The Neapolitan Question

Except she's slipping her fingers into her blouse, picking at the buttons. Her hair is already looking ruffled, spilling out over her shoulders. I draw breath, enchanted at how delicately she opens the shirt out, revealing a white bra. Lacy, with a pale pink bow at the centre. A pretty bra. Stupidly, I'd wondered if she'd wear sensible underwear of the sort Miss Jean Brodie would have approved.

But no. Not at all.

I reach out to push the shirt off her shoulders; she shivers as it falls from her arms and down to her waist.

'Are you cold?'

'No,' she shakes her head. 'Nervous.'

'Don't be. Blokes love to look. I love to look,' I qualify.

With that, she reaches round to unclasp her bra.

'Wait.' I cup one hand around her right breast, feeling the soft weight of it, running my palm over her nipple and back again, watching Janey's reactions.

She shivers again when I slide the bra off, one strap at a time, to reveal her breasts. They are fuller than I thought, with dark pink nipples that harden to my touch. She wriggles her torso and hips as I stroke and pinch them, one after the other, which feels amazing on my cock.

It's really tempting to lie here and let her do all the work but that'd be unfair. I pull myself up, silently thanking my psychopathic gym trainer for forcing me to do sit-ups until I'm almost puking. Use my hands to support Jane's back as I tip her enough for me to kiss her neck, down to her breasts and back.

The moles are almost black, and as lovely to touch as the ones around her hips. I kiss each one. The muscles in Jane's back seem to tighten as I flick my tongue across the biggest mole; the one that obsessed me the most at Ellie's wedding all those years ago, sitting on the inside of her right breast, lower than the others.

I'm buried in the sensations of Jane's delicate skin, the scent of it, the feel of it on my cheek, exploring the edges of the mole with my tongue, when she sighs loudly and shifts her position on my lap. I raise my head.

She's smiling at me, which seems a good thing.

'I didn't think these were sexy, as such?'

She runs a fingertip across the chain of smaller moles.

'Mm, that may be just particular to me.'

'Oh. I see.'

Her mouth twitches. So I kiss it. She opens up straightaway; more confidently now. The soft pressure of her breasts against my chest feels nice and I realise she's gently rocking her hips over my crotch. I count this as another good sign.

It's been probably nearly four years since I've been in the position of exploring someone for the first time, and I've forgotten what a mix of excited anticipation and nervousness it is to read a woman's body for the first time. And Jane is quiet. Maybe because she's nervous or because that's what she's naturally like. Or both. Which makes it harder for me to read her.

We break away for air. I pull her close to me, stroking my palms flat down her back, feeling for the moles around her hips, circling them with my fingertips, before returning to her shoulders and tipping her backwards again, dipping to plant my mouth over her breast. She flinches, as if she wasn't expecting that, then holds herself very still. I lavish attention on both breasts, pushing at her nipples with my tongue. She starts when I trap them between my lips. But her hips seem still.

I raise my head; sit back.

'Not doing much for you?'

'Oh. Um -- it's nice --,' she trails off, hesitantly.

'That's ok. There's plenty more we can try out.'

'Sorry.'

'What have I said about apologies? None needed, Jane.'

'Ok.' She gives a small shrug.

'Some girls really love it and others say it's nice enough but not mind-blowing.'

'And what does it do for you, Frankie?' she asks, her eyes on the hand I've got curved underneath her left breast, my thumb lazing over the nipple.

I twist my hips up into her.

'What can you feel, hm?'

She smiles a sweet smile. I think she's blushing. If she could look any more appealing, she's managing it now, the pink flush crawling down her throat and into her cleavage.

'Wow, Janey, you are beautiful.'

The smile widens.

'Do you really think so?'

'I know so. I'm looking at you.'

I have to snatch at air as her fingers drift across my stomach. It's the first time she's touched me, aside from the kissing, and it's sending hot volts of pleasure through my body and my cock jumps not once, but twice.

'Oh!' she exclaims, rather loudly. 'Oh, you liked that!'

She moves her fingers again, and, of course, gets the same response. She tilts her hips, making tiny circles over my cock. I watch her trying it out, perhaps recovering old memories of her first boyfriend.

'You keep fit, look at this,' she says, more quietly, lifting my t-shirt higher, brushing her hands over my stomach, making me tense and roll up. 'Ticklish?'

