The Other Atie

He had loved her for a while now. Or maybe from the moment he first heard her voice, so high and pure, like a siren. And soon after he had gotten to know her, they were in the same scene after all and both singers, both in their twenties. It felt like they each had a gravity that pulled them closer, and now they'd gotten so close they circled each other in diminishing circles like twin stars. They had even had joint performances, singing together was like a slow foreplay. He was getting really infatuated.

He hoped the feeling was mutual, and at times he was sure it was, when she looked at his eyes up close and sang about love he was so sure. When they got backstage he got more uncertain, he couldn't believe someone so perfect would be interested in him.

It was November, and after one party he offered to walk her to her hotel. It was unusual that she was leaving alone and as the hotel wasn't far she accepted his offer instead of trying to get a cab. He helped her coat on, his heart thumping as she smiled and their eyes met.

They walked the empty, dark streets slowly, it was windy and he lifted his collars up against the wind. They didn't talk much, but smiled every once in a while, and the walk was all too short for him.

They stopped in the front of her hotel, and she looked so cold he reached out and pulled her into his arms. He hadn't thought further, he had thought of warming her up, but she reached to kiss him.

Her lips were soft and she was gentle. She was about the same height as him so it was easy to kiss, and he responded to her, his arms around her. She sucked on his lower lip gently and he felt want flooding through him, and he thought, could this be?

She broke the kiss but looked at him closely, and with a small smile she asked if he wanted to come upstairs.

And he did.

They got into her room, took off their coats and shoes, spread them to dry. There was a radiator next to the bed and he sat on the bed, warming his hands on it. She sat beside him, doing the same, and he smiled at her, at her thigh pressed against his.

"New York winters," she said and rolled her eyes. "Why aren't we in California?"

He shrugged and smiled, happy she had said "we", tried to imagine her under the sun, maybe in a dress. Short dress.

She warmed up for a minute, then leaned backwards, he could feel her body moving. His throat was suddenly dry, he was uncertain of what to do, how to proceed. He was fairly certain she intended to make love with him, and he wasn't inexperienced, but this was so important. She was so important.

"Won't you sing me something, Billy?" she asked.

He turned towards her. She was smiling and he went through songs in his head, but none of them seemed to fit. He grabbed her guitar anyway and sang her a love song. He made it gentle, wistful, he wasn't sure this was going to pay off but he had to make his move now. If this would pass without them making love they never would, he just knew it. So he sang it nicely and looked at her, and she returned his gaze and he thought her eyes grew darker. He wasn't sure because it was so dusky, only light coming from a small bedside lamp that left her face in the shadows.

He let the music die out and looked at her, it was her move now. He stood up to put the guitar away.

She stood up as well and stepped to him. He wrapped his arms around her, looking at her, he was serious now. She kissed him again, and now she was more insistent, she let her tongue touch his. He let his hands slide slowly on her back, stopping on her hips, not daring to touch her buttocks. She pressed closer, and he thought she must know he was getting hard.

"Do you want me?" she asked, a little huskily.

"I do," he said. "So much."

His voice was husky and low. She pressed closer and slid her hands under his shirt, he shivered to feel her long, warm fingers on his skin. He had dreamed about this and it was every bit as sensual as he had hoped it would be. He dared to return the gesture, he searched for the hem of her shirt and touched her skin, her wonderful, smooth, soft skin, so undeniably feminine. She kissed him with more heat and he responded, bouncing off her so easily, she was making him so aroused now.

He moved her towards the bed, laid her down on it, and she looked at him with dark eyes as he looked at her. He was prepped up on one elbow and his other hand was still under her shirt, touching her stomach now. Her skin was so perfect, peachy and warm, flawless. He loved the way it felt under his palm, how he could feel her breathing.

"Do you want me?" he asked. She pulled him down to kiss her, and he did, carefully and at length, letting the tension grow.

"I do," she whispered. "So much."

He made a small sound and kissed her neck, she stretched it to allow him better access. He traced his lips on her amazing skin and breathed on it, making her sigh. He slid his hand higher under her shirt, found the edge of the bra, but now she stopped his hand, touching his arm.

