When Lines Get Tangled

Her tongue lapped at my nubs. I swear I could feel every one of its taste buds rasping them, and the sensation made me as hard as a rock. When she lightly bit at one, I almost came unglued with pleasure.

"Oh, frack ."

"What's wrong?" she said coyly.

"I hope I don't sound weird, but what you're doing feels really good."

"Why do you think feeling good is weird? You think women should be the only gender that should enjoy nipple play?"

"No one else has ever⁠—"

"Let's find other pleasant things neither of us has experienced. I want us to experiment, explore, learn …" she whimpered as she stroked me through my pants.

I grinned. "Ooh. An adult playdate?"

She giggled and nodded sultrily. "Yeah. Very adult."

I followed her to her bedroom. She turned on a Bluetooth speaker situated atop a chest of drawers and selected some music on her phone. She motioned for me to sit on the foot of her bed.

I watched as she danced alone to soft, ambient, down-tempo music. Her body was a work of art, and the way she moved it was even more so. She began to disrobe as she swayed to an instrumental piece, beginning by tugging her shirt's tail from the waist of her slacks.

She released each button slowly before she let them fall to the carpet. I grinned when I saw her bra. Its style suggested she hadn't planned on such an evening when she'd dressed that morning.

"It's work clothes, sweetheart, so don't judge," she chastised with a cute grin.

I smiled. "I'm not complaining."

I was looking forward to her bra's removal in due course and suckling what were hidden inside its cups.

She swayed her hips mesmerizingly in a very slow pirouette, allowing my eyes to feast on her. When she had her back to me, I heard her lower her zipper, and she waggled her hips as her slacks were drawn beyond them.

I tried to stifle my laugh, but it didn't work. Courtney wasn't only phenomenally skilled at her slow tease but was also incredibly funny. The sultry, sensual dance was knocked completely out of context by the comic-strip dogs depicted on her panties.

Sexy? Not in the lacy frilly way. They were sexy by being cute as could be, snuggly covering her gorgeous little butt. After she slipped her pants off her feet, I beckoned her to me so I could kiss a few of the doggies' noses. She removed her bra while I was occupied, then turned back around and offered me the delicious morsels cresting her breasts.

"If what I did felt the same for you as what you're doing does to me, you're definitely not weird." She softly sighed, running her fingers through my hair as I suckled her little tits.

Her left nipple was shy, but it started to make its appearance when I sucked more firmly.

"Easy ," she gasped and pulled away. "That one's a lot more sensitive. Be gentle. Otherwise, it's painful, okay?"

"God. I've hurt you again ," I said with self-frustration.

She palmed my chin and lifted my head to look me in the eyes.

"Listen to me, Peter. Stop berating yourself. It's going to take us some time to learn each other's likes and dislikes, pleasure points and no-goes. I will do my best to tell you what I like and what I don't, and I beg you to be open the same way with me, too. Transparency can only lead to better things, right?"

I knew Courtney was a brilliant woman, and I understood the subtext of her statement. Transparency in all things. I understood completely .

"Like this?" I said before offering careful affection to her inverted nipple.

"Yeah." She sighed softly. "Oh yeah. Just like that."

I held her warm, firm, cotton-clad buttocks in my palms, giving them gentle caresses and soft kneads.

"Oh, your hands ," she whimpered.

"Am I doing something wrong again?"

"God no. Your hands are so gentle, but I completely sense your desire through them."

I brought her lips to mine, searching, seeking her tongue. I slipped my hands into her panties and caressed her ass as we kissed.

"Will you dance for me?" she whispered, hinting how me still being half dressed was an imbalance.

I chuckled. "Probably not as good as you, but I'll try."

The fact that she laughed as I moved wasn't upsetting at all. Knowing my own inability and limitations, I went the total opposite direction and danced farcically. I turned my back to her while I removed my briefs and hung them from my hardness.

Her eyes flew wide open, and she laughed even harder when I turned around, rotating my hips to swing my briefs in circles. She beckoned me to her with a crooking finger. I stepped closer. She removed the clothing from my shaft and stroked me softly, hearing my deep, pleased sigh.

"Absolute E for effort," she whispered.

