Oh God.
God.
Perfect.
My neck righted and I felt him still moving inside me, fast, hard, deep, God, gorgeous, as my eyes opened and I saw his on me. His face was dark, his eyes intense, his breath labored. His forearm moved up an inch so his fingers drove into my hair then fisted, pushing up, so my head went up and his mouth crushed down on mine just as his hand at my ass pulled up hard. He drove deeper, harder, faster and I whimpered into his mouth as his tongue worked mine and his cock worked me.
He stopped kissing me and growled against my lips, “If it’s too much, baby, you gotta –”
“Don’t stop,” I begged because my limbs were tensing, my sex was spasming. “Don’t stop, Mitch, baby, please.”
He didn’t stop, his mouth crushed down on mine again, his hand at my ass hauled me up further to take him even deeper. It was then that I had the second best, sweetest, far more intense (but not as long) orgasm in my life. It was beyond perfect because, as I cried out into Mitch’s mouth, he groaned into mine as he buried himself to the root and stayed planted.
It took some time to come down because I didn’t push it. I did it savoring his weight, his fingers in my hair, his lips moving tenderly on mine, his hand at my ass gliding up and becoming an arm wrapped possessively around the top of my hips.
His lips slid across my cheek and to my ear and his arm around my hips gave me a squeeze when he asked in a whisper, “How’s the real world feel this mornin’, baby?”
My arms and legs tensed, his head came up and I saw his unbelievably sexy, satisfied face and his eyes warmer and gentler and more beautiful than I’d ever seen them (and that was saying something).
Seeing that, I answered, I did it openly, honestly, exposing everything and I did it by grinning.
He grinned back.
He dipped his head, touched his mouth to mine in a light kiss then said against it, “Don’t move.”
After that, he carefully slid out, rolled off me and out of bed, flicking the covers over me and I blinked at the ceiling as I closed my legs. I turned to my side pulling my knees up, tucking my hands under my cheek on the pillow. I caught just a glimpse of his contoured back and his beautiful behind in his pajama bottoms before he disappeared in the bathroom.
Unlike what everyone thought of me in Iowa, I left that small town a virgin. It wasn’t until I was twenty and after three months of dating a guy in Denver that I gave it up.
This did not go well mostly because sex was messed up in my head due to my mother’s antics, her fuck buddies trying it on with me and the boys in high school being jerks. Unfortunately, my boyfriend at the time was also young. He was very good-looking (definite Ten material, looks-wise, I would find out after giving him my virginity that he was more like a One Point Five otherwise). He’d also invested three months in his score and to say he was disappointed and insensitive would have been an understatement. He was pissed, he said some not very nice things while still in my bed, he left and I never heard from him again.
Needless to say, after that, I wasn’t fired up to jump in the sack again and it wasn’t until Destry that I gave it another go.
Destry was, at first, very patient and this was one of the reasons I stayed with him even though, most other times, he was a jerk. He was older than my first boyfriend and seemed to enjoy coaxing a response from me. Considering my first experience was shit, it took him even longer to get me into his bed (four and a half months). Once there, he again was patient, seemingly understanding and seemingly enjoyed being my teacher which was another reason why I stayed with him. I was hesitant to the point of shy but that didn’t mean I didn’t learn from Destry or enjoy what we did. I did. I just didn’t learn fast enough.
Therefore, he lost patience with being my teacher when my responses didn’t satisfy him or I wasn’t up for trying new things that made me uncomfortable.
He broke up with me before he broke through.
After that, I never thought about it much. It wasn’t that sex freaked me out it was just that I didn’t have anyone in my life so I didn’t need to think about it.
It was now I knew why my responses to Destry weren’t satisfactory.
Because Destry was not only not a good teacher, he was shit in bed.
And I knew this because Mitch was not shit in bed. Mitch was gentle and intuitive. Mitch didn’t put effort into sex, he just naturally guided the flow and where he guided it was freaking sensational.
Which meant he didn’t even have to try to teach me. I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to try. With Mitch guiding me, obviously, it came effortlessly and I knew this because I came effortlessly.