. 01-04

Author's note:

The story is completed and I plan to post (roughly) weekly in 15 parts of 2-4 chapters each based on how the story breaks naturally.

This is a romance through and through, meant to appeal to your heart, not as much to other parts (; Sex plays a large role thematically, but occurs sporadically. Readers who want to get lost in a vivid, modern character study of imperfect, emotional people trying their best will enjoy, but I do suggest trying not to skim or skip. I know that's how I sometimes read stories, even ones I like! But here, the payoff is in the details. If you connect with the characters, then you'll enjoy the ride (:

Thank you to

LaRascasse

for helping to edit the first four chapters and for selflessly being an active part of the volunteer editor program. And for all his invaluable insight, thank you to

thatsbogus

, whose kindness and generosity to a new-ish author with little track record is outdone only by his skill in spinning sexy yarns starring stellar characters.

***

Chapter 1

"You gotta open yourself up to the universe of pussy, my man," Paul had told him a week ago. "And brother, the universe of pussy will open herself up to

you

!"

It had seemed so abstract at the time that Andrew just went along with it. Paul had that effect on people.

Now that the universe of pussy was about to arrive at his front door, Andrew took a deep breath, trying to psych himself up. It'd been years since he'd been with a woman, and he wasn't afraid to admit to himself he was nervous. Especially because the woman on her way over was...not exactly his type.

The only reason he was on Tinder in the first place was because Paul had made him, told him it was time to just get back out there. It's not that Andrew disagreed...just...it wasn't easy.

Glancing at his reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall next to the bed, Andrew tried to imagine he was the woman on her way over for a quickie.

His whole life he'd had a bit of a babyface, which was annoying at the start, but now in his mid-30s, it suddenly wasn't such a bad thing. His deep brown eyes matched his cropped hair, which was

just

long enough to look a little messy. He'd been getting ready for bed when she messaged him, so he was only dressed in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Andrew knew he wasn't

unattractive

, even though at 36, he wasn't the guy he'd been at say, 26. He had never been the type to be

physically

attractive, anyway. He wasn't a big guy -- pretty average height, pretty average build. He'd never had a six pack or even lifted weights.

Still, he wasn't in bad shape and kept active. He had a little more squishiness on him since he turned 30, but he'd long since passed the age where he was insecure about that sort of thing. Whatever success he'd had with women was because of what he was working with from the neck up, not what was below.

A one-night stand with a stranger though...

that

was something that had always been outside of his comfort zone, no matter what age he was.

But that's the whole point of this. Something meaningless and quick with somebody I'll never meet again.

Then he wouldn't have to worry about how it went, exactly -- just that it finally

went

. That's how Paul had explained it, anyway. And he'd imposed only one rule: no swiping left.

Well, Andrew hadn't

strictly

followed that rule -- there were some profiles that he figured even Paul would be okay with him skipping -- but he'd

mostly

swiped right. It didn't mean he got a ton of bites, though.

That's how he ended up sitting on the edge of his bed, regretting opening himself up to the universe, anxiously awaiting one of the few women who did actually message him: Selena.

If he hadn't been already, her photos were enough to make him nervous. She was a tatted-up 23-year-old who'd exchanged a few messages with him over the past week -- just small talk about what they were looking for. But her messages were always terse and came after midnight, when Andrew was usually asleep, so he hadn't really seen her as a likely prospect to break his drought.

Tonight, though, she'd been blunt, and he'd been awake:

lets meet. address?

He smiled at the mirror, trying to show himself a confidence he didn't feel. He wasn't sure what he was more nervous about: if she was lying and was just coming to rob him, or if she wasn't and actually wanted to fuck.

His phone buzzed.

here

Andrew took a deep breath, forcing himself to get up and make his way to his front door. He lived in a modest two-bedroom duplex, plenty of room for a bachelor like him and about as nice as he could comfortably afford on his teacher's salary.

He took his time, and his whole body slowed the closer he got to the door.

Why am I even doing this??

But...it was too late now. All he could do was try to be positive.

Come on, open yourself to the universe of pussy!

He plastered the best faux smile he could muster on his face and summoned all the courage he had, swinging open the door.

