Love in the Age of Chemicals

Chapter 6

On Saturday morning, I went to the furniture store to buy a bigger bed. As I examined my options, I wondered if I should have brought Miranda along, so she could choose one to her liking. The various styles and designs made little difference to me. But I took comfort in knowing there was a clear and simple return policy. If Miranda was too put off by my new bed, she could help me choose another.

Remembering our last sexual encounter, I strongly preferred a bed that was as high off the floor as my current one. As I walked around the showroom floor, inspecting each choice, it was difficult not to stand beside each one and note where Miranda's body would be relative to my crotch. I imagined I was probably not the first person to do so in a furniture store.

Once I had made my selection, I arranged for delivery the next day. On my way home, I also purchased suitably-sized sheets, blankets, and pillows. It was the first purchase of home furnishings I had made since the month I moved in five years earlier. Knowing Miranda and her tendency to raise "one more thing," I expected that the new bed would open the door to other changes in my room, for the sake of consistency. It helped to be mentally prepared for those changes before she suggested them. Miranda had shown me that, even if it was undesirable and uncomfortable at first, I

was

able to adapt to changes in my environment.

And

that, in time, I might sometimes grow to

prefer

the changes.

When I got home, I stopped myself from bringing the bags inside. I wondered if I could surprise Miranda. The idea of having a new bed installed and ready without her noticing seemed like something she would be happy about. And then I would suggest we use the bed that evening. That would also make her happy.

*******

That afternoon, I was on the couch, reading. Miranda came over and sat at the opposite end of the couch, holding a textbook. She stretched out her legs and put her bare feet in my lap.

"Does this bother you?" she asked, her eyes fixed on her book.

"A little," I replied.

"But not

too

much?" she clarified.

"Not yet," I answered.

"OK. Just let me know if you want me to move."

I paused my reading to look at her book. It was a selection of primary sources from American history. I wondered why she chose to read that particular book.

"Why are you reading

that

, Miranda?" she whispered, having glanced sideways at me and noticed my stare.

I cleared my throat and asked, "Dear, why are you reading that particular book?"

She immediately put the book on her lap and smiled at me. "The syllabus for this class is online, so even though classes don't start until next week, I know that I'll need to read this whole book over the course of the semester. And I have to answer the same three questions for every document in here and turn in the whole assignment during finals week.

But,

I also noticed that the readings don't line up with the lectures at all. So I

think

I can knock out more than half the book this weekend, plus the questions." She looked at me with a confident expression and awaited a reaction.

"You are very industrious," I said. "It's one of your most attractive features."

"And you are not only handsome, you are also a sweet talker," she replied, picking her book up again.

We passed that afternoon reading on the couch together, interrupted only by a brief phone call from Dean Preston informing me that Katerina had confessed to her deception (once confronted with the evidence) and that I was all clear to return.

Miranda persuaded me to rub her feet for part of that time – an exercise I enjoyed, but not nearly as much as she seemed to. She offered to return the favor, but I was not ready for that yet. By the time the sky was darkening and passing cars were turning on their headlights, I was finishing my book, and Miranda was a good quarter of the way through hers. She had a notebook with scribbled notes sitting on the armrest.

My stomach grumbled loudly. Miranda looked up at me, looked down at her book, and said, "If we order pizza, we don't have to move. You could start another book. I'm in the zone. I don't want to stop."

"I'll get a book," I answered.

"I'll get my phone," she replied.

I wondered if it would be possible to pass every Saturday afternoon and evening in the same way. It would be an enjoyable habit, indeed.

*******

On Sunday morning, Miranda, as I had anticipated, went to church. The bed delivery was scheduled for before noon, so while I waited, I washed the new sheets and moved the old bed out of sight. The new bed arrived on schedule, and long before Miranda returned I had a king-sized bed set up and ready for use. I still hadn't decided how to unveil the surprise. If nothing else occurred to me, I would simply invite her to sleep with me on our last night before the new semester, and then let her be surprised by what she found.

But I would need to be sure that we retired a little earlier than normal that evening. I assumed she would be

pleasantly

surprised.