"Do you want to touch my breasts?" she asked.

"I want to touch your everything," he whispered and kissed her neck again.

"But I," she said, somehow bashful. "My breasts are so small."

Ah, now this he could understand. He had learned early on that girls tended to have some sort of cute insecurities about their bodies, they mostly thought they were too much or too little. It was difficult to grasp why when they were so perfect, but he knew it had to be taken seriously.

"But they're yours," he said. "I bet they're just perfect."

She giggled a little, still embarrassed.

"Well I can not touch them if you don't want me to," he said earnestly and lifted his head to look at her. "But I would really want to. I'm not that into big breasts anyway."

Now that was a lie, or then again not, because he was into small ones as well.

"Yeah?" she said, smiling now. "What are you into, then?"

"You," he said quietly and convincingly and bent down to kiss her again. "Everything that is you."

"Ooh," she said and gasped when he slid his hand higher, touching her breasts over her bra.

Her breasts were small, but he could feel their softness, how it was unlike anything else. He could feel her nipple through the lace, against his palm, how hard it was. He pressed against it and moved his palm over it, and she gasped into his mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, and she nodded, knowing he wasn't talking about kissing her lips now.

He unbuttoned her shirt, very slowly, one button at the time, starting at the hem. When he exposed the first part of perfect, soft skin he kissed it, it was so perfect against his lips, he would've been content to just kiss her stomach for all eternity. But he opened another button, and kissed her slightly higher, and he marveled at her breath getting quicker as she got more impatient.

He unbuttoned her shirt until he reached her bra. He kissed her sternum just over her bra, unbuttoned the rest and kissed all the way up to her neck, kissed her lips again. She was getting hungrier, needier, and it was so good, he was so flattered she wanted him. He could feel his painfully erect penis reacting to her, twitching as they kissed.

He pulled her towards him, little to her side, and fumbled to open her bra. He was by no means an expert but got it done, even with one hand. He pushed her back down and now he could lift the bra from her skin, even as it was still hooked over her arms, and he touched her left breast, got it out of the cup, pressed his cheek against it.

It was perfect. It was small, true, but it was even smoother and softer than the rest of her skin. The firm nipple poking at his cheek was so perfect, he searched for it with his lips and kissed it, and she put her hands into his hair and moaned. He took her nipple into his mouth, not sucking all that much but making it wet, it was quite chilly in the room and he knew she would feel it strongly when he let it out of his warm mouth. She gasped when he did and he knew he had been right. He searched for her right breast and kissed it as well, and she arched her back and breathed harder.

He moved up again and kissed her, and then he said, "See? Just perfect."

She looked at him, touched his cheek, and then she sat up and removed her shirt and bra completely. He reached to touch one perfect breast and she let him, then pushed him to lay down and remained sitting herself.

"Can I see you?" she asked.

"You can do whatever you want with me," he said and she smiled at the lust in his voice.

She unbuttoned his shirt in turn, touching his skin with those wonderful, long warm fingers. She pinched his nipples lightly and he sighed, felt himself twitch. When she had opened his shirt she opened his belt, and without further ado she turned to pull his trousers down. He was so hard he was stretching his underwear, and she smiled and ran her palm over the bulge, saying, "Well you're not small."

He smiled, bashfully, he knew he wasn't but then he didn't have anything to compare to, he had seen other men naked of course but he had no idea how they compared to him in this setting. But this was one thing he wasn't uncertain of, his penis, it had never failed him and so far it hadn't appeared too small or too big with any of his partners.

She pushed the trousers off him and he helped her. It was chilly and they rolled around a little, to get a blanket from under them, they snuggled under it together. He kissed her again and touched her breasts, gently, her nipples reacting to him. He let his hand slide down on her wonderful skin, down her hip, down her thigh to find the hem of her skirt, then slowly back upwards under it.

She had long thick socks on, this was NY winter, after all. He wondered if it would be pantyhose, but then he found the edge, and let his hand touch her thigh. It was smooth, and warm, and she shivered as he followed the edge of the sock to the inside of her thigh, and oh God how smooth her skin was right there. He touched it with his fingertips, feeling awe and affection, being so honored to get to touch her like that.

