The Hottest Summer I Can Remember

Right or not, this is something that I've wanted to do since I was eighteen years old and sitting on a ratty brown couch in Alice Silverton's basement. Reaching up, I take one of Gareth's hands and guide it to the back of my head; I can feel his fingers in my hair, curling slightly. He doesn't press me, which is an excellent decision on his part. Instead I only feel the slight weight of his hand and arm as I continue to push the man further into my open mouth.

Truth be told, I haven't had all that much sex in my life. I tend to stop things before it gets that far; I've had six partners, four of whom I'd been in a relationship with for nearly two months before it went any further than oral. But this--I'd done plenty of this. I was good at it; damn good, and confident. I'd also found my rhythm, now. I gagged slightly as the head of Gareth's penis found the back of my throat, and then went deeper as I pressed my nose and forehead down against his dark-haired pelvis. Unlike with some of the men I'd been with, I made no attempt to stifle the wet, gagging sound that came from my throat; I'd always loved that sound--this time, I was going to get exactly what I wanted.

"Holy--shit," he repeated, breathing hard. When he swallowed, I felt the motion pass through his entire body.

Leaning back in, I took him into my throat once more. The motion was more in my neck and shoulders than in my head as I made wave-like motions forward and backward. Finally, after a moment, Gareth's hand tightened around the back of my head. Instead of pressing me down, his fingers curled and pulled me away. Strings of saliva clung between my lips and the base of his penis as he held me away; his eyes touched the ceiling for a moment, and then fell to meet mine.

"Too much?" I ask, innocently.

"Like you've ever been anything else," he laughs. I climb to my feet, and his arms encircle my body. He's holding me tight to him; I can feel the hard length of his erection between my slightly parted legs, pushing flat up against me, "That was--literally incredible. But if you keep doing that, then I'm going to cum. Like--right now. And that's not going to work for me."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

"Because after eleven god-damn years," he leans in and kisses me, pausing the thought until he leans back, "You deserve this far more than I do."

With that, he lifts me easily and throws me onto the bed. Not a gentle toss. A double-armed, open-handed, full-bodied throw. I'm laughing breathlessly, my hands working the pleats of my dress-shirt out of my pants even as he is tugging those down my legs. We work together to undress me. He's got my pants off first, and even as I pull the white segment of my blouse up over my head, I feel his mouth coming down on my body.

It's not about the sex. I mean--it is. It's definitely about the sex, in this moment; but it's not just about the sex. Nearly twenty-one years of stamped-down emotion comes rushing up through me as I feel those soft lips touch down against my body, just below my breasts. I choke back a sound that's almost a sob, then throw my hands up and press them to my mouth before the sound can go much further than my lips. The action is useless. The sounds already left me, gone through the hot space of the empty air between us, and reached Gareth's ears. I see his head come up, so fast that I'm worried he'll break his neck. His dark eyes are wide, and staring directly into mine.

"What was that?" He asks, his voice almost alarmingly quiet.

Reaching out, I grab a pillow from the other side of the bed and press it against my chest. I'm hugging my arms around it, my mouth pressed into the fabric just below one of the corners. I squeeze my hand around that corner, staring back at the young man over the top of the pillow. I could feel tears forming in the corners of my eyes, and I held them back by sheer force of will alone; I knew that he would still see them, shining and wet.

"Sorry," my voice is muffled by the fabric, "I've just wanted this for... so long. Can you just... come here, for a minute?"

Using his hands, he crawled up the bed to meet me. One hand grabbed the pillow from my chest, tossing it away, while the other one went around the small of my back. I felt the strong curves of muscle in that arm while it pulled me over, until the front of my body was pressed against the side of his. His breathing was deep and steady underneath me. I could feel his lips touching down against my bare forehead, the ever so slight stubble around the bottom of his face making me squirm ticklishly. He was breathing through his nose, and each exhale was warm against my forehead. I wasn't about to cry, any longer; but I could feel the wetness around my eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, "hey--it's okay. Everything's okay. We don't need to do this," he pressed his lips against my forehead once more, slightly more firmly, "You never need to do anything, ever again. I'm yours." He breathed the final two words over my head, "I'm all yours--forever." I feel the shiver of laughter pass through his body and into mine, "Sorry, Gie-gee. You can't get rid of me. Even if you make me sleep on the porch, you're going to wake up to me every morning, every day, for the rest of your life."

I breath out quietly, "Really?"

"Really," he nods against the top of my head, "Really. You want to test it tonight?"

"No," I laugh, the sound sticking slightly in the back of my throat. I swallow, then press my lips to the side of his throat, just below his head, "No. Definitely not. I want you right here."

His arm tightens slightly around me, hugging me closer, "Then here I am."