*******

Though I had been preoccupied with my surprise for the whole morning, by early afternoon, once everything was set up and the door was closed, my thoughts turned elsewhere. I was so distracted that by the time Miranda returned home in the mid-afternoon, I had even forgotten all about the new bed. I watched a movie while Miranda stayed in her room and read her textbook. We made simple conversation as she cooked a late dinner, and then I picked out a book to read. Miranda joined me on the couch, her feet again in my lap.

"I might even finish this book tonight," she mentioned. "How awesome would that be? One big assignment finished before the semester even begins!"

We read in silence for over an hour. Around nine o'clock, Miranda yawned and fanned the remaining pages. "Thirty more pages," she sighed. "But not tonight. I need to go to bed soon. We both have early classes tomorrow."

At the mention of going to sleep, my body stiffened. I had forgotten about the bed! The new bed, and the plan to surprise Miranda...

"Miranda,

Dear

..." I began, clearing my throat and emphasizing the word "Dear" in a way that made her laugh. "I was thinking, since the new semester is beginning and we will be seeing each other less often... and since we need to leave together in the morning anyway..."

She watched me, looking a little confused at where this was heading.

"I thought maybe you would prefer to spend the night in my bed... with me... tonight," I finally suggested.

A half-smile formed on her face. "Oh, you thought

I

might prefer that? Is that the only reason?"

"Well, no. I would enjoy your company as well," I stated truthfully.

"And that's all," she stated dubiously. "Just... share a bed for the night. Don't want to do anything before we sleep?"

"I mostly wanted to share the bed, but we can see how other things play out." I was having a hard time being patient and began to nibble my bottom lip nervously. I was almost ready to blurt out the secret. Miranda narrowed her eyes to tiny slits and stared at me. I think she knew I holding something back.

"OK, Dr. Kirsch. I'll play your little game," she said, still squinting at me. "I'll be there in a little bit – after I brush and get changed and everything."

"Wonderful," I said calmly. "I'll see you when you're ready." Then I went into my room to prepare for bed, shutting the door behind me.

About ten minutes later, I was finishing up brushing my teeth when I heard my door open, followed by Miranda squealing excitedly. I smiled at my reflection and turned around, knowing she would come find me. Sure enough, she bolted into the bathroom and grabbed me in an almost painful bear hug.

Letting me go, she stammered breathlessly, "How did you?.. When did?.. Were you going to?.. Is this?.."

I tried to figure out what she wanted to ask, but none of her questions ever landed. So I put my hand on her back and guided her to the new bed, explaining in broad terms how I had come to my decision and how I had managed to surprise her. She seemed very pleased with both explanations.

"You

know

we're not just going to sleep now, right?" she asked me.

"That was my intention, yes. I had meant to encourage us to retire early, but I somehow forgot until you mentioned going to bed."

"Well, I'm not sleepy anymore," she said, slipping off her shorts. "Come on... Join me." She slipped under the covers, then moaned and rolled all the way to the other side and back again. "I feel like I could

swim

in here!" she shouted. I laughed at her playfulness and got under the covers with her.

"You might not even notice I'm in bed with you," she said, stretching out and barely touching me. "There's so much

room

!"

"I could never not notice you in my bed, Miranda. But the extra room is nice."

Crawling up next to me, she lay on her belly, resting her elbows by my side and said, "I seem to recall that last week we reserved a specific position for the next time we had sex."

"I remember that, yes," I said. "There was a promise, I believe, along the lines of 'boobies in my face.'"

Holding back laughter, but still smiling, Miranda said, "Well I am certainly a woman of my word, and I can guarantee there will be boobies in your face tonight." Then her face got a little less playful. She twirled a lock of her hair with her fingers and looked down. "But first... could we start with... maybe something else?"

"What else?" I asked.

"It's just that we've kinda rushed into sex almost every time... and I'm not complaining. It's felt right every time and... and the sex has been great. More than great, sometimes," she mused. "I still get chills when I think about the shower last week." And as if to prove her point, her shoulders and arms shook once and she closed her eyes. "But... and it's OK if you really don't want to do this with me... but I'd like to kiss, and make-out, and take our time building up to the good stuff."