He found the edge of her panties and wondered if he was moving too fast, but then she moved and pushed against his hand, and he breathed out in surprise against her neck that he'd been kissing. He could feel her heat against his palm, and unmistakable wetness. She wanted him, there was no doubt about it.

He rubbed her with his palm lightly, she met his movement, and he pressed his fingers on what would be her slit under the thin fabric. She gasped. He still rubbed with his palm, and moved his fingers ever so slightly, to move the fabric aside, to get to touch her.

She was so wet. It was the first thing he could think of. He lifted his face from her neck to look at her and she met his gaze, her eyes dark and serious, as he rubbed her clitoris lightly with his palm and explored her lips with his fingertips. He was slow and gentle, he could guess she would've welcomed something rougher, but he just couldn't rush into it like that. He needed to look at her as he touched her nicely, spread her lips a little, felt the hot slick wetness inside. He pushed his middle finger into her, just a little, just to feel that amazing hotness, and he just had to ask her, "Can I kiss you?"

She hesitated, then whispered, "Want me to go wash it?"

"No, unless you absolutely want to," he said.

"Really?" she said.

"Really," he said. They looked at each other in the gloom, he was still touching her, and then he whispered, "Please?"

She laughed a low and husky laugh and said, "Well if you absolutely want to."

"Oh, I do," he whispered and kissed her. He kissed slowly down her body, greeting her breasts as he went by, sucking on her nipples a bit harder now, loving the soft curve of her abdomen, and then he got where he was going.

He pushed her skirt up gently, eased her panties down, and he rolled her socks down with them. He pulled the skirt down in slow, fluid movement, his hands caressing her legs, she arched her back to lift her hips. He loved her legs, long and slender and very feminine, and when he got her clothes off he traced back up the same way he'd come, and then he laid down between her legs and leaned in to kiss her.

Her smell was intoxicating. He thought she might be embarrassed by it, but he loved it, the musky warm scent that was her. He kissed her labia gently, covering all of it in turn, kissing it with tender lips. He could feel she was really wet but he wanted to start slowly anyway, be respectful. And she let him do it, even as she was brimming with impatience, he could feel it.

He kissed her slowly, adding more tongue, tasting her, and when he lapped her open and continued upwards she lifted her hips to him and moaned, her hands in his hair. He smiled and kissed her clitoris, greeting it. He planted a big and soft kiss with his lips over it, and then kept his lips in place and explored it with his tongue, nudging it under its little hood.

He could hear her arousal, she moaned softly and it was the most amazing sound. He wanted to make her keep doing that, make her feel as good as she was now feeling and then better, and he licked her, gently and friendly. She started lifting her hips against his mouth, she forgot about herself and transformed into pure lust, she moaned and grinded against his face. Quite quickly she came, she tensed and shuddered and let out the most exquisite small sound he had ever heard in his life. He felt his penis twitch under him, against the mattress.

He waited for a few seconds. She was pulsing so near to his face he could sense it, he couldn't have explained how but he did. Then he kissed her clit again, the same tender and soft kiss with his lips with what he'd started, and she shuddered throughout her body. He kissed back up her body, slowly, and this time he didn't go for her nipples but kissed between her breasts, up to her neck. He wasn't going for arousal now, he was thanking her. He got up to her neck and kissed near her ear, and then he snuggled close to her and pulled her into his arms.

She was still breathing heavily. She cuddled closer to him, affectionately, and he held her and stroked her back slowly, her narrow, warm back, so lovely, pulled the blanket up so her shoulders wouldn't be cold.

"Oh, you're not bad," she said.

"Thank you," he said. "You're wonderful, yourself."

"You haven't seen anything yet," she said. His penis twitched, and she laughed, she could feel it against her thigh.

She tilted her head so that she could see his face. He looked back, all love now, he wanted her badly but he was so happy with her orgasm he was ready to leave it at that if she would want so. It had been so pure, so wonderful, and her pleasure meant so much more to him than his own. She regarded something and then she said, "I should probably put my diaphragm on, or what?"

"I would love that," he admitted. "Or can I do that? I don't know how, though."

