I also want to thank you for accepting my rule. You've noticed, obviously, when I feel any expectation, even a little, to do something sexual, I freeze. So far, though, if I initiate it, I'm okay."

I nodded.

"I've been worried I might never be able to enjoy sex again, but you're helping me see that I will. I know I'm just barely crawling at this point, but I'll be walking soon, and I won't quit until I'm running - until I'm sprinting - you'll see. We won't need this rule forever - I can feel myself getting over the fear more every time we're together."

I nodded again.

"It helps that I really like what you do to me." She pulled me in closer to her.

"I love, for example, how you kiss me." She kissed me, long, hard, and passionate. Tongue wrestled with tongue, lips massaged lips.

"And I love how you kiss down from my face to my chest." She kissed down my face, down my neck, across my upper chest.

"I love how you kiss my nipples." She kissed my nipples, sucking them into her mouth, circling them with her tongue, flicking her tongue rapidly over them - much more than I ever did to her. Giving me a road map, perhaps?

"I love how you kiss my navel." She kissed down to my navel, romancing it and tonguing it like it was a miniature pussy.

"I love how you kiss my tummy." She moved downward, dragging her lips across my skin, punctuating her downward progress with several mini-licks and kisses.

"And I love how you suck my cock."

"WHAT?"

"Ha!" Her face melted into one huge smile - she was quite proud of herself. "Your rule, dude, right back atcha! You say totally unexpected things to me, so I get to say totally unexpected things to you. You startle me, I startle you. Learn to like it!"

I loved that she was relaxed enough to tease me about blowing me. I never, however, expected her to actually do the deed. I thought she just said it to shock me.

I was amazed when she surrounded the tip of my cock with her lips. It began as merely an open-mouth kiss, but she drew me into her mouth, glacially slow, sucking continuously. Her mouth felt like molten velvet, soft, sensuous, and magnificently warm. She pulled an inch of me into her, an inch and a half, two inches, two and a half inches, three inches, all the while swirling her tongue. I moaned, low and guttural. After a long blissful moment, she began pulling off, as slowly as she had drawn me in. She reached the end, holding my glans between her lips, and let it pop free with an audible smack.

As good as this felt, I didn't want to trigger any panic. "You're not pushing yourself too hard, are you?"

"No. I'm pushing myself just right. I need to do this - it's what I want. It's what I need."

"I wouldn't blame you if you never blew anybody again, ever."

"I refuse to be that girl. If that's how I end up, then I'm still his victim - he wins. I want to do this. This is how I win. This is for me." She hesitated before continuing. "Make no mistake, though, it's also for you. You've been so patient with me. I mean, you-"

"Look, you don't have to-"

"Shut up and enjoy having your dick sucked, you moron!" she teased.

That was advice I could follow.

She drew me back into her mouth, not quite as slow as before, and a bit deeper. She pulled off, still sucking like crazy. It was heaven.

"When this is my idea, I like it. A lot. You taste good."

Um, I liked it too.

She began to pick up speed. She seemed completely at ease, focused on my pleasure without a trace of lingering fear. Her mouth was almost electric in its warmth and moistness. She stroked me at a perfect pace. Before long, I could feel the inevitable building. I was about to warn her, and I worried about where to aim when I pulled out of her mouth, but she paused briefly and said, "I can't wait to taste your cum," and resumed sucking.

Any reservation I had about cumming in her mouth evaporated. I exploded, launching stream after stream of jizz into her throat. She moaned, she hummed, she sucked even harder - she was magnificent.

When I was through, she slowed down, but didn't stop until my body unwound completely. She kissed my tip a final time and slid up beside me, tucking her face into my shoulder.

I kissed her passionately. When I was younger, I hated the taste of my own cum, but I eventually realized that avoiding a girl's mouth after cumming in it is a quick ticket to fewer blowjobs. Or no blowjobs.

It took Spencer a moment to realize I wasn't disgusted by the taste of her mouth. A chill rippled across her body and she leaned into our kiss for all she was worth. She tucked back into my shoulder.

"See, it's working. You let me drive, and I didn't panic - not even a little."

"You're amazing."

"I am? I mean, yes, I am."

"Would it spook you if I told you it was a great blowjob?"

She grinned. "I don't know. Let's try."

"That was a great blowjob!" Her face sparkled with pride.

I was astonished how much progress she had made in such a short time. She was obviously working hard to overcome the damage that Sam and his friends did to her, and her work was paying off, rewarding her, but also rewarding me quite nicely.

