I had made it clear to you early on that living with me would be an adventure. You had no idea what adventure that would be, as I could tell.
It had only taken one night. One night of getting you drunk enough to admit your feelings for me. Then your half hearted recantation that only made me smile. I don't think you remembered it in the morning, you still gave me that guilty look you always seemed to have. That look that said, "I've pictured you doing awful things to me but I can't ever tell you that."
You didn't have to tell me. I already knew.
I came close to you, that night, you at the counter washing a dish and imploring you to turn around. The fear that ran across your face was amazing, the realization that what was going to happen making me smirk. You could fight me but that wouldn't be too much fun now would it? Besides, I had so many things I could teach you...
Kissing you made you shudder, I knew that too. My beard was soft enough that it didn't sting, thick enough to satisfy some primal need in you to submit. I had the experience that could mold you or break you and it made me giddy inside to know it. Your tongue touches my lips cautiously and I kiss you harder, gripping the back of your neck and entwining my fingers in the hair there. Your skin was hot, searing, and I could feel your pulse flutter, the surprised but slightly frightened gasp that resulted as I pulled you closer.
We had to move but I knew we couldn't break apart. One moment is all you'd need to have apprehension flow into your eyes, reasoning dominate your mind. No, no, I couldn't have that, young lady. Not at all. I pull you into the living room and down on the couch, making quick work of your clothing. I wasn't worried about my own--you wouldn't be touching me and I only had to unzip my fly. I just wanted inside of you but knew my limitations.
My hand snaked down, fingers finding her warm and wet, nearly dripping and I chuckle, knowing it rumbled in my chest. "You can't hide what your body says," I say and I feel you shiver. I wanted you to fear me but at the same time, need me. It was an odd dichotomy but one I was willing to live with. My other hand held your breasts, soft, heavy even for their size and I pinch a nipple gently.
A moan, a truely female moan! God if you could just make that noise every day! I knew then that the hard ball exterior you put up was just that, an exterior. You were as feminine as any other woman and here, in my hand, writhing naked, sweat already forming a light sheen on you, I knew I had to have you. I'm sure you thought I didn't know how deep your thoughts went but I'm a man and my needs had to be fulfilled. I slip two fingers inside of you, hearing you whimper, eyes shooting open in surprise--never thought I'd do that huh? I do this until your breath is coming just a little too fast, your cries just a little too pleading and I pull away, chuckling at the resulting whimper.
"I promise I have better things for you," I whispered. I knew you were slick already, juices dripping down past their origin into depths never probed. I take an index finger and push it past the ring of muscle, watching your face contort in pain briefly. But the movement of your hips, the small circles and jerky movements gave you away; it may hurt but you liked it. And judging how your mouth fell open into a lustful 'o', I'd hazard to guess that you liked it a lot.
More fingers, more moaning. You can be this vocal huh? I can still see reluctance taint your face because I'm not your long time lover but this is for the better. I promise. I need to be inside of you and this is as close as I can get. Quickly I unzip my jeans, my hardness springing free. I wasn't the length of a porn star but I could've matched them in girth and was quite happy with my just over half of a foot. A curious hand--oh!--reaches down but I swat it gently away. No, bad girl. No playing with the merchandise. At least not before you buy it...
Using my own precum and some of hers, I was ready. I pushed forward at her virgin entrance, feeling hot, slick tightness, forcing my eyes to remain open as you throw an arm over your face. What makes you hide? Is it guilt? Or is it to deny me the pleasure in your face? I pull your wrist away, I want to see what I'm doing to you. I take a deep breath--goddamn girl, you're tight--and give a shallow thrust, watching with a manly glee that it made your breasts jiggle.