"You'd want to try?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, yeah," he said. She laughed and leaned to kiss him.

"You smell like pussy," she said.

"I'm sorry," he said and smiled. "You want me to go wash my face?"

She looked at him nicely and kissed him again, and he assumed it was a no. She got up to get her diaphragm and explained to him how it should be set up, and then he tried. It was difficult and they kept laughing, but it was really arousing as well. He tried to be gentle and it was wonderful to try to reach inside her, so deep, and feel her wonderful warm slick insides. Eventually she checked and thought it was properly in place, and they laid watching each other again.

"I've never had a guy do that before," she said.

"I'm sorry I wasn't any good," he said.

"Oh but you are good," she said. "No doubt about it."

He didn't know how to respond. She didn't seem to want a response, she pushed him over on his back and let her hand move on his skin much as he had done to her earlier. He wasn't hairy, and she stroked his smooth breast and stomach, feeling up his shape just as he had hers, and he had to joke a little, he said, "I'm sorry my breasts are so small."

"Oh?" she said and smiled impishly. "I think they're just perfect."

She bent down to kiss his nipples, and he sighed, it was so sensual. He loved her warm and wet mouth on him, the tickle of her tongue that didn't tickle but somehow felt straight in his penis. She kissed all over his skin now that she had started, and her warm, soft lips on his skin were so right, so tender, he hadn't really gotten soft in between but now he was so hard it was difficult to be again. And now she reached for his briefs, removed them carefully, and then she laid beside him, propped on one elbow, and watched. She touched him, wrapping her long, beautiful fingers around his shaft. She stroked him slowly and said, "You're beautiful."

He just moaned, he couldn't concentrate on forming sentences now. She smiled and leaned in to kiss his lips, stroking his hot, firm shaft. He reached to touch her skin, caress her side, back, he lifted his hips to meet her hand, and when she broke the kiss she was breathing harder as well.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Want me to go wash it?" he asked.

"I can do that," she said and before he could stop her she had gotten out of bed. She went to the bathroom and returned a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth. He moaned as she washed his genitals, its warm, wet touch was so good he was getting a little worried of how this was going to go.

"So can I kiss you?" she asked.

"Please," he whispered, and moaned as she started to kiss down his body, as slowly as he had done to her. Now he regretted it, he would've wanted her to just take him in her mouth, right now, he would've wanted to push inside her. He thought of the diaphragm and almost couldn't hold it already, thinking it probably meant she was expecting him inside her.

Expecting him to cum inside her, no less.

She kissed the tip of his penis gently, greeting it like he had greeted her clitoris, and he moaned and twitched in her hand. She didn't tease him as much as he had teased her, though, she got quicker faster, but soon he had to stop her, he pulled her off his penis and said, huskily, "Please, Katie, wait a minute."

He was twitching in her hand, breathing hard, and he already regretted stopping her. She wasn't bad at giving head, not at all, and he wanted to cum already, wanted it so bad.

She gave him a moment to gather himself, but she knew what he meant, what he wanted, she straddled him and he gasped as he felt her hot, slick wetness against his shaft. He was painfully hard now, it felt like every nerve ending on his body was on his penis, and she moved against him and he moaned.

She grinded against him slowly. He searched for her clitoris with his thumb, didn't try to rub her but let her rub against him, and she moaned as well and did, finding just the angle for her, just the rhythm. It was extremely good but it let him level out just the same, gave him a minute to get down a little while she was getting higher. And when she lifted herself to get him inside her he wasn't so afraid anymore that he would explode the minute she lowered herself onto his cock.

He was rock hard and pulsing. She was really wet, still or again, but she eased him inside slowly, taking him deeper by each push. He forced himself to stay still and let her do it, not rush her, he could feel she was tight and guessed it was a fine line between pleasure and hurting her if he would go too fast. So he let himself caress her instead, reached to touch her abdomen, her wonderful skin, her breasts that were small but so perfect, how strongly she reacted when he touched her nipples. Light from the bedside lamp landed on her body, and he marveled at the shadows it created, it made her skin look every bit as soft and delicate as it felt under his hands.