It was a sturdy table from an old farm house. Not a thing of beauty exactly; with thick, square legs and a worn surface, it lacked elegance, but it fit perfectly with the rustic interior of Nico's house, and coincidentally, it fit perfectly in the spacious dining room of his barely furnished house.
Nico had bought it at an auction and it had taken four men to load it onto the truck. It was solid oak, eight feet long: a real beast of a thing. It barely wobbled when he thrust.
"Oh God, that's so good," I panted, staring up at him. "Don't stop, don't stop."
His arm muscles strained as he grasped the edge, and his brown curls bobbed violently around his face with each forward motion of his hips. Even with the beard he'd let grow over the past week, he was hot as hell, and just looking into his soft, dark eyes, so full of emotion, brought me closer to coming.
For my birthday in September, after a lot of not-so-subtle reminders that he'd made me a promise, Nico told his sister Rose we'd been seeing each other. She'd reacted exactly how he'd predicted (and worried) she would.
First, of course, she was thrilled he was finally dating again. More than once she'd expressed to me how much she worried he'd never date again, that he'd spend the rest of his life alone, missing his wife and missing out on a second chance to fall in love. Learning he'd been dating again thrilled her to pieces.
She'd noticed he'd seemed happier lately, more like his old self, but she'd just assumed it was because his business was going so well, or that his daughter Lena was growing into a sweet and happy little girl, shedding some of the shyness and uncertainty she'd developed since her mother's death. She'd never dreamed he'd met someone; she'd been sure—because, she admitted, she'd been watching him like a hawk for signs of anything romantic happening in his life—she'd notice if he was finally dating again.
He'd kept it a secret from her! He'd kept it a secret for months. From her—his sister! And so, she was angry, a little hurt, but mostly frustrated she'd missed out on months of excitement.
She couldn't stay angry long, though, not when I was the reason her brother was so happy. She admitted she'd never considered me as someone he'd be interested in romantically—or, no doubt, she would have done her best to push the two of us together—but she and I had grown close as friends, and she didn't doubt for a second I was worthy of her brother's affections.
Nico's worry hadn't been that Rose wouldn't approve. His worry had been that she'd approve so much, so wholeheartedly, and with her usual over-the-top enthusiasm, she would leave little room for him to enjoy his own feelings, or even feel them. He was a quiet, thoughtful man. He needed time and space to process this big change in his life. And while Rose was sensitive and loving, she was also a little overbearing, especially with her siblings, and especially Nico, whom she was closest to of all her brothers.
"I'm just going to have to be patient," Nico said, after he'd told Rose his big news. "She's going to want to talk about weddings and rings and how soon we'll move in together. She's going to talk about it every chance she gets, and I'm just going to have to let her. I mean, I can't deny her that."
"It's better than sneaking around," I'd reminded him. "Besides, she said she'd be happy to watch Lena anytime we want. That's a pretty good trade, right?"
It was, of course. The best trade.
Since telling Rose, it had become easier for Nico and I to see each other. She was more than happy to watch Lena on Friday or Saturday nights so we could go out. It made all the difference in moving our relationship forward, and pretty soon we were able to add real dates to our calendars in addition to the quick lunches and carefully coordinated evening encounters at his still-unoccupied house. We spent every evening together we could. Sometimes just meeting to get ice cream and take Lena to the park, a few hours together in public, but also a few romantic dinners that naturally segued to hours of intense and satisfying sex.
Sex was amazing with Nico, and the more I got, the more I wanted. Every single time I saw him, even if it was only 10 minutes, I was left agitated and aching, my pussy throbbing with arousal. I wanted him so bad. So much. I wanted to touch him and kiss him, to feel his arms around me and his body against mine. I wanted his mouth on my breasts and his cock in my hand, his sweat on my skin, and the sound of his pleasure in my ears. I'd never been so obsessed with having sex before, never so focused on when it might happen next. Every time we had a moment together, some part of my brain was busy calculating if we had time for sex. Luckily for me, Nico was in the very same boat.
So when he called, with free time on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and suggested having lunch at his house, I knew he meant sex. I picked up some sandwiches and salad on the way, but they stayed on the kitchen counter in their take-out bag while we kissed, gradually shedding our clothes and ending up on the leather couch in the living room for an energetic half hour of sex.
Afterwards, we ate and talked, still naked on the couch, content if a little chilly. He showed me the pieces of furniture he'd brought into the house since the last time I'd been there. He was excited to be hosting Thanksgiving for the first time, and proudly showed me the table he thought he could easily get all ten adults around, with enough space to the side for a kid's table. Maybe he'd been planning it all along, but I think it was a spontaneous decision to lift me up onto the clean wooden tabletop and kiss me. He was a foot taller than me, but with me sitting on the edge of the table, it was easy for him to press his cock inside me.
I groaned when he pulled out, but I could see he'd been close to coming and wasn't ready. He was soon inside me again, though, with two thick fingers, and I moaned in anticipation of what he was about to do.
"Mmm yess," I hissed.
He snaked one arm around my hip, and with the fingers of that hand he spread the lips of my pussy and bent to bring his mouth to my open sex.
I lifted my head from the table's surface and watched him, thrilled. He manipulated my labia until my clit was standing out and framed between his spread fingers. He raised his eyes before his tongue made contact and I heard myself whimper as a shiver passed through me.
At the same time his tongue met my clit, the fingers he held inside me began to move. In, and out, in a slow, deliberate manner. Filling me up and then bending inside me as he drew them out again, arousing me in ways regular penetration couldn't achieve. It was my favorite sexual act, if I had to pick just one, and Nico had become a master at bringing me to shattering orgasms this way.
Even though his fingers inside me moved slowly, and his tongue was making light, lazy passes over my clit, I could feel the tension inside me building quickly. It was incredible how well he knew my body, how efficiently he could bring me off, if efficiency was his intention, which, thank God, it rarely was.