She leaned forward a little from her sit and kissed the tip of my dick. Her thumb stroked the sensitive spot under its glans, and her other hand supported my scrotum. She brought me into her mouth, and I felt her tongue probing my hole. Her hand moved farther back, and a finger stroked the sensitive skin behind my balls.

Widening my stance, I sighed deeply. "That feels fantastic."

"Yeah?" she said, looking up at my eyes with a smile.

I nodded.

"It's been a long and laborious day. Let's enjoy a shower together so we can explore," she said.

"I like that idea."

I also liked how she'd chosen unassuming words to suggest we communally rid ourselves of a day's worth of funk.

Soapy hands and fingers worked magic. I wasn't yet seeking one, but a very pleasant orgasm enveloped me as she was washing my penis, scrotum, and the area behind them. I think it was the surprise of a finger slipping into a certain place that made it happen. I loved the incredible intimacy of the moment, as well as the new sensations Courtney gave me.

I reciprocated after she washed my cum off her chest. Her mewls and squeaks returned, accompanied by a low, throaty groan when I slowly introduced a soapy finger into her bottom.

We had to get out of the shower when the water began to run tepid. We'd been at it long enough to exhaust the tank. I was spent as well, and hoped it'd be for a shorter amount of time than our shower had taken.

"No one has ever done that to me before," I said when we settled into her warm bed.

"Me neither. Such a thing never even crossed my mind. It felt so good when you were doing it while sucking my clit," she said with a cute giggle. "My orgasm seemed so much stronger. Every contraction felt so much more intense ."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Peter. Yes !" She giggled again.

"I do have to admit that you have a cute booty-hole."

She burst out laughing to the point she turned pink.

"Oh, jeez !" she gasped between laughs. "Thanks !"

Her laughter was infectious, and I caught a case of it. When our fits settled, she kissed me tenderly.

"There's something about you I can't put my finger on."

I chuckled and pointed toward her bathroom door. "Still? After where you put it in there?"

"You know what I mean." She smiled. "I simply can't figure out what makes you so much different."

"I don't know, either. But I feel very much the same way about you," I agreed, positioning myself between her legs. She guided me to her entrance.

"Take your time, Peter. Remember. Take me slowly."

"I don't want to take you at all ."

"No?" she whined, still trying to bring me into her. I prevented her from succeeding.

"No. I want us to make love ."

"Peter?"

"Yeah, baby?" I said as I entered her body, being careful not to cause her any discomfort as I had the last time I tried to penetrate her too quickly.

Her sudden uptake of breath told me that my subtly shielded confession had squarely hit its mark, as had my penis hit its own.

"Don't make me chase it," she cried. "Please. Say it. Please !"

"I'm so in love with you I can't see straight. I love you, Court."

She beamed. "I love you, too, Peter."

Our lovemaking was slow and sensual. I took care to avoid getting close to the point of no return, and Courtney was willing to help me prolong our coition. We changed positions several times, relinquishing dominance in turns.

"Courtney, cum for me. I can't last much longer."

"I have like twice already," she groaned, placing her ankles on my shoulders. "Fuck me like you mean it!"

Her vulgar words propelled me forward, and the sounds her pussy made as I plunged repeatedly into it encouraged me to make it even wetter. On my final thrust, I buried my cock inside her all the way to the root and climaxed into her warmth with a loud groan.

"You okay?" I asked after I collapsed next to her.

"Never better," she said with a serene expression. "I'm so completely relaxed I could fall asleep right now."

"Me, too," I agreed, turning out the lights.

I settled next to her under the covers and brought her closer to me in the warmth and stillness of night.

I think a few of our coworkers held a bit of resentment. While Courtney and I were completely professional at work, our relationship wasn't exactly a secret. She was definitely a valued employee but was then an asset of Dunn and Kruger.

We spent much of the Thanksgiving holidays together, only apart from each other on the Thursday when she went to Indy to see family. Since she'd already had the traditional turkey feast, I smoked a brisket's flat and baked some massive potatoes for our dinner together the following Saturday.