Looking back at him was, he presumed, Selena.

She looked pretty much like her photos -- a kid in her early 20s, fresh-faced but with a look in her pale, steel-blue eyes like she'd seen more shit than most people her age. Certainly more than he ever had. Or maybe it was just a carefully curated façade.

Then again, what 23-year-old isn't?

She was 5-6 inches shorter than him, with a slight build and pale complexion that told him she probably didn't see the sun a whole lot.

Her piercings and tattoos jumped out to him in person, just as they had in her profile pics. Both eyebrows were pierced with multiple silver rings, and a nostril had a single silver, square stud in it. Silver studs and rings lined the outside of her ears, too, from top to bottom, and various bracelets and bands rattled on her thin wrists.

The general punkish vibe was completed by closely shaved, jet-black hair on the sides that jutted up into a tight, dark green undercut fauxhawk. He couldn't help but wonder how long the whole ensemble took to get on and off.

From her profile pictures, Andrew knew she had a lot of tattoos up and down her arms at least, but they were covered now by a dark gray, oversized zip-up hoodie that looked like it might've been as old as she was.

The only ink showing, though, was unmissable even lit only by the dim porch light and the sliver of the moon poking through the clouds: a snarling wolf's mouth, the bottom set of fangs sticking up from beneath her thin, gray V-neck and the top set on the underside of her chin.

Hanging from one hand was a faded, beat-up canvas backpack, and in the other, a cigarette that she pulled from her lips and dropped to the stoop outside his door, crushing it with one of her worn Converse.

What the hell am I getting into

, Andrew thought to himself.

Open yourself to the universe, open yourself to the universe....

She was clearly sizing him up, too, and her body language said she was unimpressed.

"Umm, hey, I'm--" he started to stammer.

The stranger pushed past him and into his living room, her head swiveling from left to right, taking everything in. She had a hand inside her backpack, and Andrew suddenly thought maybe she

was

here to rob him.

When he didn't move, she turned back to him.

"Anybody else here?" she said. Her voice was clipped and flat, and not as naturally low as she was trying to make it sound, he was sure.

He didn't know exactly how to answer that.... No, no one

was

here, but if she were going to rob him, isn't that the first thing she'd ask...?

Her eyes flicked around his living room and the open kitchen next to it, as if she expected someone else to pop out. A silly sense of relief washed over him.

Oh! She's not gonna rob me, she's worried I'm gonna murder her!

He shook his head, trying not to look...well, as if this were his first time hooking up on Tinder.

She didn't seem to relax much, but at least seemed a little less tense. He got the sense she probably didn't do a whole lot of relaxing. Instead of her flinty eyes darting around his place, now she stood next to the couch, clearly giving him a closer inspection than she had at the door.

Andrew didn't know what to say.

"Umm--"

She interrupted him. "Couch or bedroom?"

This was not going the way he'd hoped. She was...kind of unpleasant, and her posture said she was just as impatient.

Is this what one-night stands are?

Maybe he wasn't ready for this after all.

"Uh, bedroom," he said, a little more resignation leaking into his voice than he'd intended. He tried to smile and walked past her to lead her down the short hallway.

His bedroom was neat enough and plain -- a reflection of himself. Selena walked in behind him and dropped her backpack next to the bed, taking off her hoodie.

Her loose T-shirt left her midriff exposed, showing parts of tattoos he couldn't make out covering up what was otherwise more pale skin. A pair of wolves in miniature charged down each arm -- as if emerging from a hazy cloud into sharp relief below her elbows -- but that was all he could distinguish clearly.

Without the baggy hoodie, he could tell now she

probably

weighed over 100 pounds -- though it couldn't be by much. But her small frame was tensed, giving off the effect of a tightly wound coil rather than some wispy waif.

As she shimmied out of her tight, ripped, black jeans -- kicking them off along with her shoes -- she noticed he was just standing there, gaping. He couldn't help it. Her legs seemed disproportionately long, and her skin looked smooth and soft in a way skin never did after 30.

Andrew realized he hadn't seen a woman naked since...well he didn't want to think about the last time it'd happened, but it was a long time ago. Everything had all been theoretical until this moment.