'Uh, something like that,' is all I can mutter, my cock surely doing the communicating for me while I try to re-establish a regular, living heartbeat for myself.

Even these smallest of touches feel like they're setting my lower back on fire. When she leans forward to kiss me, I grab her more abruptly than I meant to, causing her to cough a little bit, but she recovers quickly. We look at each other, close. I pull on her again. This kiss is better. Much less reserved. I splay both hands across the back of her hips, pulling her in and down to me, rocking my own underneath her, needing more friction. Our movements drag a low, quiet moan from her that fills my mouth for a fantastic moment.

I relax my back and bring her with me to lie down flat again. She's definitely getting more relaxed with me now, her movements more trusting and fluid. I roll us as tightly as I can -- this sofa may be bigger than average but I don't want us to end up on the floor -- until she's beneath me. Levering up on one arm I look down into her face and brush her hair away from her eyes and mouth.

'Take your shirt off,' she whispers.

Just that, the quietness of it, sends another bolt of electricity through me. I wrestle it off and drop it somewhere, I don't care where, and smile at her when she tugs at me to lie on her. But I worry about putting my full weight on her and steer us both so I'm more to one side. Which means I can run my hand down her side and halfway across her belly, skimming along the top of her waistband. She's so slim I'm able to slide my fingers inside her shorts without undoing the fly.

Her tongue jerks in my mouth when she feels my hand advancing. I pause; her eyes open wide. I move my hand deeper and feel a gush of air across my face as she breathes more rapidly. When I move it again, she tips her hips up, as if impatient for me to get there.

I smile inside.

Good. Now she's beginning to tell me what she wants.

I push at her underwear until my fingers slip underneath the elastic, her hips rising and falling and rising again. I pull away from her mouth. Her eyes seem wider. And I'm surprised to find her hand fumbling with the button and zip of her own shorts.

No -- delighted.

We tug at them together until they're down her hips enough I can slide them off her long legs. They end up on the floor too. I trace the length of her leg, from the firmness of her calf muscles to the softness of her inner thigh, feeling the rash of goose bumps following my fingertips. Not until I'm satisfied I've appreciated the entire length of her legs do I turn my hand to slip between her thighs, which twitch open then close again, as if she's not sure. I wait for her to relax before working my hand upwards, towards the source of her heat.

'Janey?'

She opens her eyes. They seem out of focus until I say her name a second time, pressing with a bit more intent up against her underwear. Now seems a good time to ask her some more questions.

'Do you make yourself come, Janey? Do you know what you like?'

She nods, warily. Her sex education vocabulary beyond her now, by the look of it.

I kiss her, grateful for her honesty. I'm busy sliding a couple of fingers under the edge of her lacy knickers, wanting to be patient about it, when she finds her voice.

'Why?'

I look back into her eyes.

'It helps if you already know what you like and what you don't'

She nods.

'I don't like fingers --,'

'I know. I remember. It's ok, Jane. I'm not going to do anything you don't like. You just have to let me know if I do something that isn't great for you. Will you?'

She nods again, but her eyes flicker as I find her. Find her hot and pretty slick. Her mouth opens as she stutters through some short breaths.

'Ok?'

I watch the pink flush rise and fan out across her neck and down her chest. I'm beginning to work out what causes her to blush. Which is very pleasing because I want to make it happen over and over again.

Her thighs open wider, the expression in her eyes moving out of focus as her eyelids drift closed.

The blue shadows are almost gone now. I kiss each eyelid. She doesn't open them, but she does smile. So I kiss her mouth too, getting sucked into a longer kiss as I stroke her, happy she's starting to roll herself against my fingers, her hips lifting and rotating. I keep my two fingers moving together, pushing against her flesh more firmly, feeling her responses in the way delicate tremors and pulses chase after my touch.

'Janey, you feel wonderful.'

A quiet noise escapes her. I drag my fingers up and out of her underwear before gripping the lace and tugging at it. She raises her hips without opening her eyes, letting me take them off. Dropping them to the floor, I move back to Jane, to kiss her, pushing her hair back from her face again. Her eyes drift open. She looks so beautiful, her pupils big and dark, her hair splayed out over the dark red velvet.

We break the kiss, but she's still got her eyes open. I dip my fingers between her legs, wanting to see her reaction in her eyes. Except this time, she makes another quiet noise as her breath whistles through her throat and raises her hips to me. And when I touch my fingers to her mouth, she parts her lips to let me push them inside, her tongue licking at them. She doesn't look surprised by her taste.