I was definitely glad for the change of pace, considering even the smallest of turkeys would be massively oversized for only two people. I'd have invited my sister and her boyfriend, but he and his family extended an invitation to her to spend the week with them at their time-share in Perdido Key, Florida.

Her Instagram explosions seemed evidence enough that she was having the time of her life. Part of their week consisted of a celebration of the anniversary of their first date. I admit I'd become fairly fond of the guy who treated my sister with devotion and utter respect. Plus, it'd been the first vacation she'd taken which included distant travel. All the others since her injury were only time off from work or short road trips.

My leg almost fell into the gulf while parasailing! she titled a TikTok. The fifteen second video made Courtney and me laugh.

The Estes Group's employees were given three days off. Dunn & Kruger's smaller staff was given the week, but Courtney worked from her home during the first two days because she wanted to continue gaining speed in her new job as quickly as she could.

For the Christmas holidays, we rented an Airbnb for a week of skiing in Winter Park, Colorado.

I could manage the green circle pistes, but blue squares posed some challenges. Courtney, however, skied them as if they were bunny slopes. Neither of us had any problems in après-ski events, though.

The owner of the quaint and cozy cabin had done a beautiful job of decorating the entire place for the holiday. It was far from gaudy or overboard, it was … homey. While a few were waiting under the tree back home, we exchanged some gifts we'd brought on Christmas morning.

She insisted I go first. I opened the box to find a necktie. Its design featured bottles of the various varieties of Tabasco sauces. She'd even folded it in such a way it concealed the cutest little eighth-ounce miniature bottle within it.

I adored her gift because it was so thoughtful and unique, and demonstrated how well she knew my personality. After all, I had a reputation to protect. I was known in some circles as the attorney who wore unusual ties with his suits. It didn't hurt that I loved the sauce, either, and was looking forward to a few dashes of it on the homemade biscuits with sausage gravy we were planning to have for brunch.

What I gifted her gave her a fit of giggles. I'd selected a half-dozen small cotton hip-hugger panties with various humorous words or pictures.

"I love these, Peter!" She laughed as she investigated every pair. "I'm putting them in the washing machine right now because I want to wear some while we're here! Thank you!"

Given her excitement, I considered those seventy-two dollars to be the best I'd ever spent. I'd figured out that, in addition to the lace and silk lovelies, she had a fondness for underwear that was simply fun . Of course, I'd bought them because I had an appetite for seeing her in such cute things. She sated it nicely, often parading around the cabin in nothing but a camisole over a pair. I'm pretty sure I nuzzled and kissed her butt or pussy through every pair of them during our remaining time there.

We spent the next half hour in the kitchen. Courtney made scratch biscuit dough from a recipe she had in memory. She told me it was passed down through her matriarchal lineage for at least five generations. We couldn't find a rolling pin in the kitchen but managed to flatten the dough into compliance using a skillet. And who needs biscuit cutters when an inverted drinking glass can do the job?

Once the half-dozen biscuits were in the oven, she taught me how to make the gravy. I browned a half-pound of breakfast sausage, drained it, added a splash of water to deglaze the fond, dusted it with a quarter cup of flour, then slowly added two cups of milk. Once it began to bubble and thicken, she shut off the heat and sat the skillet to the side for the gravy to cool to something less than creamy lava. Our breakfast was simple but incredibly delicious comfort food.

On our arrival back to Chicago on New Year's Eve, she drove us the short distance to Indianapolis to introduce me to her family. Her former home was situated in a small cul-de-sac. The half dozen or so neighbors had a long-standing tradition of barricading the entry and having a party. It was quite the shindig with at least fifty people in attendance.

I knew no one other than Courtney, but she did her best to make sure I felt at ease and welcome in the crowd of strangers to me who weren't to her. After all, she'd lived fifteen years in the neighborhood before she moved to Chicago. She'd grown up there.

When the lawyer jokes started, Courtney felt compelled to defend me until I laughed pretty hard at a clever bon mot , one I'd not heard before, which was a rarity.

"I'm going to share that one when I get back to the office," I said, clapping the fellow who told it on his shoulder.

The guy happened to be Courtney's younger sister's boyfriend. I caught Courtney's acknowledging, appreciative wink.