But now...now there was this woman in his room -- this

girl

really, because he must seem ancient to someone like her. Certainly she suddenly seemed young to him.

His cock was more excited about this new reality than it'd been about anything in years, though, and it was eager to get the show on the road. Every other part of him was anxious, and suddenly more and more sure this was a mistake.

I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to have sex with this woman I don't know, who's expecting a good time with some guy who knows what he's doing. She's 23 -- this is probably like, Plan C for her on a Saturday night.

She didn't say anything about his stare as she sat on the edge of the bed, her gray cotton panties sliding up to expose another wolf's head on her left leg, this one entangled by twisting vines and shooting down her inner thigh as if it were about to take a bite out of her knee. Her right sported the only color of any of her tattoos: the faded red of a dragon corkscrewing around her calf that looked out of place compared to the others.

Selena snapped her fingers and he jerked to attention.

"The fuck. Are you a virgin or something? Or are you gonna fucking

eat

me?" He couldn't tell how serious she was taking either of those possibilities, but she looked ready to throw something at him if he didn't do

something

soon. "Take your fucking pants off, Jesus, do I have to draw you a goddamn diagram?"

He nodded, deciding that the quickest way to get this over with was just to do what she said. He dropped his sweatpants and his boxers and stepped out of them, his cock showing just the beginnings of stiffening.

"Wait," she barked.

Andrew froze.

"Lights first. Off." She pointed at the light switch.

Her commanding tone fed a familiar pit in his stomach that he tried to ignore. Instead, he just shrugged and flicked the lights.

The light spilling in through the open door kept the room from becoming totally dark. As his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he saw that she'd pulled off her panties, leaving her only in her V-neck and some no-show white socks that, even in the faint light, he could see had a hole or two in them.

She started to play with herself as he approached her, not sure exactly what he was supposed to do next. She didn't give him any indication, mostly looking down at what she was doing while her fingers rubbed over her bare, shaved mound and above her clit.

That's when he decided he knew exactly what to do.

Andrew didn't have a particularly big dick, he didn't have a particularly attractive body. But he knew what he

was

good at. Even if it had been years. And maybe even more importantly, it meant he could keep things at

his

pace instead of risking things spiraling out of control.

Stepping toward her, he knelt down and gently pushed on her knees.

"Sit back," he said, trying to give her as kind a smile as he could.

Her eyes cut through the darkness, almost a glowing gray instead of the icy blue they probably were in normal light. Either way, he could tell they were glaring at him.

"Just...trust me, Selena, okay?" he said. "It'll get things going faster."

Her brows knitted together and she seemed to weigh it in her mind for a couple seconds, then rolled her eyes and leaned back, propping herself up on her hands to give him access while still able to keep a wary watch on him.

"Yeah, you looked like one of those," she muttered, but loud enough he was clearly intended to hear.

He disregarded whatever that was supposed to mean and focused on what was in front of him -- the smooth, soft thighs of a 23-year-old woman.

Andrew let his hands glide up and he parted them further, moving closer to her while she leaned back a little more to give him a better angle.

Slowly, his lips grazed her skin midway up, kissing over the tattooed fur of the wolf there and proceeding at a deliberate pace -- mostly because he needed a moment to process what he was doing.

She was as soft as she looked, and he surprised himself by having to stifle a moan when his lips made contact. As he pressed his mouth to her, moving up her slender thigh, his heart started beating faster and faster -- and he realized how much he'd missed this feeling, missed how it made

him

feel. Useful. Confident.

Connected

.

The nearly straight line of her pelvis marked the gap between her thighs -- where some women had curves, Selena seemed to be all angles -- and he alternated to the opposite side of it, giving the same attention to her other thigh.

His hands slid up to her narrow hips, the heat radiating against his cheek from what was waiting between her legs, and Andrew could feel himself getting aroused by the smell of her. She didn't smell magical or sweet or like some fantasy. The scent carried just a hint of sour, of sweat -- of a woman who'd had a long, hard day and hadn't showered yet. It was...

intoxicating

.

