Chapter 2: Intimacy
This story is semi-sequel to the original, "Impassioned." Though it's meant to stand alone, parts and phrases may be more meaningful if the original has been read. Neither of the stories are particularly wild or fantastic, which I think is the hottest part about them: remember as you read that you are a simple chance-meeting away from being in my shoes next week.
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Several years later, now I was the one looking down on my soon-to-be lover, waiting anxiously for a sign that she was ready for the most intimate moment of her life to arrive. Lying there, perfect curly brown locks framing her fair face, large brown eyes flickering flashes of excitement and fear, Melody was more reminiscent of a scared angel than a human girl. I still remembered that feeling from so many years before, and in spite of the deepest desires of my instinctive being, I waited, patiently, for a sign.
We had met years before, through some random club or another in college, just as you meet any number of people in day-to-day life. No "eyes locked from across the room" or "love at first sight" sort of thing, just two people that shared an interest and a few hours with the same group of people every week. In fact, it was a full year later before I had truly noticed Mel for the first time, at a mutual friend's twenty first birthday party. I had shared a few drinks by the time she walked into the bar, dressed in a tight t-shirt and short skirt for quite possibly the first time in her life.
I was glad I was sitting down, and noticed several more guys quickly finding seats themselves. That familiar heat and redness began to creep into my face as she took the seat next to mine (the one nearest to the birthday boy still open), having never seen or imagined Melody quite like this! She was normally dressed in casual jeans and looser shirts around campus, not exactly as a tom-boy, but not particularly feminine either. You were as likely to walk in on her watching a football game as a chick-flick, something I always found uniquely and indescribably attractive. Tonight, however, she was a number-one knockout, dressed to kill!
Sitting next to each other, we naturally started talking, my own tongue quickly loosened by a few drinks, and from there we hit it off. I took her out for dinner and a movie the next weekend, and was rather shocked when she leaned in for the good-night kiss before I did. From there, it was a classic boy-meets-girl story, a few dates, a few parties, a few serious conversations, a few funny ones...you know the story.
Physically, Melody was surprisingly forward, to a point. Far too many girls have gotten comfortable with the idea that anything that's not definitely a "no" is a "yes"; Mel on the other hand was one to make her mind clear in the bedroom, in her own little ways. She kissed me with passion, moaned or otherwise expressed her approval when I took a new step, and on occasion even gave the envelope a nudge herself. More than once we had lain naked together, touching, caressing, fondling, and basically keeping the other well entertained; she was, however, still a virgin, and had been reluctant to leave that behind.
It wasn't that Mel was particularly religious, or prudish about her virginity; she simply dreamt of a perfect, fairy-tale moment to give it away, and hadn't yet come across her dream. I never expected to be that dream, and by the way I had never pressured her past that one explicitly defined limit, she knew that; looking back, the fact that I never expected it was what made me the one, I suppose.
Tonight began simply, with a movie, watched from my computer screen as we lay intertwined beneath the warm covers of my bed. A moment ago I was caressing her arm with one hand while rubbing her head with the other. A moment later, I was kissing her lightly on the cheek; then the back of her hand, down to the tips of her fingers; then slowly, as seductively as I could, nibbling the tip, teasingly sucking one, then two knuckles between my lips. It is inexplicable how incredibly sexy this simple action can be, both in giving and receiving!
That was as much seducing as I had to do, Mel apparently already being in the mood, because she just turned to me, kissing me deeply. There was no testing the waters or beating around the bush in this kiss; her tongue pushed hard at my lips, then teeth, as each gave way, freeing her to explore the deepest recesses of my mouth. Her hands found their way to each side of my face at first, and mine to the small of her back. She dropped a hand to my chest, I dropped mine to the top of her jeans; she dropped hers near my navel, I firmly cupped her ass. This seemed to ignite a fire in her, and she breathed in sharply as she pulled my mouth deeper into her own in response. Tentatively, as if for the first time, her hand slid down further, to the top of my shorts, her fingertips lightly fingering the top of my boxers; I mimicked the same position with my own hand, pulling it around to the front of her jeans. Having caught on, she boldly slid beneath my boxers to take hold of her prize: eight full inches of manhood, obviously far ahead of the both of us and ready for action!
Lest she feel left out, I responded in kind, finding that she was no less prepared, feeling moisture along both sides of my hand. Melody's womanhood could never be called something so short and nasty as a "cunt." There's nothing dirty about it: perfectly pink, always trimmed and shaved, with small, sexy lips that promised an unbelievably tight fit for anything lucky enough to find itself between them. As hard as I had been before, I grew an extra inch in a split second.
She fondled, I caressed; she stroked, I fingered; she grabbed, I shoved; she got faster, I got deeper. It suddenly occurred to me that as much fun as her pussy may be, there was much more of Melody to enjoy! Without warning, I rolled myself atop her, straddling to keep my balance, as I greedily worked my free hand beneath her shirt. I suppose her breasts had been impatiently waiting for a bit of attention, because before I could get far she pulled both hands free and leaned forward enough to remove her shirt, followed soon by my own.
Mel always wears front-clasp bras, something so simple but sexy in a way I can't explain. A little practice was all it took to learn to unclasp these with my teeth alone, something that always got an amused giggle out of her. Her breasts were my next target, each tenderly kissed from top to bottom, around and around, spiraling ever closer to the nipple, closer still, closer still, until, ages over-due, my lips found them, already hardening in anticipation. At first, I simply pulled at them lightly with my lips, reminiscent of her finger tips moments before, moving from one to the other, driving her mad in frustration. Then, at just the right moment, I worked my teeth into the equation, a tender nibble and nothing more. Her hands encouraged me, one running through my hair, occasionally giving a gentle suggestion on which way to go, the other on my shoulder, squeezing when I had gotten something right. One of my own had meanwhile found it's previous home, now surprisingly even warmer and wetter than before, and doubly encouraged by her increasingly active hips.
All the while, small moans and gasps could be heard just above me, indications of a deep desire to voice her incessant approval, desires purposely repressed so as not to draw too much attention from behind thin walls. Curling my fingers upwards and in, while pulling a little more forcefully than before at one of her fully-aroused nipples, I seemed to have found and fulfilled a long-growing need within her body, and all of her meekness and restraint gave way to a long, throaty, vocal, "Ooooooooooooh!" as her hips twitched and drove themselves up into my fingers hard and fast.
Her orgasm may have spelled relief for her, but it only fueled my own desires. No longer bound by common restraint, both hands made quick work of her jeans and underwear. One orgasm to start the night was good, but two would be better! I was completely unconcerned about seduction and temptation, even teasing, now, and dove face-first into my next target, quite literally. My tongue made swift work of any and all of her sweet nectar that had found itself somewhere between her thighs, while my thumb set to work on her clit. She tasted wonderful, slightly metallic, in a good way, with sweet and salty overtones to the flavor. I first drove my tongue straight into her, lashing up between those two perfect folds, and lightly against her most sensitive spot of all. After repeating this for a minute or two, I began sucking on the swollen lips themselves, not being one to neglect any possible source of pleasure.
My once quiet lover no longer found herself restrained by propriety (or thin walls), I suppose, and perhaps having teetered on the edge of orgasm for too long now, took control into her own hands (figuratively), telling me where to go and what to do next.
"Oooooh...just a little higher....higher.....higher!" I knew where she wanted me, and purposefully played coy, just to test how forceful she could be. "Ah! Stop teasing me! Suck on my clit you devil!"
