If you've just joined the series here, know that it's a slow burn, more Romance than Porn. It's somewhat autobiographical, and I'm trying to keep it fairly realistic, things that *might* have happened to a shy 18yo guy as he matured sexually, but admittedly in a hyper-sexual environment.
Rita let us lay like that for an indeterminable (to me) amount of time. Me on my back, exhausted, spent, drowsy, Nia's right hand still wrapped around my penis through the boxers, her head on my chest, my right arm around her back, hand on her shoulder, left hand gently running fingers through her hair. Her legs intertwined with my right, my left calf sandwiched between her graceful calves.
Perfect bliss. Had we known a meteor was about to strike the hotel we probably wouldn't have moved.
I want to die just like this, with you.
But all good things must come to an end, and Rita cleared her throat, somewhat startling me awake (and I think Nia too) and out of my revery.
"Alright, Romeo & Juliet, rouse yourselves and let's talk about what you just experienced."
Nia moved first of course, letting go of my manhood, wiping her hand on the lower part of my shorts. As she rose she must've noticed a bit of drool on my chest, which she self-consciously wiped away. Once she cleared me I was able to sit up, Rita passing me a hand towel to cover my shorts.
With Nia and I sitting side-by-side on the edge of the bed, legs and torsos touching, holding hands again, Rita asked us to describe in one word how we felt about the orgasms we'd each just had, back and forth:
"Fantastic." "Intense." "Soul-moving." "Bonding." "Connecting." "Explosive." "Caring." "Tender." "Thebestthingever!" The last one was Nia, cheating 4 words into one.
"Excellent! Do either of you feel any shame about what you've done?"
Nia and I looked at each other, and I didn't see any shame or guilt in her eyes or expression, nor did I think there was any in mine. We both turned back toward Rita with shy smiles and timid, "Nopes." We simultaneously squeezed each other's hand.
"Good, and you shouldn't! What I saw was two lovely young people doing what comes naturally, perhaps what God intended them to do with their bodies. But there was an extra intensity, wasn't there?" Nods.
"Mark, I know
you
felt it. Can you describe to Nia what you felt in that moment, and as you lay together afterwards?"
I won't bother you with my dialogue, because much of it was halting, even incoherent, but I tried to describe to her all the feelings I expounded at the end of the last chapter. The doubt in my ability to please a woman (she blushed at 'woman'), some doubt in my ability to perform with one, the relief when it all worked out, the infinite tenderness I felt toward her, the sort of cosmic connection, and the idea that I could've died in her arms like that and been utterly content.
I tried to leave out any notion of 'love' per se, because I knew that was probably just my emotions and hormones running high, and I didn't want to scare her away. Or worse, confess it or something just short of it, only to find that it wasn't reciprocated.
"Very good, I thought you probably felt those things. It's natural and healthy, and really beautiful."
"Nia, how did
you
feel? Both when you were the receiver and the giver. Do you echo many of Mark's feelings, or want to share any different ones of your own?"
Nia agreed with everything I said, and her manner, her tone, her looks at me, led me to believe that she shared some of the depth of feelings I had for her. That if it wasn't truly love, it wasn't just lust either. She compared this experience with those she'd had in the past with boys, those who hadn't really known her much, who weren't interested in giving her pleasure, but were mainly interested in just pawing at her, playing with her like a toy. In short, in getting themselves off without regard for her pleasure or feelings.
"Excellent! I'd hoped one of you would bring that idea up, that comparison. Because right? When you feel a real attraction to someone, to their
mind
, to their desires, to their
needs
, and not just to their private parts, then the lovemaking is infused with so much more
meaning
, isn't it?"
We both agreed, me thinking back to when my foster sister had me pawing at her, trying to satisfy only
her
needs, with no thought to my feelings or desires. Just assuming I was a boy, so of course I'd go along.
But I wasn't wired like that, I couldn't do it like that, anonymous and purely sexual. This though, this connection that Rita had so intricately woven between Nia and I, this is what I needed for it to be meaningful to me.
I told Rita and Nia that in so many words, tearing up as I did. (I've always teared up easily, eyes getting watery, that tickling pain in the bridge of the nose.) Nia reached around with both arms and gave me a strong, long hug, which I returned. And Rita is uncanny in her ability to read people, because when even
I
was thinking,
Okay, we should probably break this off
, she spoke up.
"Lovely, you two are so good together! I'm really enjoying watching you blossom in your confidence and your sexuality. But Mark, off to the shower with you now! Just throw your shorts in the trash, I brought you some new ones. Get yourself nice and clean and smelling good for your lover; there's a toiletries kit for you with some necessities."
I'm surprised by Rita's preparations, but then realized that
she knew all along she was going to bring me back here!
