My pussy clenches. He's been working up to that for a long time, and I can't say that I'm not ready-I am-I'm just nervous. My mouth is suddenly dry. "Okay."
He leaves the bed, digging in his bag. Then he pulls out a bottle of lube and tosses it over to me.
I tell him, "You knew you were going to try to get me to do this."
The only response I get is his slow smile. He gets back in bed, turns me on my side, and lies behind me. I can hear him stroking his cock with the lube and I shudder in anticipation. Then I feel his fingers probing, pushing into me. My body heats in response. I know this feeling, I know the kind of orgasms he can give me from here, but his cock … it's so much larger. His fingers disappear and I feel that same cock against my ass. God it feels even bigger than when it's in my pussy.
James reaches around and starts to play with my clit, teasing me and warming me up as he works into my ass. I'm gasping as he pushes in, and I've never felt this full. He goes slowly, but he doesn't stop. It seems to last forever and I feel him in such a different way and it hits different nerves. I already feel one of those deep orgasms coming on, and he circles my clit suddenly, so fiercely that I come unexpectedly in a hot rush.
It's fast and bright and I cry out as he pushes the rest of the way into me. He toys with my pussy, drawing my orgasm out from my body, as everything comes down from the overload and adjusts to the feeling of him in my ass.
Just when I think I've adjusted, he moves his hips, and I curse. He's so far in me and it feels amazing and I can't believe he's all the way inside. His lips are on my neck and his hand drifts up to my breasts, tweaking my nipples before returning to my pussy. He starts to rock, and I know that I'm going to come again. On instinct, I squeeze my ass around him and he growls in my ear, rocking faster. He slips his fingers inside my pussy and I see stars. I love this feeling of being fucked in both places, and he knows that, and it's so much better now.
I can't breathe, I'm moaning so much, I can't stop. Every thrust into my ass sets off a lightning burst of pleasure behind my eyes and he finger fucks my pussy relentlessly, driving me to the edge and over. I am not prepared. The world goes a blinding shade of white and I scream James's name. Everything in me contracts, and I hear him cry out. The pleasure comes in waves that wreck my body-I've never had an orgasm like this-and dark spots form in front of my eyes as another orgasm hits on the heels of the first. My entire body goes limp and I am at the mercy of this pleasure. I can't move, I can't see. I can only feel.
James is still in my ass and I feel him come, warming me from the inside. When he slips out I feel the loss. I'm still in free fall, my body oversensitive and tingling. He turns me over toward him, and he's smiling. "I think that was worth the wait."
"We will be doing that again." I let him kiss me, still unable to move properly.
I close my eyes, my body pulling me towards delicious sleep.
"If you're going to sleep, I suppose that means I earned my manhood again."
I smile, "We'll see how I feel when I wake up." His cock stirs between us, and I laugh. I tell him, "I love you."
"I love you too." He rolls away from me and I hear him digging in his bag, but I'm already halfway gone. It's only when I feel him tug at my left hand that I manage to open them. I catch him just as he slips the ring onto my finger. "James," I say, "What are you doing?"
His face is chagrined. "I should have waited longer. I was hoping you'd wake up and see it."
"Are you serious?"
He rolls over me, kissing me so deeply that it lights that fire in my belly. "I couldn't be more serious."
"You have to say it."
He pulls back from me, kneeling on the bed. Totally naked and glorious. "Vera Caldwell, will you marry me?"
I bite my lip to keep the smile on my face from growing out of control. I didn't think anyone could ever be this happy. It fills me up to bursting with joy and light. "Yes."
His smile matches mine and he's kissing me again, tangling us in the sheets.
Sleep is out of the question.
THE END
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Chapter 1
Consoling my best friend Stephanie has turned into a fulltime job. I feel for her, I do. It must suck to have every single boyfriend she's ever had cheat on her. But when you're only attracted to the bad boys, what do you expect? They don't get those bad reputations by handing out flowers and writing love letters with words that make Hallmark cards seem like scribblings on the stalls of men's bathrooms.