Reaching for her left hand I take it, holding onto it as I travel down her body, kissing some of her moles, a nipple, the dip of her hip, finally bringing it down to her neat, sweet pussy. She gasps when I touch her own fingertips to where she is swollen and slippery.

'Touch yourself for me, Jane,' I whisper.

Another quiet noise escapes. I hold my breath, watching her index finger moving slowly around her clitoris, gradually widening then deepening the circles she's drawing on herself. It's a huge turn-on for me, watching a girl touch herself; the intimacy of it; the trust. I also want Jane to connect what she knows about her body and desires with what we're doing now.

I lean in to kiss her where her finger is languorously tracing patterns, forcing a slightly louder noise from her which hitches and rattles in her throat as I run the flat of my tongue along her.

'Wh-what are you doing?'

I'm fairly sure this is a rhetorical question, as she surely knows what I'm doing. I lick her again, rolling her taste around my mouth and mind. Her hips follow me, rising up high. I do it again. And again. Listening to her breath stuttering out in shorter bursts now. Her finger retreats. I shut my eyes, wanting to concentrate. Until her fingers begin to stroke at the base of my neck then under and over my ear. I grunt, unable not to. She's remembered this is a good place for me. Any touching here is guaranteed to produce a rush of blood to my head. Both of them, I mean. I rest my cheek against one of her thighs, momentarily overtaken by my own feelings.

She sighs.

I flatten my tongue, pressing it to her clit and rotate it in an imitation of the course her finger has taken. A sharp intake of breath, and she's pressing her thighs wider. Wider still when I touch her with my own fingers, circling them into her hot slickness, moving them around, hoping to make them indistinguishable from my tongue for Janey. Hoping I'm awakening every single nerve ending she has. I sink my tongue into her, pressing inside, finding her really tight. And really hot. And tasty. Stronger. Closer to her essence.

I suck on my own finger for a second or two, getting it wet all the way down. I know she hasn't enjoyed this in the past, but I want to see how she reacts now she's as aroused as this. And I'm curious to feel her for myself.

She's definitely tight. I press my mouth to her, distracting her, working my finger deeper. She feels so alive inside. Fluttering and slickening at my intrusion; her thighs starting to tremble on either side of my face. Encouraging. Lovely.

I use my other hand to stop her hips moving around too much, focused on bringing her to a resolution now. No teasing. Not yet, anyway. It doesn't take long, her legs tightening around me, her hands pulling on my hair, pushing herself at me. It's consuming me; that I've got my mouth full of Janey; that she's going to come for me. Because of me.

There's no better feeling.

She calls out, just once and softly, lifting her back high. Taut. Locked there until the release frees her, her every fibre seeming to flinch and jolt with it. I hold my tongue over her but the way she's clenching my finger inside her, I'm already imagining how she'll feel around my cock. I rest my face against her thigh while she comes down, grinding my crotch into the sofa, almost at the tipping point myself.

Her hands lifting out of my hair brings me out of myself.

I kneel up and over her, the look in her eyes filling me. Words look out of reach, so I kiss her gently and slide onto the sofa next to her, holding her, one arm across her stomach. After a while, she turns into me, tucking her head under my chin and a leg over mine. Her breath brushes down my chest, still a slight rattle to it. My cock throbs; impatient. But my throat tightens at how good it feels to have Janey so close, so warm and relaxed. Her breathing evens out; she's drifting off to sleep. I'm reluctant to move, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible; stroking her hair, running ribbons of it between my fingers.

Eventually I decide it's time to get her upstairs. I brush her arm, shake her a little bit, but there's almost no response, so I extricate myself from her, bend down and pick her up. She really is still much too light. I carry her upstairs, into her room, and lay her out on the bed. She turns herself to lie on her side. I watch, overcome with the desire to climb in beside her. But I don't know if she wants that. Her quietness has unnerved me. And now she's asleep there's no way I can know what she wants from me.

I glide the sheet over her, lean down, kiss her cheek.

'Night, Janey. Sleep tight.'

Downstairs again, I pick up our wine glasses. Give our discarded clothing consideration, but decide to leave it on the floor; a way of reassuring me this really has happened, maybe? I drink some water. Still totally wired. Fill a glass for her, and take it upstairs, putting it on the table next to her bed. She hasn't moved.

