Chapter 12 #3
I grin. "That's a damn good thing to hear."
Her eyes go back to my dick, still wide, still full of too many emotions to track or name. I hold absolutely still, hands behind my head again; I can't touch her. Can't make this about me. No leading, no hinting. My role is to let her explore, nothing more.
Fuck, this is gonna be difficult.
Cadence extends a hand toward me, reaching, reaching…and then withdrawing. Gnawing on her lower lip, she glances at me. "I…oh my. Oh my."
I gently grasp her hand and place it on my stomach. "It's okay, Cadence. Take your time. Whatever you want is okay."
"But are you not…" she searches me, and then her gaze drifts back to my aching dick. “Is it uncomfortable? Or…perhaps the better question is how does it feel?"
"Like being turned on," I answer.
"Riley," she murmurs, gently scolding. "You prevaricate."
"Dunno what that means."
"Lying or avoiding the truth."
"Oh." I sigh. "Fine. I am, a bit, I guess.” I shrug, thinking.
"It's not…uncomfortable, exactly. Feels like…gah, it’s hard to explain.
Like…sort of an ache, I suppose. Not pain, just…
tension? Nah, that's not right either. Um…
I'm turned on. Aroused. Getting to see you naked makes me hard.
Getting to touch you makes me even harder.
Getting to taste your sweet little pussy?
Fuck, woman. The way you look, the way you feel, the way you sound when you're coming? Sinfully fucking sexy. Hot as fuck."
She's red as a tomato. "Riley, you make me sound…" she trails off.
"Like the sexiest woman I've ever met?" I fill in. "Cuz you are. Not even a contest."
She tilts her head. "Have you known many women? To a degree that you can make such a comparison?" She bites her lip. "Intimately, I mean. Naked…um, women."
I lever up, cup her nape, and kiss her. Whisper against her lips. "Not thinking about anyone else, Cadence. There's only you."
“Oh—okay." She whispers even more quietly then. "I want to, but I am scared."
“Scared of what? Tell me what you're afraid of."
"I…I am not sure. It is…a generalized anxiety rather than true fear. Anticipation, perhaps, is the best word. Nervous. I never, ever, ever imagined I could have this, and certainly not with a man like you."
I frown at her. "Man like me?"
Her smile is soft, tender. "Yes, Riley. A man like you.
Charming. Cool. Interesting. Rugged. Masculine.
Handsome." A blush. "Hot." This is whispered.
"Other girls, normal, neurotypical girls dream and fantasize about their first foray into sexual intimacy being with a man like you, Riley.
I never dared. Such things are not for me, I have always felt. "
"Breaks my goddamn heart to hear you say that, honey." I kiss her again, as gently as I possibly can. “That shit just ain't true. It's fuckin' bullshit. Fuck normal, and fuck everyone else. This is about you and me, okay? Just you and me. Here. Now."
Her eyes water. "I like that. Fuh—gah. I cannot say it."
"Sure, you can." I grin at her, tug on her lower lip with my thumb. "Try it. Fuck normal and fuck everyone else."
She shakes her head. "It is very difficult to break a lifelong habit."
"But you can do it. Just you and me here, sweetheart. No one to judge. Fuck normal. Right?"
“F-f-f…” A hiss of frustration. "Fuck normal!" It comes out loud and forceful, shocking even her. "Fuck normal!" She giggles, clapping her hands over her mouth. "That felt good. Fuck normal!"
"Fuck normal!" I laugh with her. "Fuck normal. Fuck normies. Fuck anyone who's ever made you feel anything less than the magical fucking goddess you are."
I lean into her and take her to her back and kiss her, and soon we're lost in the kiss and her tongue seeks mine and her breast is soft and heavy in my hand and her nipple is hard under my thumb.
She whimpers, gasps, and then lifts up to crush her mouth against mine and thrusts her tongue into my mouth—the woman kisses with a ferocity and hunger unlike anything I've ever felt.
My cock throbs, and, despite my assurance earlier, it is uncomfortable.
Painful, even. I growl as I kiss her, pawing her tit and tweaking her nipple until she's gasping and panting, and then I slide my hand to her belly, wanting that gasp of hers, that moan, that whimper, the way she arches when she comes—
She rips away from the kiss and pushes me, as roughly as she's ever done anything, away.
“No, no, no!” She leans over me, tits draped and swaying against my chest, hair a wild, sunlit-copper cloud of pale golden-red curls.
Her mossy eyes are huge and, frankly, horny.
So fucking turned on. Her cheeks are pink and flushed, and she's panting softly.
"I think if I let you, all we would do is you… um…giving me…ahhhh…orgasms."
"True. Would that be so bad?"
She giggles, and how the fuck can a giggle be cute yet wickedly arousing at the same time? "No, it would not. For me, at least. But I have other desires than for orgasms."
"Y'do, huh?" I murmur. "Sorry. I'll be a good boy."
She sits up again, this time with her feet tucked sideways against her butt, weight braced on her left hand, angled toward my feet.
Gazing at me for a moment, she gnaws on her lower lip again, worrying it, eyes wide, brows furrowed—that expression on her face is fucking intoxicating: the arousal and the shyness mingling into unconscious coyness, tantalizing innocence at war with naughty need.
Her hand rests on my belly. She traces the outlines of my abs, starting at the top and snaking back and forth on the way down, following the grooves until she reaches my V-cut.
I know it's a function of genetics I have no control over, plus hard work and careful nutrition, so it’s only partly due to my own efforts, but I can't help feeling a little proud of those grooves.
Especially when her expression becomes openly aroused, flicking to mine with a wide, pleased, heated grin.
"I am rather inordinately aroused by these iliac furrows," she says, tracing her finger down the groove, stopping just short of my junk.