The soirée ended at one o'clock, and I crashed on a pullout couch in the finished basement while Courtney slept in her own bed two floors above. Her father's house, her father's rules, and I had no issues with it.

The next morning, I was invited to her bedroom while she packed. It seemed like a time capsule. She said it looked the same then as it did the days after she'd graduated college and moved to Chicago to start her independent life about a decade earlier. We had an opportunity to at least enjoy a little intimacy after lunch and before we departed for Chicago.

"I wish I could take my clothes off and mount you right now," she whispered, caressing my butt while we held each other close.

"That'd totally weird me out."

"Why?"

"Your collage, for one thing. I definitely would've crushed on you if I'd met you then," I said, pointing to what looked like a high school graduation commencement picture on a poster-sized pin board full of photographs which spanned years .

"You were about to start law school the same year, right?"

"Yep," I answered, sitting on her bed. "Then there's that boy you're hanging from."

She laughed. "That boy was … doesn't matter. He forgot me after we started college."

"It looks like your father is staring through my soul in this one," I said, pointing to another. I assumed she was sixteen at the time because they were standing in front of a car and he was handing her some keys.

"I'll take it off the wall next time."

"Next time?" I asked.

"Yeah. Next time," she whispered. "I know it sounds weird, Peter, but I fantasize about making love to you in here."

Her words flung through my heart. "Oh?"

"Yes, Peter. You're sitting on the bed I grew up in, you know? You're such an important part of my life. You and I making love here … it'd complete a wonderful circle."

"I love you, Court," I said as tears began to bead in my eyes.

"I know you do, baby, and I love you, too. Why are you tearing up?"

"Because I wish my parents could've met you ."

She was silent for several long moments.

"Where are they now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Where are they buried? Maybe we could go there together, you know?"

"They were cremated. My sister and I cast their ashes⁠—" I barely said, trying and failing to maintain my composure.

"It's okay. I understand," she whispered as I began to cry. "I've got you, Peter. I've got you. You're safe with me. Just let it out. It's okay."

"They would've loved you, Courtney," I cried, letting the last vestiges of my shields down, "My dad would've kept me from being the asshole I was to you months ago if I could have confided in him."

My love held me in her arms, allowing my emotions to course as I wept.

"Eleven years ago. It was eleven years ago today when my sister found them. I miss them so much."

"I can only imagine, honey," she whispered, softly kissing my forehead and temple. She stroked my back with the tips of her fingers. "But there's more, isn't there."

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. There is. There's something else you're holding in. Talk to me, Peter. I'm here for you. Always."

"I'm scared, Courtney. I'm kinda scared ."

"Why?" she asked tenderly.

"I feel like I'm losing my path. Like I don't know where I'm going."

"How come?"

"After our parents died, my whole world revolved around taking care of my sister. She was only fourteen , Court! A fourteen-year-old girl found our parents dead in their bed because some fucking asshole couldn't be bothered to maintain a fucking boiler !"

My filter had completely come off. I heard myself cursing, and I didn't care.

"I was barely twenty-two, and I spent the next nine years of my life doing everything I could do to raise her. If she hadn't been at a New Year's Eve sleepover with some friends from her school, she'd be dead, too.

"Shit , Courtney! I did my best to raise my kid sister through all the things teenage girls … that age deal with, get her through college, and … hell. You were once fourteen, so you know what I'm talking about. Probably better than me."

Courtney's smile was so tender and conveyed absolute compassionate understanding.

"I do," she said. "Puberty is hard on girls. Boys trip over their own feet, get a new voice, and grow hair in strange places is all, while girls … yeah. I can only imagine how awkward some of it must have been for you … really both of you."

"So yeah. I'm doing all of that while navigating law school, prepping for the bar exam, trying to start a career, and getting her through school, then barely two years after she graduated from CUNY she lost her leg, and I had to navigate that .

"She's regained her independence, doesn't need me anymore, and I feel like I have no direction. I don't know where to go next."

"Sounds like you're suffering a hell of a case of empty nest syndrome."

"Crazy, isn't it?"

"It's not. I can't put myself in your shoes, but I sort of understand what you're feeling. I think your parents would be incredibly proud of what you've done."