'God, you're beautiful,' I think to myself, before pulling the shutters over the windows and leaving the room.

In my own bedroom I yank down my jeans, kicking them off my feet, impatiently, still immersed in Janey's scent. Drunk with it. I squeeze my dick hard in my hand, almost coming just from the relief of the direct touch to my skin. It takes just a few strokes before it boils out of me -- simultaneously one of the best and one of the most frustrating orgasms I can remember. Best because my images of Janey are real this time, not figments of my inadequate imagination. Frustrating because I'm alone.

+++

I pull up in the driveway, panting; sweating hard. The sun's already hot even though it's barely half past seven in the morning.

The run was glorious, watching the sunlight strengthening, casting its brilliance across the deep greens and browns of the countryside. I've run for well over an hour, wishing Ellie was running next to me, wishing she was here to talk to. About Jane. I could really do with her insight. Several times in the course of the hour, I've considered and dismissed the idea of calling her. Phone conversations just can't deliver the subtleties of conversation I want. But can it wait until she's here? And what's going to happen when she does get here -- her, plus her houseful of very inquisitive, very bright kids?

Once I've stretched out a tight calf and caught my breath I wander round to the back, to the kitchen door I left unlocked earlier. The French windows are open too, now. Janey's standing at the hob, her back to me, wearing a pale dress, her hair long down her back, still kinked and damp from the shower. It takes me a while to work out she's waiting for the kettle to boil, she's standing there so still, apparently lost in thought.

I clear my throat, warning her before stepping into the kitchen.

'Oh! Franklin.'

She turns to me, her blush already blooming over her neck. I'm opening my mouth to speak when she gets there first.

'I woke up alone. And when I came to find you, you weren't there. I assumed you'd gone out for a run, but I didn't --,'

I wrap my arms around her, surprised at the strength of her embrace around my neck; pulling her up until her feet lift off the floor, and the frown on her face starts to fade.

'I'm sorry Janey, I thought I'd get back here before you woke up.'

Her brown eyes look like they're filled with slivers of bronze and gold; a trick of the sunlight, I think. She gives me a small smile, still unsure. I kiss her lightly, and feel the smile widen. Even more unexpectedly she lifts her legs to hook them around my waist.

'Well, good morning, Janey,' I smile back at her, loving the feel of her body wrapped around mine. 'This is a nice welcome home.'

Her blush deepens, but she doesn't move.

'Are you ok?' I ask, trying not to sound like a doctor at the bedside, but unable to hide my anxiety.

'Yes,' she smiles. Then frowns. 'I'm fine, Franklin. But what about you? You seem -- worried?'

I lift and adjust her so I can hold her more comfortably.

'You were pretty quiet last night and --,'

'I'm very, very embarrassed I fell asleep like that. Hardly a gracious way to thank you. My father'd be turning in his grave if he knew how ill-mannered I've been.'

I laugh. 'I don't think that's what would be making him spin, Jane.'

'You're right enough,' she laughs back. 'But -- I'm sorry about falling asleep on you last night.'

'S'ok. So long as you were, well -- uh -- ok with what happened,' I stutter, not believing how nervous I am.

She inclines her head.

'You know, you are quite the surprise, Frankie.'

'Oh?'

'Mm. I thought that, you know, with your track record, you'd be a lot more blasé and -- um, I don't know -- carefree about it than you are.'

Her clever eyes have me in their grip. No escape, so I decide not to duck.

'I said sex is more than just baring bodies, didn't I? It's much more intimate than that.'

'Vulnerable, you mean?'

She may have said this gently, but the heat shears up my spine and burns up my breath. I can only blink. She drops her head to one side, considering me.

'Because that's how you're looking, Frankie. Vulnerable.'

I'm unaware of closing my eyes until they pop open at the contact of Jane's mouth on mine. Her kiss is strong and gentle at the same time. She leads and I let her. When she releases me, I set her down onto the floor.

'I need a shower, Jane. I'm a stinking sweaty mess. We'll have some breakfast after that?'

I give her a quick kiss and leave the kitchen, pulling my running shirt up over my head as I reach the stairs, trying to calm my beating heart. Not helped by the glimpse of our discarded clothes still languishing on the living room floor as I walk by.