This One's On Me

I was so lost that I didn't realize when she had finally stopped. I just lay there panting, replaying the moments prior in my head. The throbbing continued even after she covered my lower half with a blanket and wrapped her arm around me, molding herself to my side. I heard her sigh and smack her lips. "Don't try to say anything clever," she said quietly. "Just go to sleep."

"That was..." I mumbled, still unable to find my words.

She sat up and kissed me, hard. "I said go to sleep, kid. I know exactly what it was. I can still taste it on my lips and tongue and---" she stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked on it for a second. "Yeah, on my fingers, too. We can talk about it later. You came pretty hard, though. And I think you should go to sleep. Goodnight."

I fell asleep quickly, physically and mentally exhausted.

Sadly, it wasn't long before I remembered everything that had been on my mind before Blake dug herself into me. And I was up before the sun, crawling out of the bed in the dark and trying not to wake her as well.

I stripped and walked down the hall to the bathroom, cranking on the hot water and stepping into the shower. I stood there beneath the flow for at least 20 minutes, opening my pores and drenching myself. It was the closest thing I had to twenty extra minutes of rest. Then I washed my hair and body, shocked at how sensitive I still was.

Get out, dry off, rub some lotion on so I don't dry out too much.

I threw on a new pair of shorts and a clean beater, then scurried downstairs to the kitchen.

After popping in a CD and heating the skillet, I actually caught myself humming and smiling, just thinking about nothing. Cooking away absentmindedly. Dare I say: happy. Maybe it was post orgasmic bliss, but I felt really good and there was no one around to influence the feeling.

"Mmm," Blake's voice came from behind me. "I thought I smelled something good." She was sitting at my little table, one leg crossed over the other, her elbow resting on her knee. The sun coming through the door to the patio made her hair glow and her eyes shone honey-gold. She halved a smile at me.

I hadn't even heard her come downstairs, so god only knew how long she had been watching me. "I... I hope you like pancakes. They may smell good, but they're just crappy Bisquik."

"I was talking about you, kid," she smiled again.

I blushed and turned back to the skillet.

I burned the first four, which made the dog really happy. Blake tore them into little pieces and tossed them in his direction. The rest came out golden brown and delicious. Well, as delicious as Bisquik can be, I guess. She was very clear in telling me how good they were, though. And that just made me smile.

"Aren't you eating?" she asked.

"I'm not really hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?"

I shrugged. "No appetite."

She forked a couple more pancakes onto her plate. "I don't want to feed anymore to the dog. These are really good. Just what I needed after last night."

I blushed again and stared down at the table, remembering how much of myself I had revealed to her less than 8 hours before.

She smiled and licked some syrup off one of the tines of her fork.

My mouth watered.

Syrup never looked so good. I raised an eyebrow, staring at her some more.

"What's on your mind, there, dollface?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the slur of images that had flooded my brain. Just seeing her tongue flick away that little drop of liquid sugar made me shudder inwardly. Suddenly, I wanted to taste her. I wanted to please her with my tongue and my fingers. I had an appetite for the first time in weeks, but my craving was for her and her alone, and I was ready to sink my teeth into something.

"You've got this... look in your eyes, kid." She shifted in her chair and uncrossed her legs, resting her head in her hand and staring back at me. "Why?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My chest felt hollow with want, and I couldn't get any air. Then I just said it: "I want you."

"Do ya, now?" she smirked.

I nodded.

She put her fork down and set the plate on the floor for the dog to finish. "You really mean it?"

"Mhmm," I nodded again, my voice shaking as I held my breath.

She was very serious as she glared across the table at me. "I need a smoke."

I sighed and almost collapsed. "What the hell?"

She pulled a crushed pack of little cigars out of her jeans pocket and screwed one between her lips, getting up and walking out onto the patio to light it. "Come out here."

I followed her in a daze.

"I just wanna make sure you know what you're saying to me right now," she rasped, vanilla smoke floating from her mouth.

"I thought you were pissed," I chuckled, relieved.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

I groaned. "Yes, I know what I'm saying."

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"Because I won't know what I'm doing!" I laughed.

She giggled. "That's it?"

I nodded.

She sighed and stepped toward me, flicking the cigar away and sighing, "Oh, good." She took hold of my head and kissed me ravenously, that sweet smoke still lingering in her mouth, and in mine when she pulled away. But I couldn't let her stay away for long. I crushed my mouth against hers so hard that it hurt, but the little whimper she released didn't sound like she wanted me to stop. My hands bound her to me. I pressed them into her skin, reaching up underneath her shirt and warming my fingers on her back. I couldn't stop. I pushed her into the wall with my hips and ran my hands through her hair, feeling an electric current running from me into her. Her breath was hot on my face.

She reached up and locked her fingers around my left wrist, guiding my hand down and down and down. My mouth slowed on hers and I watched my fingers slip beneath the waist of her jeans and graze the smooth skin of her hips, like I wasn't even controlling them. But, venturing further, my digits found a soft mound, a patch of hair, and warm, soft folds, moist and welcoming. "Oh god," she sighed, her hips pushing forward into my hand as she closed her mouth on mine again.

"Hold on," I panted. "We're standing outside."

