***
Leif hadn't meant to start feeling her up under her skirt. It definitely wasn't that he didn't want to touch her. Oh he did. In fact, if she wasn't so shy, he longed to make love to her right now. Not fuck her..that could come later...right now he wanted to make love to that beautiful creature and leave her coming everywhere, just like she came on his fingers. He'd felt those sweet little lower lips of hers, with the coarse little exotic hairs, throbbing with joy. He just...he wanted verbal confirmation that he'd pleasured her because it was the gentlemanly thing to do.
But, he hadn't wanted to caress her under the skirt, because he knew how shy she was, how she insisted on taking things slowly, and he didn't want to scare her away from him, by moving too fast, too soon. She'd warned him carefully about that, and in his eagerness to explore her sensually, he hoped he hadn't blown it with her, by scaring her away.
It just happened. Really it happened because she looked up at him like a sweet little angel needing reassurance, and a bolster of self-confidence to understand that she was not a failure despite not using her Yale degrees. He'd meant what he said, but the compliment rushed through her, he could see the comfort and happiness flood her features...her cute beige skin blushed with his compliment.
And then, he'd started kissing her and then she was so damn cute. After that, the primal, lusty part of him took over, when he was kissing her hot mouth, because he loved the way Lynne tasted. He'd never tasted a woman's mouth like hers, so hot and full, and sensual. But when he reached under her skirt, he'd really wanted to make her feel good, just sensual ecstasy because it seemed like she was hurting in some secret, private place, and he'd wanted to flood her senses with joy instead of that pain she was carrying.
And when he touched her, actually just her thighs, he could tell she was already wet, and aching. He'd meant just only to tease her crotch a little bit, and see how she responded to the comfort and joy he wanted to bring, but when he teased the little elastic edge and felt she was wet, clear through there, why, he couldn't just tease her- he wanted to please her.
She hadn't tried to stop him then, he didn't expect her too, because if she was that wet she was aching for him to relieve her. The knowledge that she needed a physical release had left him feeling powerful, proud, his aching member straining against his jeans and leaking copious amounts of pre-cum.
He could tell that she didn't have a lot of experience. The good pleasure made her cry. But it didn't scare him away. It made him love her more. Not just like her. It made him love her, because it seemed like she didn't fool around with a lot of men, and, if she let him pleasure her, and sexually it felt so good to her, it made her cry, she must be starting to care for him deeply. He wasn't used to such emotional shit with the sexual, but he loved it with her, because he loved her. He already knew, before her orgasmic declaration of love.
But, after the tears, when she cried she loved him, he couldn't help hoping that she didn't just say that because she was coming. He'd never had a woman scream that they loved him, but he had women scream all kinds of crazy things when they were pleasured, and he couldn't be sure that screaming that she loved him wasn't just a reflexive response that made the pleasure even better while she came.
If she meant it, he hoped she'd say it again, so he could respond, that, hell yes, he already knew that he loved her too...and gauge her for how serious she was ready to take things. If she was ready, to get more serious, even very serious, he damn sure was ready! He was smitten!
He didn't know how he knew, he loved her, how many other girls he'd dated before, but it never clicked like this, like lock, and key and he was learning about love just like she was through her explosive orgasm at the gentle rubbing of his fingertips, it was something intangible that you couldn't explain, but it took you over. She was taking him over!
If she didn't say 'I love you' again soon, maybe soon the time could present itself so he could ask her again, if she meant it, and tell her that, indeed he loved her too. Or, maybe, just maybe she'd go and do something sweet and adorable and he could confess his adoration, and pretend he'd never heard her say it first.
She was so damn sweet, and shy, and he wanted to eat her up with a spoon, and lucky for him, he had her damp, sticky wetness all over his fingers from rubbing her so good and gentle until she came. He'd never been with a woman so sensual. She might not have had oodles of experience, it didn't appear that way, but she was so sensual he thought he'd cream his pants touching her. The moaning, the whimpering, the tears, the way she screamed she loved him. Her voice was downright erotic, and he really believed he could come his pants just listening to her feverish little inner city voice yelling loudly that she loved him. Just like in his dreams when he pleasured her orally.