He inhaled deeply and licked the softest part of her inner thigh, sucking in just enough for his teeth to lightly skim her skin.

"I thought this was gonna speed things up, Jesus Christ," she said, clearly not interested in foreplay.

Andrew didn't care. There was a rhythm to doing this right.

He kept going, his head pressed between her long legs hanging off the edge of the bed, and used his hands to gently tilt her up. She'd shaved, but not today, little pinpricks of stubble poking up along her mound that matched the day's worth of stubble on his face. He kissed above her clit, then replaced his lips with his fingers as his mouth moved lower.

His fingers continued to rub in tight circles when his mouth finally found what they'd been yearning for since she'd tugged off her jeans. He couldn't keep the moan inside this time as his lips pressed against the softness of her pussy. He moaned again when he tasted how rapidly her body reacted to him -- her warm juices sweet on his tongue as he instinctively parted her folds.

"That's better," she sighed, and he could feel the tension in her legs start to dissipate, if just a little.

She was relaxing, and after a couple of minutes, she dropped her elbows and lay back on the bed.

Taking that as tacit approval, Andrew pulled her a little closer now that she was more horizontal. His tongue dove deeper inside her as he did, eliciting a correspondingly deep sigh from the young woman on his bed.

Gently, he hooked his thumb down to lightly rub above the knob of her clit. Her hands grabbed at the mattress in response. They balled into fists, scrunching the sheets into a death grip as his tongue continued to tease her.

She was wet in earnest now, enough that his lips dripped when he pulled back for a moment to take a breath. He chanced a look up at her and saw her eyes were closed, lying back completely on the bed. The pale skin beneath the tattoos on her thighs was flushed a light crimson.

Every sense inside him was primed and excited.

He slipped a finger inside, prompting a sharp inhale that he took as a very good sign. He inserted a second, then moved his lips back between her thighs, making direct contact for the first time with her now swollen clitoris.

The moan she let out came from down deep as she arched her back off the bed -- like the feeling he'd been teasing for so long finally arrived and still overwhelmed her. Andrew didn't stop, sliding his fingers in and out while he lightly licked her clit with quicker, shorter strokes.

As he closed his lips around it, sucking and playing with her, Selena's thighs reflexively closed around his head and she gasped -- panting sharply while a high-pitched whine squeezed out of her tensed lips. One of her feet kicked the floor next to him and her hands snapped to his head -- one tugging his hair to jam his face against her pussy, and the other pawing at him in the other direction.

For a moment, he was afraid she wanted him to stop, and he froze. But the piercing whimpers turned into a long, hissed "

yessss

." The hand that had been pushing him away moved up to her chest and grabbed one of her small, perky breasts over her shirt, squeezing in rhythm with the teasing his tongue had resumed.

He could feel the tension building in her compact body and knew she was getting close. That only urged him on further, heating his cheeks with a ravenous excitement he hadn't felt in years, exhorting him to pick up the pace.

The initial sensation had clearly caught her off guard, but she was ready now, and tried to stay more still, even as she squirmed beneath his lips and his fingers. His hand replaced hers on the shirt above her breast, allowing her to clutch at his head instead, digging into his hair while she pulled his face into her.

He could feel her calves tighten, her feet hooking in, her toes curling. Every part of her body was drawn tight to keep the dam from overflowing inside her.

It made him as turned on as she was. But his stiff cock was an afterthought -- he was exhilarated by her taste, her smell, her soft skin, by the noises she made egging him on with every shallow pant, every involuntary moan.

He let out one of his own, caught up in the moment, giving her clit a tweak with his tongue and then lapping up the stream flowing from her drenched pussy. The moan vibrated into her body and seemed to travel up her pointed hips, along her squirming torso, past the wolf's maw on her neck -- and was released again out of her own lips.

Andrew couldn't tell if the humming, buzzing in his ears was his moaning, hers, or maybe neither of them. Letting go of all sense of pacing, he unleashed his tongue and his fingers on her, rubbing furiously over her clit. She wasn't using any words, just moans that were cut off by what air she could gasp inside her chest. The noises she made were shorter and their pitch higher and higher, matching his own rhythm of intimate torture against her most sensitive part.