“You’re not being patient,” he says, amusement evident.
My voice is more growl than girl. “Would you be?”
He laughs, and I get my wish. His mouth takes me, plunging his tongue deep inside, and my arousal comes crashing back with force. It’s not slow this time, not exploring. His hands press my thighs wide as he devours me. Teeth graze my clit followed by lips and tongue. His pressing becomes pulling, and the licking becomes sucking and it inverses, reverses, beyond my control, everything driving me higher and higher as the feelings he gives me pulse deeper and deeper, the rush overtaking me as I imagine the feeling of his cock filling me all the way up and I realize I’m moaning and now I’m coming so hard I can hardly breathe.
The orgasm splinters through me, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. Those few seconds of sheer bliss are always too short. I fall back into myself, slowly blinking myself back to reality.
“Hmm…” James says, and I look down at him. “It seems like I got your pussy dirty. I guess I’ll have to clean it.”
I’m about to ask what on earth he’s taking about when I see him reach down to the ground. He has a garden hose in his hand, and it’s already running. Somewhere in my mind I realize that’s why the grass is wet. I don’t even have time to think. James moves the water and it’s flowing over me, and I gasp because everything is sensitive. The water is cool and the flow of it feels so good. He moves the water around, and it hits different parts of me, sending aftershocks through my nerves.
I watch James, and he is utterly focused on the water and my pussy. Then his fingers move and I understand his plan. He covers the water with his fingers and suddenly there’s hard pressure and— “Oh god.”
He’s drawing patterns on me with the water, always returning to my clit and teasing. Hard pressure, then soft, then hard again. It doesn’t take me long to realize that I’m going to come again. “Please,” I say, “Please. Yes. Yes.” The water moves back and forth over my clit and I can’t stop asking him. “Please don’t stop.”
The pressure slows, water moving in lazy circles over my pussy, “Are you begging me?” James asks.
“God, yes. Please. Make me come. Please.”
James locks his eyes on mine, and suddenly the water pressure is harder than it’s ever been. He doesn’t look away as he works it over my clit and I lose track of everything. He moves the water, circles and crosses, never stopping, and everywhere it goes is sheer pleasure. I still beg him to let me come, I’m so close, God, please. Suddenly his hand stops, the water at full force directly on my clit, and I break open.
I hold onto the bench as my orgasm wrenches through me in spasms. I feel heat and I see light. I savor that indescribable feeling deep in my gut. The water doesn’t stop and neither does my orgasm. I feel like it goes on forever and I’m fine staying here. I don’t even feel myself lie down. The pressure fades slowly back to a gentle flow, and then it’s gone. When I open my eyes again, I’m looking up at the sky. I feel his finger press against the top of my clit, dragging down through my folds, and dipping inside me. I shudder in response.
I feel James pull my skirt down over my legs again. He gets up, sits on the bench next to me. He pulls my legs over his. I feel like I should say something, anything. But I can’t find my voice to say anything. Instead I lean forward and kiss him.
“You are stunning when you come,” he says, and I blush.
I’m furious at my body for blushing at that when his tongue was just inside me.
“Plus,” he says, with a smirk on his face, “I got you to beg.”
I make a face. “Well, that won’t happen again.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.” I smile.
We sit together in silence, looking at the garden. I’m struck by how comfortable this is. I’m also struck by how much I enjoy it, just sitting here together relaxing.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asks.
That’s a good question. I shrug, mulling it over. “I’m going to do the best I can, make the best impression I can. But that’s all I can do. Then it’s out of my hands.”
“Good attitude to have.”
I laugh. “Well, I’ve had a lot of rejections by now—it’s mostly self-preservation.”
“I’m sure you’ll be great,” he says.
We sit in silence again, and then we hear the front gate. My father is home.
“I guess that’s my cue.” He extricates himself from my legs, and leans over to kiss me. “In case I don’t see you before, I wish you the very best of luck.”