"I'm proud of you," I said.

"I'm proud of me, too."

When the alarm went off, we hit snooze several times and cuddled. For too long, it turned out; we both had to rush to be on time to our 8:00 classes.

As we hugged goodbye, she said, "I think my rule is a good one."

I did, too.

: : : : :

Monday I had classes. My internship required full workdays on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I shouldered an entire semester's class load on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It made for long days. Fortunately, at that point in the semester, I had minimal homework, enabling me to talk to Spencer on the phone Monday evening, for several hours - we seemed to be able to talk forever. Tuesday was an extremely slow day at work, until about half an hour before quitting time, then a project came in, extremely urgent, of course. We worked until midnight to get it finished. At least I get paid overtime.

Wednesday, as I drove home after class, I thought about calling her after dinner. I hadn't even set my backpack down in my apartment when my phone rang. "Have you eaten?" she asked.

"Not yet." There was a knock on my door, so I said, "Hold on a second." It was Spencer, holding her phone to her ear, a huge grin on her face, carrying my favorite pizza from my favorite joint. She hadn't asked - turns out it was her favorite too. Neither of us had any homework so we watched a couple of episodes of 'our' shows on my DVR.

I had a hard time concentrating on the TV. My mind kept drifting to how she looked naked, how her body felt snuggled into mine, how her breasts and bottom felt in my hands, how her lips felt pressed against mine, how her mouth felt surrounding my cock, how heavenly her pussy was going to taste, and how my cock was going to feel when I finally buried it in her.

I would have to wonder a little longer. We kept our clothes on, and she didn't spend the night.

: : : : :

Friday - at last! I took her to a hole-in-the-wall Italian place with exquisite food and an intimate atmosphere - they only had six tables. She loved it. I introduced her to Prosecco, a dry sparkling white Italian wine. I had the bartender add a dash of Campari, a bittersweet Italian liqueur, giving the wine a rich crimson glow and an extra-deep flavor. She loved that, too. We must have looked quite enthralled with each other - at the end of our meal the waiter brought cannoli, which we hadn't ordered. I pointed that out, and he nodded at one of the other tables. A much older couple smiled at us warmly, grasped each other's hands, and said "With our compliments. You remind us of when we had just met."

After dinner, I drove her to a hilltop on the outskirts of town with a beautiful panoramic view facing west. Nature was showing off that night, sunset was spectacular. I availed myself of the opportunity to kiss her 'any time.' Emerging from dusk on the horizon as the sun faded were lights from Clifton's. A little nearer, we saw an old-school traveling carnival, in town for the weekend, which is where we went next. It was pure, simple fun. We rode the Ferris wheel and the Tilt-A-Whirl, and shared a cotton candy. I dunked a clown by hitting a target with a baseball, and won her a stuffed unicorn at the ring toss.

It might have been the Italian food, the sunset, the carnival, the unicorn, or all of them combined, but something won me an invitation back to her place. Or, maybe she had planned all along to bring me home so we could continue working on her recovery. I know that breaking down barrier after barrier was hard work on her part. I like to think I made it a little easier by being empathetic, or maybe by simply being there without any physical or verbal abuse.

On the drive back to her apartment she had me stop at a liquor store, where she bought some Prosecco and Campari. This time we actually spent time in her living room. She brought out her 'wine glasses' - they looked a lot like jelly jars. I dribbled a tablespoon of Campari into each glass, then filled them half-way with Prosecco. Again, the color was rich, sensuous, and inviting. After a couple of sips, I kissed her 'any time.' It was another long, sensuous, impressive one.

When we came up for air, I paraphrased her from Sunday night. "I have this sliver of a memory, from what feels like a long, long time ago. I remember some amazing, world-class kissing." I kissed her again, a brief but rich one. "Mmmm, I was right. This is heaven."

Her smile grew as she recognized her own words, blossoming into a radiant glow in response to the compliment. Looking quite eager, she had me stand. She led me through the sexiest - but most unusual - strip-tease I ever experienced. She stripped me. I was the one being undressed, but she did the undressing. And she was definitely the one being sexy.

She seemed to be pretending this was her first time ever, and everything she uncovered was the first one she had ever seen. She pulled my shoes off, then my socks, and was clearly fascinated, apparently experiencing the intimacy of a man's bare feet for the first time in her life. When she felt ready to proceed, she bravely unbuttoned my shirt, revealing the mystery of the male navel. She probed it with her fingertips, and brushed her lips and tongue across it as if her sense of taste might help solve the riddle.