We lay there for a couple of minutes, just holding one another and listening to the rain coming down hard over the roof my my house. I can hear it pattering against the mantle of the bedroom window, and the glass door the patio. Beside me, Gareth's breathing was a steady comfort. Finally, I turned over against his body. His face moved to match mine as I did so, and we ended up staring into one another's eyes.

"Okay," I said quietly, "You can... go down on me, now. Just..." I could feel a bit of heat coming into my cheeks as I fought to admit what I was about to say, "Nobodies' ever... Start slow?"

"Nobody?" His eyebrows rise slightly. I shake my head.

"I mean... Guys have tried, but I..." I shrug, suddenly feeling self-conscious, "I wanted it to be you. Sex is one thing, but this... I wanted this to be you."

I know I've made him speechless, with that. The dark circles of his eyes are hidden by his eyelids as he blinks--once, twice. And then he's laughing. His mouth joins mine, and I feel his hands moving against the back of my body. One slides down and grabs the bottom of my butt cheek, prompting me to throw my leg over his stomach. The other one trails across my back, just between my shoulder bones.

The sensation of his fingers against my bare skin, after the rush of emotions I'd just experienced, was enough to make me feel like my body was vibrating. I felt his mouth pull away from mine, but the very next moment I felt it touch against the corner of my lips, and then my jaw, and then my neck. Letting my head fall back against the pillow, I exhaled softly. His mouth continued moving downward, and I pushed my chest up slightly from the sheets as I felt his mouth find my left nipple. Above the soft swell of my breasts, my nipples were hard enough that they were almost painful. Strangely, I felt some of that pain actually ebb as his teeth grazed my nipple, followed a moment later by his tongue. His hands were travelling constantly; beneath the sheets and my lower back, across my hips, over my stomach.

I heard my breathing fall into a moan as his mouth closed against my breast, drawing the sound out of my body. He sucked at it gently, his other hand rising to catch my second nipple between his thumb and his forefinger. My moaning became something close to a pant; whatever bit of arousal had left me over the course of the last five minutes, this was bringing it back. My legs spread slightly as Gareth's mouth pulled back from my nipple, leaving it hard and slightly throbbing. I felt the one-day shadow of the beard around his face as he kissed his way down my stomach, causing me to wriggle slightly. His hands went to either side of my stomach, holding me down as his mouth went lower. My hands wrapped in the sheets to either side of my body, balling them in my fists and drawing them toward me. I was already a mess--and he hadn't even begun yet. I felt his lips trace a slow line, first up the inside of my left thigh and then my right, both times stopping just before he reached my vagina.

And then, just like that, he didn't stop. Face buried between my thighs, I feel his nose brush against my clit as one finger teases the crease of my labia. Drawing a deep breath, I feel it released in short bursts as his finger slowly moves lower. For a moment, he doesn't move. The expectation of it is too much--I feel myself beginning to wrestle with the blankets around me, my breathing becoming a pant as he teases me with the nothingness of his touch.

Please, just as the word is about to leave my lips--become real--he slides his finger inside of me. That first touch sends sparks exploding through my abdomen, sends a small sound rushing upward through my body and releasing itself breathlessly through my open mouth.

It's been a long time since anybody has touched me like this.

When his lips touch down against my labia, I stifle the cry that tries to break free from my lips. Instead of hushing me, one of his hands reaches out catches mine. He holds it just above my hips, his arm stretching straight out above his head and through the sheets.

When he speaks, I can feel the words against my pussy. The tingling of his voice, and the deeper reverberation of its echo becoming a part of my body.

"Don't hold back--" he brushes his nose across my clit once more as his lips kiss slowly up the crease between my legs, "I want to hear your voice."

And with that, he begins to eat me out. Now there's an expression I never really understood until this very moment--eat me out. I've always thought it should have a different name. That is, until I feel what Gareth's mouth is doing between my legs. His tongue stretches inside of me, licking slowly upward while his lips and cheeks work together to bring the rest of me into his mouth. There's a slight pressure, undulating, growing gradually as he continues.

I can feel my breathing coming apart, above him. I can tell he's moving more slowly than he normally would. I can tell, because the languid trace of each slow lick up the inside of my labia, nearly reaching my clit, feels like white fire drawn against my skin with the tip of a paintbrush. A thick paintbrush.

My toes curl slightly against the front of my feet as he finds a particularly sensitive spot inside of me with his finger. Maybe it was the slight tightening of my thighs around the sides of his head, or the sudden vanishing of my breathing, or just plain-old knowledge, but whatever it is--he's got it. Gareth's tongue moves further up, tracing a slow pattern around my clitoris as the finger inside me finds the spot over and over again.

Something about the sensation changes. It takes me a moment to understand what's happened, but as soon as I do the knowledge makes my back arch slightly and dissolves my breathing once more. Gareth's mouth and his hand have switched places. His tongue pushes inside of me, while his thumb strokes slowly over the raised bump of my clit.