"I don't care---don't stop," she smiled, grabbing my wrist again.

I pulled my hand out, much to both our disappointment, and opened the door for us to go inside. She stepped in slowly but I rushed toward her, kicking the door shut and grabbing her again, pushing her against the counter in the kitchen and biting her lower lip. She beat me to unzipping her jeans, but my hand was down on her again before she even said anything.

Her slick wetness was so inviting and my fingers glided easily into her folds and around her clitoris. She stepped out of her jeans and made some room for me between her legs. I knelt in front of her and she sighed, biting down on her lip rings. "I got so wet last night... I thought I was gonna go insane if I didn't do something soon."

"What made you so wet last night?" I asked, still rubbing her gently.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" she breathed, running a hand through her hair. "Because I don't know if you know this, but you are teasing me so well right now."

I stared up at her and she was trying to smile. "Tell me what's making you wet," I demanded.

"Licking you," she mumbled, and I put my mouth on her. I did a few long strokes just so I could taste her, then I flicked my tongue up and down against her clit and she hummed, "Yeah, that'll do it..."

She was tangy, like the taste pineapple leaves in your mouth after you swallow the fruit and the juice, but not sweet. And the perfume of her flooded my brain to the point that I was intoxicated with it, almost flowery but thick and musky, and hard to get through. It was completely engulfing. I dipped my tongue into her over and over just for my own enjoyment. Just because I wanted to let the taste linger in my mouth. It was tantalizing and I wanted more, but I didn't know how to get it.

I pulled her by the hips across the kitchen and laid her over the table, pushing the chairs aside and kneeling in front of her again, praying to an unknown saint, saying, "Tell me what to do."

"Taste me again," she panted, lifting her legs and holding onto her knees. Seeing her spread before me made my mouth water again. Everything opened and glistened with her moisture. I was almost awed by the sight, almost unable to do anything but look at it.

Almost.

I kissed her inner thighs and around her vulva, inhaling that scent again and taking my time to get to know this sacred spot between her legs. Her abdomen quivered. "What's wrong?" I asked, my mouth still close but not touching her.

"You're sure you've never done this before..." she mumbled, her breathing becoming more erratic. I flicked my tongue against her clit again and she jumped, much more sensitive now, taking someone's name in vain. I smiled inwardly. I had barely done anything and she was responding to me. "Not up and down," she whispered. "Go side to side... across... oh, good..." her words became more spread out as I obeyed her commands: "Now, suck me into... oh, there you go getting ahead of me," she laughed, rushing the sentence before letting out a moan. "Now, lick your finger and put it just inside... right there. Yes, you're right on it---keep going..." her sweet voice trailed off into a stream of moaned obscenities while she wiggled her hips in my face, shaking under my stroking hand and slippery tongue.

Something in her told me to pick up the pace, alternating quickly between stroking her furiously with my fingers and sucking that precious flesh into my mouth. I glanced up at her face, flushed and gorgeous, and she was chewing on her lip, almost to a point that I thought it was bleeding. Her long, steely fingers gripped the edges of my little table and I redirected my concentration, feeling she was nearing her goal. Our goal.

She took a deep breath and almost let out a scream, but quickly restrained herself, cutting the sound off and thrusting her hips up off the table and further into my face, slamming her body back down with a growl, exhaling hard and heaving another labored breath. "Oooh, good god," she whimpered to me, "whatever you do, don't stop. Don't you dare stop. Don't---don't---doahh---" She squeaked another quick scream, covering her mouth with one hand and running the fingers of the other through my hair. I obeyed again, not removing mouth or fingers from her slit until that liquid sugary syrup of hers came pouring out onto my digits and she sang for me like a canary. I could hear myself slipping around inside her, slick and sopping fingers slurping and pressing against that swollen ridge inside her, my steady rhythm slowing as she came down, stuttering and shaking in front of me. "Ya---you---you could pick locks with that thing," she said shakily, trying to look down her own body and see my face.

She lifted her head like it weighed fifty pounds, peering down at me in a blissful daze. Her eyes focused on my mouth: pink from friction and constant movement, my index and middle fingers resting between my lips, my tongue sliding back and forth against the fleshy tips and a smile behind it all. She sighed. I took a deep breath and blew it lightly between her legs, smiling wider.

She pursed her lips and sat up, careful not to tip the little table as she slid off of it and planted herself in my lap. Her scent wafted into my brain again and I swooned as she leaned in and pressed her lips softly against mine. "So sweet," she whispered, looking me in the eyes. That warm, honey color surrounding her pupils reminded me of that drop of syrup that started all this. I kissed her back, rather violently, tasting her, letting her taste me, letting her taste herself. "Sweet," she whispered again.

We made it off the kitchen floor eventually, but I don't know how long it actually took. The surface was cold and hard, but we were comfortable there, not really saying anything, just enjoying the morning and each other's company. She had to leave soon after, but it wasn't until after she left that I really realized what I had done. The fact that she was a girl and I had had sex with her didn't matter. The fact that she had brought me a joy unlike any other did. And so did that fact that I had returned that joy without hesitation, like giving a gift. I wanted to give it again and again, but did I want to give it to her and her alone? Maybe. Maybe not. But the latter didn't sound so bad.