Stephanie and I go back and forth instant messaging each other. It's been almost a month since the "incident" with her ex and yet it's still all she talks about. I guess I'd feel the same way if I were her, but I've never stuck around relationships long enough to be cheated on. I've never connected with someone enough to care about what they do when I'm not around.
While she vents, I check out the latest Twitter gossip. There's always someone saying the wrong thing while the internet crouches down like some creep in a back alley waiting to pounce. Sometimes it's better than reality TV.
Stephanie: Why are guys such dicks?
Me: You're asking the wrong person.
I switch over to Twitter again. Some D-list celebrity has finally made it back into the spotlight over some sexist remark and now suddenly, everyone is going insane. I'm glad nothing I post is worth talking about. Despite my five thousand followers, I doubt anyone would notice me even if I said something rude and offensive. Most people just follow me so I'll follow them back, or because we live in the same town. It's all so pointless, and damn entertaining at the same time.
Stephanie: Whats so wrong with me that all those fucker's feel the need to be with someone else WHILE their still with me.
Her grammar is atrocious.
Me: There's nothing wrong with you. You are amazing, and you can do so much better.
Stephanie: I'll never find another guy like him again.
Dramatic as ever.
I roll my eyes. Me: Sure you will. If you sit in front of the jail long enough, the next love of your life will walk out of those doors any minute now.
Stephanie: Your not funny.
I smile at the bright screen.
Me: *you're*.
Stephanie: I hate you.
I check out Twitter again. Things have quieted down for the most part, but I leave it open so I can check in from time to time.
Stephanie: I'm going to send you a picture.
Me: Of what?
Stephanie: My burning rash. Tell me if it looks infected.
Oh god. She's my best friend and I love her to pieces, but sometimes I think we've grown too close.
I start to type back, begging her not to, but realize I was starting to reply in my Twitter-feed instead. I delete it and switch back to Instant Messenger. She already sent the photo. It pops up on my screen and I breathe a sigh of relief. The title says Infection, but it's a picture of her ex and his new girlfriend.
Stephanie's boyfriend isn't great-looking, but he has a nice body and never seems to have trouble with the ladies. Stephanie thinks he looks like Ryan Gosling. Maybe if you squint hard enough and put a picture of Ryan Gosling in front of his face there might be some resemblance. The new girlfriend, on the other hand, is stunning. Long blond hair, perfect boobs, shapely legs in a short skirt. Of course I don't tell Stephanie that.
Me: She's gangrene.
Because that's what good friends do.
Stephanie: I'm mostly pissed about the sex though. He was AMAZING in the sack. It was like NASCAR up in our bed. Zero to Fuck Yea! in five minutes flat.
I cringe while picturing his face in the throes of an orgasm, those bulging eyes, balmy skin no matter the weather.
Me: You're lucky.
Stephanie: How so?
I can't believe I'm about to admit this to the person with the biggest mouth, but maybe it will make her feel better.
Me: What I'm about to tell you better never fucking leave this space.
Stephanie: And you're the one always calling me overly dramatic.
Me: I'm serious. If you don't make me a promise, I won't tell you.
Stephanie: Fine. I promise.
Pop-up ads fill my screen, slowing down my computer. I click out of them before I reply.
Me: I've never actually had a guy give me an orgasm before.
I've never told her that. I probably should've kept it to myself. The longer I sit with the thought, the more I start to regret telling her.
I wait for her to say something about it-freak out, more like it. It's not the type of confession Stephanie will just let go.
One minute goes by, then two, and still nothing. Maybe she's too busy rolling around on the floor, laughing.
Fuck. Now I'm really regretting it. Stephanie and I tell each other some personal shit, but this might be over the line. This has potential to become an anvil she'll hold over my head for the rest of my life. A pointed weapon she can jab me with whenever she feels the need to entertain herself.