One Night to Love

All three of us sat in the tower, writing sexual terms on a blackboard, just for fun. My best friend (who was coincidentally my neighbor as well) was as innocent as any girl could get. Never even French-kissed anyone. Her brother (who isn't the most attractive man in the world) and I were talking to her about sex. Preferences, rules, etc. Sexual history. I mentioned my recent frustrations. He mentioned his recent ex-girlfriend. Well, in all reality, we were talking AT her. She was staring at us dumbfounded. The conversation became more between her brother and me. We shared many of the same interests: whipped cream, not much for toys (although a vibrator here and there is amazing), favorite places to bite (earlobes), and other sensitive areas (crook of the elbow, wrist, behind the ear, any place blood pulses.)

After heading back to the room, we watched some Ellen DeGeneres standup comedy. Nobody could fall asleep. We were all lying on and over one another, sprawled out on one twin-sized mattress.

I am not attracted to him He's not even my type. He's a little pudgy, no stubble, a mat of hair, a chubby boyish face. At least he could hold stimulating conversation. He wasn't attracted to me either. All three of us, my friend, her brother, and me lay there together curled up on her bed. His hand reached around both my friend and me to find my side, which he caressed with feather-light touches until my legs tensed and I pushed my head into the pillow, wanting to scream with need. I worried my friend would notice. Around 2am, she left to sleep in her own bed. It was just him and me now. I didn't want to leave the bed, I was too comfortable. His hand was wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him while making me feel warm and protected. It was cold, so we decided to pull the covers over us. His hand absent-mindedly traced circles on my arm and stomach, and heat began to pool low in my belly. It had been so long.

We were lined up perfectly, knee to knee, hip to hip, chest to back. Out of need, I pressed my rear into him and gyrated slowly. Neither of us looked at each other. We moved together. We didn't kiss. My hand slowly pulled my shirt to my neck, and his followed, tracing along the line of my bra, his ever so slight touch almost tickling me. Slowly, his fingers found their way to the cup and where my breast met the fabric. He teased the skin there. His fingers barely skimmed my nipples, which by now were swollen and hard, and the light touch sent me into a whirlwind. It was the light touches more than the hard caresses that made me shake. His hand moved over me like I was something fragile, something that could break with just a breath. It had been so long since I felt cherished like that.

I couldn't take the teasing anymore. It had been almost a whole year. I pulled my bra up to where my shirt sat around my neck. His fingers pinched my nipples and I had to bite my lip to keep from mewling and waking my friend. He brought his lips to my breasts, suckling on the tender berries that were my nipples. As he pinched one, he teased the other with his tongue, and then he switched sides.

His hand traveled to where my jeans met my skin, drawing lightly on my stomach on his way down. As he rubbed me through the denim, his teeth met my ear, his breath tickling my neck, his tongue teasing my earlobe. My body itched to be touched, to be taken, to be conquered, to be loved. I couldn't take much more. I needed to be touched. I unbuttoned my jeans. His hand slid between the layers of fabric, between my soaked panties and my jeans while his teeth and tongue found places on my neck and chest to scrape and nibble and taste, as though I was something delicious worth savoring.

Finally, his hand unzipped my jeans and his fingers found my mound, stroking me before separating the layers to reveal my clitoris, throbbing with need. He touched it gently and I nearly convulsed with pleasure. One year of pleasing yourself only leaves you unsatisfied. As he continued to bite my ear, one of his fingers dipped into me, only to find me already wet with want. He didn't delve far. Only the tip of his finger went in, teasing me, until he came out and started to rub my clit gently.

His finger came back to me and dipped in farther, flicking the walls a few times before leaving again. I was nearly biting my lip until it bled in an effort to stay silent. My friend lay silent and asleep across the room.

Then he dipped the whole digit into me, and I nearly cried out. He stroked me and curled his finger, hitting spots inside me that haven't felt pleasure in so long. All of the sudden, there were two fingers in me, then three. His thumb was gently rubbing my button while his three fingers were causing my muscles to convulse and spasm.

His fingers left me. They ended up gently pinching my clitoris. A pleasure so great is was almost painful washed through me, and my body arched while my throat buzzed with the scream I held inside. The room was dead silent. In an effort to bring me to completion, I placed the heel of my hand on his erection and pressed down. Hard. As my hand stimulated him, his fingers began to violently rub and pinch my clitoris. I felt as though I was dying, being ripped apart from my centre as waves of pleasure washed over me. I came.

As the orgasm rippled through me, and after it passed, his fingers slowed to a steady and gentle stroke. His fingers dipped into me again as I rubbed and scratched his manhood. Soon, his fingers were on my clit again, sending me into another bout of fury, my head thrown back, my eyes squeezed shut, his teeth toying with my earlobe, my ass and hips pressed onto his thighs, my legs thrown across the bed and his body. He was at the perfect angle to torment me, which he proceeded to do. I did my best to pleasure him as well, but his hold on me kept me from turning towards him to give him the proper treatment. He was making me the center of this meeting, and I wasn't sure if I was blessed or cursed by it.

After the fourth orgasm, I knew I had to stop. The sun was beginning to peek through the drawn shades. His hand reached for me again, his fingers dipping dangerously close to my grail. I pulled his hand away and sat up, the sweat I had never noticed dripping down my forehead and my chest to pool in my navel. I righted my clothing and murmured, "I have so much stuff to do today..." and left the room. I was boiling and soaked. My next stop was a cold shower and my empty bed across the hall.