Or had a pretty good idea she was, and the 'interview' was mostly a ruse, maybe just to keep me guessing? Candace probably had a large part to do with that, artfully 'selling' Rita on me, talking up my good points, that she wouldn't be disappointed, etc. That thought made me proud of myself.
But whatever Candace's role, or whatever the reason for Rita's trust in me (was it intuition?), I was glad they'd brought me to this place and time where I was blessed with getting to know Nia like this. Which then had me wondering,
Just how many times has Rita done this? She said she was doing research for her Master's degree, after all. And with interracial couples, no less!
But with a, "Go, go, go," I was shooed off to the shower. Forgetting all those previous thoughts, I kissed Nia on the lips (it seemed like the right thing to do) and headed to the shower.
"No need to close the door," is called after me. And you know what? I'm not even embarrassed by that, though I would've been just the day before. I find the toiletries kit with shampoo and a bar of soap, ditch the boxers, and hop into the shower.
I've cleaned up down there and soaped all over and am shampooing my hair, eyes closed, when I hear the shower door slide open. Peeking with one eye (I hate getting soap in my eyes), I see Nia stepping in, looking bashful yet playful.
In almost a whisper, "Miss Rita said I should come join you, since I need to shower too, and it would be fun for us." Giggles as she closes the glass door behind her.
How exciting, my little Nia joining me in the shower! But then I wondered what we were 'allowed' to do in here alone together, and I must've backed away from Nia when she approached me.
"It's okay, Rita said we could soap each other up and....
touch
each other all over,
except
the genitals."
I think I said, "Woo hoo!" And my hands, still soapy from shampooing my hair, went straight to her small breasts, covering them, rotating atop them, doing circles around them, soaping them up. Then as my fingers were about to directly engage her nipples, I thought to ask, pausing mid-motion, "Is this alright, Nia?"
"Yes, silly! I like it, it feels wonderful."
Then as my hands continued their play, both nipples between thumbs and forefingers, "I'm glad you like them." Pause. "I'm glad you like
me
."
That stopped me in my tracks and made me abruptly stop thinking about her sexually, but as a person, maybe a timid little girl who had been looking for acceptance, the same as I was, and it made me feel guilty for 'attacking' her breasts as I'd done, though I'd meant no harm.
I had an upwelling of tenderness for her, that urge to protect her and never let her get hurt; certainly never get hurt by
me
. So I instinctually grabbed her face in both hands, still somewhat soapy, and looked into her eyes, saying all the sorts of things that by now you'd expect me to say about respect and gratitude and tenderness. And then I kissed her, just gently on the lips.
She broke off the kiss rather abruptly and pushed herself into my chest and body, folding herself into my arms, which I squeezed about her as tightly as I dared. I thought she was crying but didn't want to ask or even mention it. I just held her until she lessened her grip on me.
Then she looked up at me, tears definitely in her eyes, and mouthed/whispered, "
Thank you.
"
My heart just melted and I fell head-over-heels for this girl. We went back to the hug, but after a time I gently turned her around, enveloping her from behind, my hands clasped across her stomach, her bottom pressed into my upper thighs. I just held her like that, the hot water cascading over us, and whispered sweet nothings into her hair and ears, kissing the sides of her face at times.
You may wonder how my phallus wasn't in the way between her and me; it was because this wasn't a sexual moment. I wasn't thinking of having sex with this girl, my Nia, I was only thinking how I could make her feel accepted, wanted, safe, protected, even
loved
. It was a powerful moment for me, and I think for her too.
But after she'd had enough of that (and I could tell she'd been enjoying it by the way she pressed herself into me, wrapping her arms over mine, murmuring and purring), she slowly disengaged and told me to turn around so she could wash my back. She did a thorough job on my back and legs, spending longer than probably necessary on my butt, which in later years I was told by women was cute.
After she rinsed me off I told her it was her turn, so I traded places with her, putting her under the showerhead, facing the gentle spray, then soaping up her back. But of course I had to get her bottom too, as she'd done mine, and the backs of her legs, and here I started becoming sexually interested in her again.
It's only natural, right?
So with her back covered in soap, I freshened up the lather in my hands and began to soap up that beautiful little bottom. Ohmygosh, it was divine! More so because I could actually touch it, put my hands on it. Which I hadn't done yet, with her or anyone. And much as I liked any kind of breasts, of course I liked most any kind of butts.
Hers was smallish, taut, smooth, firm, and somewhat protruding, not flat like the "white girl aesthetic." It felt magical under my hands, yielding to pressure, yet firm and springy, like those red rubber balls we used to play dodgeball with in PE. I'd occasionally run my hands up the full length of her back on both sides, massaging the tops of her shoulders, then quickly back down for more work on that butt of hers. Needless to say, Mr. Willie was becoming interested.
On my second trip up and back down, Nia spread her legs a little wider, indicating (