For a moment, I don't understand that I'm cumming. I only feel the tension in my back and the bottom of my feet, how his face presses slightly harder between my legs; not because he's gone down, but because I've come up to meet him. Then I'm grabbing at the sheets, crying out as the orgasm shakes my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

Between my legs, I can feel him laughing. Not hear him. Feel him; the vibrations of it running through the cum-slick skin of my pussy and up through my body.

Nobody has ever touched me like this. Not just going down on me. That's true--but it's not that. Nobody has ever laughed in a way that's gone straight through me and come out on the other side before. Nobody.

With slightly shaky hands, I reach down and pull Gareth away from me by the hair. He makes a slightly interrupted sound as I close my legs to keep his mouth away from me. Each stroke of his tongue makes me want to scream; I could have let him keep going, but something inside of me has become desperate. I need him. I need him inside of me.

"To be continued," his voice holds the edge of--something as he crawls up the bed and draws me into his arms. Something not quite dangerous enough to be a threat, and not quite gentle enough to be a promise.

"So continue--" I breathe the words into his mouth as I bring mine against them.

He pauses for a moment. A pause to hold me. To wrap his strong arms around my back and draw me closer still, as though he's trying to fit the entirety of my body into the crook made between his arms and his stomach. Our kissing slows, tongues finding one another and then separating. His lips linger on mine for a moment. As the last heat of my previous orgasm leave my body, I find myself strangely exhausted.

One moment I'm laying against Gareth's body, feeling the movement of air through his chest as he breathes. The small swaying of the hair over my forehead as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. Smelling the lingering scent of light sweat, rainwater, and that particular pleasant smell that's entirely his own.

The next moment, I'm asleep.

The very first thing I can feel, when my eyes open, is Gareth's body pressed against mine. His bronze skin is bleeding heat, like a furnace. His breathing is so steady that it takes me a moment to realize that he's not asleep, and that through the slight mistiness of my departing dreams, a pair of dark eyes are staring back at me.

"Good morning, sleepy."

"How long have you been awake for?" I ask, blinking quickly to banish the misty quality of my vision. My mouth tastes heavy and slightly stale, but not nearly as bad as morning-breath can be. My voice sounds strange. It's forgotten the moment that he smiles, revealing two rows of white teeth against his sun-tanned skin.

"A couple of hours," he draws me closer still, one hand running down the small of my back nearly to the top of my butt cheeks and then back up again, "I've been dying for some coffee, but I absolutely refused to let you wake up to anything besides this."

I slap a hand down, very gently, against the side of his bare chest.

"Go make coffee, stupid! I'll be right here when you get back."

"Promise?"

"Promise," I nod. He leans in and kisses me; I've never been a woman who melted in anybody's' arms, but that was the only way to describe it. I felt every bit of tension leave my body as he drew me into the kiss. It deepened, and I felt him shift upward ever so slightly so that he was positioned above me. Our mouths moved against one another, my eyes closed as I felt his hand slide under the pillow which my head rested on and push it up. Finally, he let the pillow fall back and separated his mouth from mine.

"Still a one cream girl?" He asks, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. I know he's tasting me on it. The action makes my heart flutter in my chest--the fact that he still remembers my high school coffee order... that's something else entirely.

"Still that girl," I reply. He leans down and kisses me again, barely more than a brush of his lips over mine.

"Be right back."

I watch him rise from the bed, pulling the thin sheet up around my body and curling in on myself comfortably. He doesn't bother to dress. I can see the lines of muscle that run up from his round butt cheeks through his back, to where his shoulder blades press out to form the curves of his shoulders. His thighs match the bum above them; round and heavy. His body is delightfully male, I think. He turns over his shoulder and gives me a wink.

"Like the view?" He asks, reaching his hands over his head and leaning back in a stretch. I know it's entirely for my benefit.

"Not bad," I smile, "I think I enjoy it more from up close. I believe I said something about continue last night."

"Oh, right before you passed out?" He laughs, "Coffee--" returning my smile over his shoulder, he slaps a hand against the bare cheek of his bum, "then sex. I'm pretty sure that's in the bible."

"I'm pretty sure it's not," I laugh.

"Really? I could have sworn that was in there. Matthew 12-15. First though shalt brew, then thou shalt do." He blinks, and some of the humor falls from his face--only some. It's replaced by a quiet, glowing kind of incredulity, "Seriously. How can you be more gorgeous in the morning? It's not fair, you know."

"Come back here," I reach out one arm, "and I'll show you not fair."

"Coffee--" he holds up one finger, "Sex," he holds up a second finger.

"Promise?" I ask, teasingly.

"Promise," he blows a kiss back to me, over the curve of his shoulder. One dark eye drops in another wink, "Every day, gorgeous."

The Hottest Summer I Can Remember ---- THE END.