The first time they'd had sex, there was no grand finale. Camira and Hayden had stopped after twenty minutes of intense steamy fucking. Neither of them had tapped out or called it quits, it just happened.
After that, Camira began to realize their sessions always seemed to stop before Hayden could reach a crescendo. He'd made sure she'd gotten off, of course, insisting on eating her pussy until she trembled and called his name, but time and time again, Camira began to wonder why there were never any fireworks for him.
She'd asked him once, tucked into his warm arms after he'd fucked her so good she'd nearly cried. "Why don't you ever cum?" Hayden shrugged and told her it wasn't a big deal, but it was a big deal; at least it was to her.
As time went on, Camira brought it up more and more. "Do I need to say or do something?"
Hayden shook his head. "No, It's alright."
"Do I need to wear something?" Camira pictured herself posing in one of those trashy cliché maid's uniforms. From there, her mine lept and landed her in long scarlet stockings, a matching leather color, and nothing else. She liked the latter of the two best.
Hayden Laughed. "You can if you want to."
"What do you want?" She asked, frustrated. "What's going to get you off?"
Hayden's laugh died in his throat, and he grumbled, "It's not a big deal, Camira." She heard his voice turn cold, and Camira decided to drop it.
She began to think that maybe he was into some kinky shit. "Maybe he likes rough BDSM." Camira saw herself in an imaginary sex dungeon; her arms tied behind her back and a spreader bar between her legs while Hayden stood in faded black jeans. She imagined him poised with glinting silvery nipple clamps in one hand, and a short medieval sex whip in the other. The thought excited and frightened her all at once. She'd always been fairly vanilla with sex, but she was smitten with Hayden, so if he wanted to tie her up and flog her, she'd let him.
"God," she thought as another idea popped up in her mind. "What if he's into feet?"
She'd been walking home from work when the idea came to her, and Camira cringed in the middle of the sidewalk, causing people to cast sideways glances at her. She looked down at her feet, which were comfortable inside of a pair of cork wedges. While Camira didn't think she had hooves, she couldn't bring herself to them as the focal point of someone's fantasy.
She shook her head, and it seemed to clear her mind up a little. As far as she knew, Hayden had never shown her feet any special attention, so he probably wasn't a feet guy, so she shrugged it off. With every what if she thought of, Camira found a way to write it off, either based on Hayden's behavior or some of her past experiences. By the end of the day, she was no closer to knowing just what was going on with him.
When she got home, Camira sighed and decided to drop it. "I'm not going to let this get to me. I am not going to let this get to me."
That night, it got to her, and she called Hayden frantically needing to know. "Is it me?" Camira asked, clutching her phone. She swallowed hard and asked in a quiet voice. "Is it my body?"
"Camira," he sighed. "No. It's not you. You're a jewel." He paused for a moment before adding, "You're my jewel." That made her smile, and she felt the knot of worry in her stomach relax a little.
"Why is this bothering you so much?"
"Because I want to make you happy." She heard him chuckle on the other side of the phone.
"You do make me happy." He sounded genuine, but Camira heard the pause after he spoke and knew he was holding something back. "I'll tell you what," he continued. "Come by this weekend, and we will talk about it."
"Yeah," Camira said. "Okay, I'll see you Friday night." She hung up the phone, feeling a little better about everything, though she was no closer to figuring out what was going on with him? He said it wasn't her body, but what if it was?
She remembered bringing him home after a night out. They stumbled into her apartment building, not exactly drunk, but miles away from being sober. Instead, they'd found themselves in that giddy-horny space that alcohol often led you to. She remembered the rub and scruff of his trimmed beard tickling her as they made out like teenagers.
She wondered why his kisses had a warm spice to them, like cinnamon, but shrugged it off. It was probably the alcohol. Then, Hayden pulled her into the service elevator, turned her around, and flipped her dress up.
Camira remembered bracing herself against the wall as Hayden went to his knees. She remembered a long moan escaping her and the cool steel against her cheek while Hayden spread her open and worked his fevered tongue into her. He devoured her pussy from behind, pausing every now and then to tease her asshole. He was driving her wild!
His fingers wrapped around her legs and traced up her thighs to tease her clit until Camira's strength almost gave out. His tongue felt velvety against her pussy, and she remembered her whole body tightening as a hot rush came over her, then there was a release as she squirted in the service elevator.
She turned back to him, feeling embarrassed to have dampened his shirt and jeans, but Hayden didn't seem to notice. He opened wide and licked her juices off her fingers, making a show of it for her, which only sent Camira down a new spiral of arousal. When she thought back to that night, and the sex they'd had afterward, Hayden didn't sound like he had a problem with her body.
When Friday night came, Camira found herself knocking on Hayden's apartment door. Her nerves roiled in her stomach, but she was determined to see this through, one way or another.
Hayden answered with a pleasant smile, then he saw Camira, in a trench coat, with a clutch in one hand and a small bag in the other.
"Hi," he said, and she thought his puzzled and amused look almost made everything worth it.
"Can I come in?" She asked in a sultry tone. "Or are you going to eye-fuck me in the hallway."
"S-sure." Hayden stuttered before standing to one side. "Come on in."
It wasn't her first time at his place, but it was rare that they stayed here. His apartment was larger, but Hayden lived a little off the beaten path. Camira's apartment was just off of Logan Square and closer to the bars, restaurants, and shops.
She looked around at all of the art on his walls and was always a little shocked to see the dozens of paintings and pictures he'd hung up. Each one held a quiet serenity to it, and all of them span the gamut from sky blue to shades of cobalt. Camira thought he had an interesting taste, and for a calm, almost stoic guy, it seemed to make a weird sort of sense to her.
"What are you wearing?" She turned from his wall of art to see Hayden eyeing her trench coat suspiciously, and Camira looked down as if she'd only just noticed it.
"What? Oh, this old thing?" Camira began to unbutton her coat until it hung open. Then, while Hayden was practically drooling, she pulled it from her shoulders and let it drop quietly to the floor.
She watched Hayden's jaw drop and practically fall on the floor. She allowed him to take in her long strawberry-colored stockings, and Camira could almost feel his eyes tracing up her body to her matching leather choker. That was it. Everything in between was bare.
"Like what you see?" She asked.