She pulled my shirt open, uncovering an unfathomable wonder: male nipples. At first she just stared. She cautiously worked her fingertips over the surrounding flesh, moving slowly inward until she finally dared to touch them. She explored them in great detail, and when they didn't explode in her face, she cautiously, timidly kissed them.

I was steel-hard, almost painfully aroused by this game of hers, but I summoned every ounce of self-control I had and let her take her time. It appeared to have a purifying effect on her. She actually seemed to be rebooting to an earlier, more innocent self, as if this really was her first encounter and Sam had never inflicted any cruelty upon her.

She slipped my shirt off, enthralled with what she found underneath. She circled me and thoroughly examined my shoulders, massaging them when sight alone didn't explain things. She returned to my front, re-exploring my nipples and navel, then working downward, leading to my pants and belt. Since it was her 'first time,' my belt buckle and zipper baffled her briefly, but she finally got my pants down and off, revealing the greatest mystery yet: boxer briefs.

Her eyes and fingers thoroughly explored the front, taking in the seams, the elastic, the fly. She seemed most mystified by the underlying bulge, and used fingertips and palms to explore the barely-constrained shape. My cock pulsed in response to being touched, spooking her. She prodded again in the same area, and the same reaction startled her again, so she circled around to the back.

She fingered the bottoms of the legs, discovering the cloth could be pulled away from my skin. She slid her hands underneath and massaged my butt, only pulling out when things got too snug. She moved to the waistband and discovered that not only could it be pulled it away from my body, it could be pulled down, uncovering my ass. She stared at it, and touched it, but apparently sight and feel weren't enough, so she kissed the whole area. She had gotten all the way down to the crease between my cheeks and thighs when she discovered that the entire garment could be pulled down and off. She continued exploring my butt, and then slowly, cautiously, turned me around to face her.

She was fascinated by my hard-on, approaching it like a cat investigating a new toy. She leaned in to examine it closely. It twitched and that startled her, so she quickly pulled back to a safe distance. She leaned to one side to scrutinize it from a different angle, again leaning in for a closer view then abruptly pulling back, as if it might be a predator, coiled and ready to strike. She returned to her center view, then leaned in the other direction, exploring it from a three-quarter angle and then from the side. Whenever she got 'too close' she jerked back to safety, but each time she approached, she came a little nearer as her bravery and confidence built.

She returned to the center, and came near enough to lick it or take it between her lips, but she backed away, stood, and reached for my hand. Instead of leading me to the bedroom like I expected, she lifted my hand as far as she could reach. She turned me in a slow circle, a partner-dance move done to an impossibly slow tempo. She blatantly ogled my body front and rear as I pirouetted. I found the moment, me naked, her fully dressed and taking her time to study the fine details of my body, almost unbearably sensual. I felt like my dick was going to explode.

She sat on the sofa and placed me, still standing, with my feet between hers. My hard-on waved in the air, barely an inch in front of her face. She leaned forward and captured it with her mouth. She surrounded the tip with the lush softness of her lips, using such an intense combination of sucking and swirling her tongue on the underside that I nearly came on the spot. She eventually drew me in, little by little - it took an agonizing fifteen seconds for my cock to reach the back of her throat.

She held me there, two thirds of my cock in her mouth, which felt almost unbearably soft and warm. She began pulling off me, as slowly as she had taken me in. Her next trip in and out was not quite as slow, and the one after it was slightly quicker. A few more trips in and out and she was now actually blowing me, still slowly, but with an identifiable rhythm. I have no idea how I avoided cumming yet.

She let my dick pop out of her mouth. "This is fantastic," she said, "I didn't know if I'd ever be able to suck cock again without feeling revulsion, or even hatred. You're amazing, how patient you've been with me, how you let me drive."

She went back to long-stroking me, taking me in all the way to the entrance to her throat. I didn't point out that she had initiated the sexual part of our date as quickly as any guy could ever hope, or that she was the one doing all the work, or that she was the one who was amazing.

I was going to cum very soon, too soon. She was at the end of my cock, only the tip remaining in her mouth, and this trip was probably going to be the stroke that finished me. I cupped her head, holding her from plunging over me. She glanced up quickly, afraid that she had somehow displeased me. When she saw my facial expression, though, which had to be a mindless mixture of hedonistic contentment and wanton desire for more, I think she realized that she was doing great and I just needed a brief break if I was going to continue.