The Long Awaited Night 1

After all these years, it had come down to this. While we both knew there was a bet on the line, there were still too many feelings to ignore, and no way this was going to be just some fuck to win a bet.

You went to the kitchen to get me some water, and I looked around your living room. You came in and put on the radio, pulled me close to you, and started singing into my ear, the song you have sang over and over the twenty years we have known each other. You move your hands slowly down my sides, deliberately lingering at the cleft of my waist, the patch of skin left bare between where my shirt stopped and my low-slung pants began. Your left hand moves beneath my shirt, caressing my lower back as your right hand moves up to the back of my neck. Taking a handful of my hair in my hands, you gently tug. I reflexively move backward, looking at you; your questioning eyes. Do I really want to do this?

I look at you, in your brownish gold eyes, and see my whole life inside them.

I see you taking my around-the-world crown away from me, beating me in a flashcard game in the first grade at stupid 6+9. I see you looking at me with pity in your eyes when I broke my chin open on the playground in fourth grade, blood oozing from my hands raised to my chin while everyone else went on playing. I see us falling on our asses iceskating in sixth grade. I see our bouts with alcohol, social stigmas, censorship, money, families. I see myself lying in your arms after I wrecked my car trying to drive to your house when I was sixteen. I see you pulling me into your high school dark room for a quick kiss. I see you leading me through the crowds at our college festival.

I see all these things, and the bet is forgotten.

"Lukas," I tell you, "make love to me." Your hand clasps the back of my neck and pulls me to you. Your kiss is fire engulfing my whole life. I get goose bumps as your hands once more move slowly down my sides, your thumbs catching beneath the hems of my shirt, sliding it slowly up and over my head. Every inch of skin I own is awake and sensitive to this wave of cool air upon it. You are not one to rush anything. (after all, we have waiting twenty years for this, no?) You run your hands down my goose-flesh covered arms, then up, across the tops of my still-contained breasts, across my neck and under my hair, chills still filling every nerve in my body.

Kissing me and caressing my back, you deftly unhook my bra, causing me to feel a rush of air come up from beneath the underwire cups. I drop my hands to my sides, allowing the material to fall to the floor with one small nudge at my shoulders.

You pull me back and look at me. My face, my bare top, my snug, faded jeans. I can feel the warm rush to the intersection of my legs as your gaze turns me on.

"Come," you tell me and take my hands in yours.

The simple command sent shivers through my spine and almost proved to have a double-meaning, as I followed you to the bedroom.

We stop in front of the bed, and you position us so I am standing between you and the bed. You kiss me deeply, and place your hands on my shoulders, not so much to push as to guide, and my body instinctively reclined on the king sized bed you take such pride in. You take my hands and raise them above my head, and then trace your fingertips down the insides of my arms, as if applying imaginary glue to them, making them stay where you have placed them. I lay there, looking at you, arms stretched above me, completely surrendering myself to what fate had dictated for so long, that I would be yours. I breathe in sharply as your fingers trace down my shoulders, my neck, and across the flesh of my breasts. Though you had no contact with them, my nipples were rock hard from your nearby touch.

You lower your mouth to my neck, placing soft, warm, kisses beneath my ears, across the front of my throat, and down across the valley beneath my breasts. Your moves are seamless, this wet warmth that seems to glide across the front of my body. You deliberately pass by my nipples, pressing your mouth instead against my flat belly and my navel.

My chest involuntarily heaves upward toward you, demanding you notice which parts you've missed. You unbutton my jeans, and I gasp, just barely audible. Your deft hands move them just past my hips while your mouth eagerly searches out where the fabric had been. All along my panty line you kiss, and I squirm, which I can tell you find endearing.

Stopping to look at me, we lock eyes intensely. I can still see everything that points to, "this is right."

You remove my jeans and panties, and look at me, curled toes to curled fingers above my head. I'm breathing raggedly; I

need

you. You trace your fingers along the inside of my right thigh, instinctively it separates itself from the left.

You lower yourself to me, and I can feel you breathing on my sex. I know you can see my body's readiness glistening before you, and smell the heat you've created. I raise my head up to shoulder's height to look at you. Why are you teasing me?

Your hands reach up above you and each grab a nipple, and pull. I groan and writhe, bucking my thighs toward you.

And with that, you act. Your tongue takes aim and flicks my engorged clit, causing me to cry out. My hands reach out and grab the pillow above my head, needing to hold on to something. Meanwhile, you have taking to quickly moving your tongue across this most sensitive part of my body, an I can't help but to moan. Your hands rub my nipples again and I can feel the warmth start to gather between my legs.

Though its our first time together, you know me better than I know myself. As the warmth starts to head southward in my body, you grab my clit in your mouth and suck – hard. I scream as the warmth explodes and the electricity fills my body. You release the pressure but don't move, and just as I'm coming down and think its over, you slowly, gently, start lapping against me again. So soft I can barely feel it, but my body is well aware of what is happening. In a matter of seconds, I'm cumming for you again, fluids running out of me uncontrollably.

Three, four times we go through this routine, until I'm seeing spots and I can't feel my limbs. "Stop, baby, please stop..." I beg as another orgasm rips through me. You look up at me, pale, sweaty, spent, and realize what you have done. "I can't....feel my fingers,"

I say, like a teenager smoking dope for the first time.

You gently roll me over on to my stomach, and push my wet hair away from my neck, and kiss me. Using a feather-light touch, you caress my back up and down, until my body stops shaking with aftershocks.

I turn around and look up at you...when did you take your shirt off? Looking so amazing and eyes full of so much...lust, ardor,

cariño

, I reach my hands up to your face and manage to lift my head to kiss you. A kiss of gratitude, amazement, love to the core.

I slide my hands down the front of your body to the button of your jeans. I want to please you, but you stop me. "Please," I tell you, "I need YOU."

In a seek-and-you-shall-find manner, you stand up and drop your jeans, revealing the fabled enormous member long-spoke about in our circle of friends. I take your hands and you move above me; I can feel you hanging between my legs. I part my legs for you, and as always, you are patient, killing me with desire. Our hands clasped together, I lock eyes with you as you slowly push inside me. I gasp and bite my lip, not with pain but surprise at the filled feeling I have. We slowly get acclimated to each other, never once parting our gaze. You rock yourself into me, hitting the deepest parts of my insides. I lie beneath you enjoying every moment, the togetherness the rightness of the whole evening, when a strange warmth creeps up on me from the inside. I start gently bucking back against you, muscles tightening throughout my body. "I'm going to cum again," I tell you, as though you don't know. Patient to the very end, you don't change pace at all (why mess with what's working) and slowly and steadily work me up to another amazing orgasm. I'm still looking at you, wide-eyed and wanton, and as my body grips you, you push back a little harder and deeper, and I can feel the warmth of you spilling into my insides.

You lean forward and kiss my forehead, my cheek, my lips, and fall beside me, holding me tight against you.

"So, who do you think won the bet?" you ask.

"Hmmm...I think we did," I said, and fall asleep, head resting on your chest.