"So you're implying that kissing and making out isn't good?" I said in an attempt to tease her.

"OK, Mister Literal," she giggled. "I want to take our time building up to the

better

stuff." Then without waiting for me to agree... perhaps assuming I had no objections... she pulled herself up along my chest, lining up our faces. Her expression, which had been sparkly and smiley, turned more serious. Her lips parted and our noses nearly touched. Her eyebrows moved closer together and she seemed suddenly fragile. She pulled her head back just slightly, as if having second thoughts.

I decided that for once

I

would be the one who carried

her

past the hesitations. With only a little forward motion, our lips met. Our mouths stayed mostly closed, our bodies still. It lasted only a few seconds, then we pulled back and searched one another's eyes. Her breathing sped up and her eyebrows arched. Despite our history, it seemed like a first kiss might, with all the uncertainty and anxiousness and hope of that first contact.

Then Miranda fell on me slowly, her weight pushing me down into the pillow. We kissed without urgency. It felt like exploration. What would happen if I did

this

? How did she taste over

here

? How would she respond to

this

? It was a few minutes, even, before our hands entered the conversation. And yet they remained relatively chaste, avoiding the more sexual areas and instead caressing cheek and head, meeting to interlace fingers, curling around the jawline, noticing the beautiful strangeness of a neck.

My tongue would ache the next morning, but I wouldn't regret it. Lips saying so much but without forming words. I wanted my eyes open, to see her. But she was so close that it was easier to close my eyes. And when I did, I could feel her much better. And smell her comforting natural scent. And hear her breath and her soft, feminine moans.

"How long should we do this?" I asked, my words almost cut off by her tongue finding mine again.

Miranda sucked on my bottom lip a few seconds, then lifted her head up and away. "Until we feel like we'll go crazy if we don't get you inside me," she answered, cooperating as I lifted her loose night shirt up and off. She had been bare underneath, and as her treasures were revealed, I guided her to the side and onto her back. I noticed immediately how much easier it was to make such adjustments on the large bed. Rolling towards her, I kissed and sucked at her breasts with some restraint. I rubbed her back and sides with my hands, and Miranda undulated her torso to keep giving me freedom of motion to pursue my explorations.

Though I would have been content to keep my mouth on her chest, I felt her hands pulling me gently up. So my kisses went north, paying special attention to her collarbone, then to the broad space between her neck and breasts. There were a few scattered moles in that area, and I kissed straight lines from one to the other. As I did so, Miranda sighed appreciatively, then began tugging on my shirt until it was bunched up under my arms. I pushed myself up and raised my arms so she could finish the job.

We both moaned as I lowered myself again, pressing bare chest against bare chest.

"I like the way your chest hair feels on my nipples," Miranda whispered. She pushed her chest up and slowly rubbed it against me to emphasize her point.

"I like the way every part of you feels touching me," I replied, shivering.

Miranda pulled my head down, drawing me in for an even more intense kiss than what we had been sharing. Our hands covered more ground, focusing on breasts, abdomens, ribs, backs. Our hips responded as they were programmed to do, and we began simulating the mechanics of what would follow. It was a warm-up, a dress rehearsal.

Miranda's breathing got loud and excited. "I think that's enough," she whispered urgently, pushing at my waistband. I wiggled my hips to help her get my shorts down to my thighs, then my legs took them the rest of the way off, cramming them into some corner of our new playground. My erection bounced freely between us.

I allowed myself a teasing smile and answered, "No... not yet."

"What do you mean, 'Not yet?'" she whispered back, gripping my head as she peppered my face and neck with kisses.

"I don't know if you're quite at the point where you'll go crazy," I explained, pulling my head away and returning attention to her breasts.

"You're asking...

Oooo! That's sensitive...

You're asking for trouble," she warned me. But the bucking of her hips and the grip of her arms pulling me closer removed any venom from her threat.

I decided to spend a minute exploring below her chest, planting small kisses on her belly. It was soft, though not large, and the flesh yielded to the pressure of my face. I paused at her navel, but she gently directed my attentions around that spot. I ended my journey at her scar – the spot that held such fascination for me. I pondered its significance as I kissed along its length.

