Author's note: This chapter can be read as a stand-alone or part of a series. It's told from the point of view of Nate as he thinks over the events of last night when his girlfriend, Cora, told him she was into orgasm denial. There is some musing and talking at the top of the chapter; if you want to skip straight to the sex, go to the second half of the chapter, or to chapters 3 and 4 in the series.
***
The morning after my girlfriend revealed to me, after much coaxing on my part, her secret desires, I woke up before her and sat alone on the balcony, remembering our conversation. Cora had told me some strange things, and I had a feeling that I didn't quite understand them yet, but it was plain to see that they were very important to her, and so I tried.
Sipping my morning coffee, I went over everything I had learned the night before. Cora had told me that she wanted me to talk dirty to her more. From this I had guessed correctly that she liked to be made to beg during sex, and she had clearly enjoyed being pushed to say things she was uncomfortable saying. That much I could understand. It had been easy to find the right words when I didn't have time to second-guess my intuition, and watching her squirm in reaction had been pretty fun.
Then she'd told me that she somehow got off on being embarrassed about her sexuality. This gave me something to chew on. I'd gone to Catholic school, and being made to feel bad for my sex drive was something I resented deeply. I had struggled for years to overthrow the restrictive view of sex I'd been raised with, and was happy to be finally -- for the most part -- free of it. Why Cora would want to bring that back into our relationship was beyond me, and in fact made me uncomfortable. It seemed to call into question the sex positive attitude I had always loved about her.
On the other hand, last night hadn't exactly felt
negative
in any way -- quite the opposite. On second thought, perhaps this was just like enjoying BDSM: After all, just because I liked to tie her up and use her sometimes didn't mean I supported sexism, or any form of violence. It was just play. Apparently Cora had found a way to have fun with the restrictive rules I'd been forced to live with as a kid, and when I thought about it like that, the idea sort of pleased me. What better way to defy nun Alberta and her ilk than to get off on their warnings about getting off? I briefly imagined a young Cora in Catholic school, getting wet every time she was lectured on chastity, and grinned. Yeah, I could get on board with that.
Which left the other thing, the one she'd admitted last and yet seemed to care about the most. It was also the part I found the most perplexing.
When her body had clearly been ready, Cora had asked me -- no, begged me -- not to let her come. I could have understood if this was just about making the sex last longer; surely that was something most people did. But she hadn't wanted to come at all, preferring to go to sleep unsatisfied. Apparently she enjoyed the frustration -- and that just blew my mind. I'd had my share of dry spells as an adult, not to mention the multiple times I'd tried to quit masturbating as a teenager because I was ashamed of the habit, and the agonizing four months when I'd been dating Veronica Rye in high school and we'd fooled around passionately but never gone beyond second base because obviously that had to wait until marriage. Blue balls aplenty had ensued, and never had that been the slightest bit enjoyable.
Maybe female biology was different, though. Contemplating this, I went to the kitchen and logged onto my laptop.
When Cora stepped into the kitchen an hour and a half later, her hair still a tangled mess, I was several websites more educated, and more confused than before. I closed my laptop when she came in, somehow not wanting her to see what I'd been reading, and rose to kiss her good morning.
Maybe I was imagining things, but I could have sworn that she felt different than usual. The way she kissed me back, the way she pressed her body against mine, the look she gave me.
But she didn't make any overt reference to last night, and neither did I. I pretended to read the newspaper while she made herself breakfast, sneaking glances at her when she wasn't looking. It was like I was seeing her with new eyes that morning, that made her look somehow more beautiful, more precious, and more mysterious. This little woman in my kitchen continued to surprise me, and I felt immense affection for her, and wonder that she happened to be my girlfriend.
I made up my mind then, while she was eating her cereal, that I would do whatever I could to fulfil her wish. It was, really, an honor that she had told me. In fact, I suspected that she had been trying to do so for months, but hadn't found the courage despite how much she clearly wanted it, and that thought made me somehow even more committed to making her happy. So what if it seemed a little strange.
Having seen how insecure she was about this new kink, I knew that Cora would never make the first move in this situation, rather waiting for me to show interest. So, I put away my paper and stepped behind her, putting my arms around her where she sat. I ran my fingers lovingly through her messy hair, down the nape of her neck, and under the neckline of her t-shirt. She purred and leaned into my touch. Underneath the fabric, my hands wandered over her bare shoulders and came forward to caress her braless breasts.
Her nipples, always a good indicator of how frisky she was feeling, hardened under the first passing touch.
"So", I said softly. "Still horny?"
Cora tipped her head back a bit to rest against my sternum. "Yeah."
Encouraged, I trailed my hands further over her body -- over her arms, her shoulders, her face, her breasts, her stomach, her breasts again. She arched her back just a little, pushing the deliciously soft mounds into my hands. Her legs, usually crossed when she sat at a table, now rested side by side and a little apart, allowing me to eventually reach down and rub between them over her clothes. This drew a sigh from Cora, who spread her legs a little wider. Exploiting this new access, I drew my fingernails up her inner thighs, ending again in a slow, firm rub over her crotch. I knew without checking that if I were to push my hand into her pants, I would find her pussy wet and wanting. Inside my own pants, my dick perked up in interest.
"I'd like to take you right back to bed and fuck you," I told her truthfully. "But I'm afraid we'd be late."
She looked up in evident confusion, and only after a few seconds her memory returned. "Oh crap! I'd forgotten all about that!" There was such a clear ring of disappointment in her voice that I grinned at her, although I could also think of plenty of things I'd rather do right now than attend our friend's birthday party. To be honest, I had also forgotten that over my internet research.