"Is that what they're called?"
"What do you call them?"
I shrug. "V-cut."
She wrinkles her nose. "No. Iliac furrows."
She traces her finger down the other one, daring a little closer to my cock, this time. Which, at the proximity of her hand, twitches in anticipation. Cadence jumps.
“Oh! It…it moved!" She blushes. "Intellectually, I am aware that you have a degree of muscular control over it. It just…took me by surprise."
I grin, shake my head. "Don't need to explain anything to me, honey."
She licks her lips, looks at my face. "I am sorry to be so…so…"
“Nope,” I growl. "None of that. No apologizing. Told you, honey. Take all the time in the world. Not in a rush. Nowhere to go. This is all about you. What you want."
“Okay," she huffs. “Okay. I want to touch you, I just…" she shakes her head. "It hardly seems real."
"Think about what you want to do," I tell her. "Picture it. See yourself doing it…and then do it."
"Visualization and manifestation," she murmurs. “Yes. An excellent suggestion, Riley. Thank you."
She closes her eyes for a moment or two, and her breathing slows, and the tension on her face fades.
Her eyes snap open and she fixes her gaze on my cock.
Bites her lip—I want to kiss her so damn bad, but I don't dare move.
I'm barely breathing. She inhales deeply, holds her breath, extends her hand toward me…
She trails the pad of her index finger down the length of my cock from tip to root, excruciatingly slowly. I hiss an inhale, and she jerks her hand away. "Did I hurt you?"
I laugh. “No, no. Sorry. Just the opposite. You’re touchin' me, Cadence. I’m just trying to hold still and let you do what you want."
"If you gave into your desires and urges, what would you do?"
"Something you ain't ready for."
"Oh."
I take her hand and guide it back to my thigh. "It's okay. I won't do anything. You're not gonna hurt me. You touching me, in any way at all, is gonna feel fuckin' amazing."
"You promise?"
"Cross my heart," I murmur. "Did it feel good when I touched you?"
"My goodness, yes. So good."
"Then try again. Don’t be shy."
She grins at me. "Yes. I shall try again."
She repeats her previous action, trailing one finger down my length—I hiss and jerk again. This time, while she is startled, she jolts and giggles, but doesn't remove her hand. She presses the pad of her finger to the very tip. Looks at her finger—at the smear of wetness. Looks at me, curious.
"Precum," I explain.
"Ah. Of course." This is a quiet murmur, absent-minded, focused on me once more.
She circles my cock with forefinger and thumb, just beneath my glans, then wraps the rest of her fingers around my girth—her grip is exquisitely gentle, barely making contact. And then she squeezes, just a little. I jerk involuntarily, and she glances at me, concerned. I smile reassuringly.
She slides her hand down my length, and fucking hell, she takes a long, long time to do so, and my whole body tenses at the wonder of her touch.
I fight the urge to push into her touch.
She reaches the base of my cock, pauses, looks at me, opens her mouth as if to say something, and then thinks better of it.
"Go ahead," I murmur. "Ask anything. Say anything.”
"Will I hurt you if I touch your…ummm…testicles?"
"No, sweetheart. They are sensitive, but as long as you don't, like, try to twist 'em off or squeeze 'em like a stress ball, you're good. It feels almost as good as it does when you touch my cock."
“Your…" she grins shyly at me, “cock.” She whispers it, and then giggles, blushing.
Ah, Jesus, dirty talk outta her sweet innocent mouth? Fuck me, I'm done.
Eyes wide and following the path of her hand, she glides her touch down my length again, just as slowly as before, and this time when she reaches my base, she slips her hand down to cup my balls.
And fuck, fuck, fuck, that feels like heaven.
Her hands are so small, so soft, so clever, and so warm. So gentle.
She toys with me and caresses my balls for a moment and then strokes my length again, once more sliding her hand all the way from tip to root to balls, cupping them and caressing them so tenderly and affectionately it…
god, how do I even feel? Sexually on edge, obviously, but…
awed. Full of wonder. Amazed. My heart feels hot and full.
Never been touched the way she touches me. The emotion she puts into it…
This isn’t just a hookup for her. Not just sex. Not fooling around. This is, possibly, one of the most important moments of her life. It’s not about me, but…fuck, I don't know.
I'm just trying not to blow my load like a teenager.
She bites her lip and looks at me, hard, searching, nervous. "Will you teach me how to give you an orgasm?"
I look back at her, torn. "You don't need to. It's okay.
"I want to. Please?"
I laugh. “Then just keep doing what you're doing."
"Riley." It's a scold.
I reach up and cup her cheek. “No, really. Just…hold onto it like you were and rub it up and down, just like you were doing."
"That…is that what will make it feel best?"
"Anything you do will be amazing."
"I suppose, but…" She leans the other way, stretching her legs out and resting her cheek on my sternum, near my belly, and grasps my cock around the head. "I want to not just give you an orgasm. I want to…oh my, I am struggling with saying what I really intend."
"Cadence—"
"I want to make you feel such pleasure that you…you remember me…always. I want to give you such intense pleasure as you have never known. I want to return to you even a tiny portion of the joy you have given me, Riley. So please. You know what I am asking."
"Being with you at all is that, Cadence," I say and speak over her protest. "But I know what you mean.
So…don't be in a hurry. That's the first thing.
For both men and women, a quick orgasm is a good thing, but a truly great orgasm takes a while to build up.
So it's not just like this…” I mime jerking off hard and fast. "Harder and faster isn't better.
So when I said do exactly what you were doing, I meant it.
Just touch me. Play with me. Explore. Try things.
It will all feel fucking incredible. I promise, you'll give me an orgasm I’ll never, ever forget.
" I brush her lips. "Mainly because it's you giving it to me. "