Not wanting to press my joke too far, I then pulled Miranda's panties off, putting my face the closest it had ever been to her entrance. The smell was strong – strange but not unpleasant. It seemed to have the effect of increasing my libido. I hurried back up her body, pausing to kiss between her breasts. When we were face to face again, Miranda affected a disinterested expression and said, "Yeah, you're right. I'm not sure I'm all that into it after all. Maybe we should just go to sleep."

She laughed as I grabbed her shoulders and rolled onto my back. She followed along and ended up straddling my waist, our intimate areas pressed lightly together.

"Suit yourself," I smiled. "I'll just lie back and sleep if you don't want to do anything."

Miranda narrowed her eyes and scowled, but as she did so, she slid her body down along mine, trapping my erection between us.

"I don't know," she said softly, wrapping her arms around my upper torso and laying her head on my shoulder. "I could get really comfortable like this. I wonder if I could even sleep in this position." It seemed she had started out joking but was now seriously wondering if it was possible. "Do you think I'd be too heavy for you?"

"Maybe after a while," I mused. "A long while. But I'd enjoy it the whole time." I slowly ran my hands up and down her smooth back, sometimes going low enough to run along the healthy curve of her backside.

Miranda lay still and seemed to be thinking about testing the theory, but then her hips moved back and forth a little. She repeated that action a few times, eventually adjusting until her folds were sliding along my length. With grunts and soft moans, she rubbed herself on me. I never felt the unmistakable moment of entry – the moment that unfailingly made my heart race – so I wasn't sure if this was the position we had discussed.

"Miranda... is this what we talked about?" I asked softly into her ear pressed on my cheek.

Miranda lifted her head and chest up and I realized she was intensely concentrating on the sensations caused by the friction between us.

"No," she gasped suddenly. "Not yet. Not enough boobies in your face." I smiled at that. Then she added, "This is dry humping. But with clothes off."

"It feels quite wet, though," I noted, confused about the misnomer.

"Yeah, so maybe... wet humping, I don't know. Anyway, this is really working for me right now, Puppy. Hold your hips up a little if you c-

Ohhhhhh God!

Yeah, like that... hold that as long as you can, Babe." I was poised in a shallow arc with only my shoulders and heels touching the mattress. Miranda's thrusts were firm and smooth. I knew I couldn't hold that position for very long with her pushing down so strongly, but I resolved to last as long as my strength allowed, for her sake. Surely she had done some personally uncomfortable things for the sake of my pleasure.

Not to say that I was receiving no pleasure from this. Her slick folds repeatedly ran the length of my shaft, and when she pressed down at a certain angle, her pubic bone pushed along the soft underside of my member, causing me to instinctively push up. I thought it might be possible for me to climax like this, provided I could first lower my hips back to the bed.

Miranda leaned down and tried to kiss me, but her motions made it difficult. Instead, I kissed whatever I could reach and I massaged the thighs that were resting just an arm's length away on either side of me. My own thighs began trembling after a few minutes and my back started to ache. I considered that I should warn Miranda that a change of position was imminent, but her movement became erratic. She started gasping in deep breaths and whining as she exhaled. Her hands shifted around, seeming to not know where to rest or grab as she approached climax. Her hips moved in longer, faster thrusts.

The combination of her more powerful motions and my own slight hip motion upward as I tried to enjoy the friction resulted in her very suddenly and forcefully impaling herself on me. I grunted loudly at the unexpected pleasure, and Miranda cried out in surprise. But the effect on her pursuit of orgasm was immediately positive. She buried her face in the pillow and clenched her whole body. She yelled as her hips wiggled spasmodically. The pillow muffled her cries of pleasure, which otherwise would have been right in my ear.

I put both hands on the small of her back and pulled her down, finally resting my whole body on the bed. Not knowing whether she would want deep penetration or not during her release, I merely held still and let her adjust us according to her own pursuit of pleasure. It seemed she mostly wanted to rub her body along mine, scissoring her legs. The resulting sensation along my member was very enjoyable, as I felt her twitching entrance slowly moving up and down my length. And when I was at my deepest point inside her, I could feel her walls shake around me.