8. A Little Goes a Long Way （Melissa） #2
“Why is there such a deep pool in the basement?”
“Because there’s a secret duct on the fifth floor from which you can deep dive into the pool.
It’s for me. I asked them if they could make something so crazy, and they obliged, exceeding my expectations,” Ryan said.
“I used to dive back in college. I still do. Maybe next time I’ll show you the secret way to the diving room. ”
“I kinda like it here right now. The rain, the garden, and the koi pond, they’re doing it for me. If I weren’t so wet, I’d enjoy it more.”
“My bad,” Ryan muttered, sitting there by the fire, hugging his body.
“No one else can come to the roof?”
“Not at all.”
Maybe because I was drunk, or maybe because Ryan had already done so, I took off my shirt and hung it next to Ryan’s shirt, both of us sitting there side by side under the gazebo, him in his vest, me in my bra.
“Don’t stare,” I said.
“I promise I won’t.”
“Part of me thinks that this was your plan all along,” I said.
“Uh, my plan was for us to get high, which we’re going to do now,” Ryan said, magically producing a spliff from thin air, and lighting it up. “No less, no more. I wanna feel the fairy kisses.”
“And I wanna get an acupuncture from the man upstairs.”
We sat there sharing the joint, puffing and passing silently as we contemplated and stared at the rain pitter-pattering on the rooftop, washing all of New York City in a wet frenzy.
“Listen,” Ryan said slowly. The spliff had been burnt out, its butt lying in the flames of the firepit. I lifted my hand and discovered that it was moving so slowly. It must be some strong weed that I’d already gotten this high this soon.
“How…long…have…we…been…sitting…here?” I asked, slurring all of my words.
“Half…an…hour.”
“Jesus…Christ…”
“Listen,” Ryan said again, putting his hand on my bare shoulder. “I….really…am…sorry…about…everything….About….that…day…and…your…father…”
“It…is…okay, Ryan….People…change…people…grow…people…I have said…people…too…many…times.”
“I actually…. like…you…Melissa,” Ryan said, his hand no longer on my shoulder but on my cheek. It felt like someone had put a big beef steak against my face. Strangely, though, it felt good. I closed my eyes.
“I…don’t…think…you…are…totally…horrible…either,” I confessed.
When I opened my eyes, it was to the sensation of Ryan’s lips resting on my lips. I did not want him to stop. I put my arm around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely. Atop me, he was no longer wearing his vest. I was no longer wearing my bra, either.
It was just the two of us, lying in each other’s arms under the gazebo as it rained all around us.
Just the two of us, struggling to take off our pants while we were both drunk and high at the same time, a surreal combo of inebriated states that left us feeling like we were floating on a cloud and were the cloud at the same time.
I could hear his thoughts without him speaking. I could sense what he was saying through his humdrum heartbeat beating on my skin as he pressed his body against me, kissed me tenderly, and plucked my tongue into his mouth.
The fire had warmed and dried us both. We lay beside the roaring flames, hands on each other’s bodies, exploring what we had already explored.
I slowly wrapped my fingers around his hard cock, and felt it throb vibrantly in my grip.
I stroked it, feeling his precum cover my palm, moistening my grip, making it easier to stroke and slide my hand up and down.
He moaned freely, loudly. No one was here to hear us.
Whatever sound came from both of us was muffled by the sound of the flames and the rain falling all around us.
I wanted to touch his balls. I needed to feel how they’d feel in my hand.
The sensation was a bizarre one, but nothing that I didn’t enjoy.
Soft, squishy, and warm, it felt like I was holding a handful of roasted marshmallows.
Ryan moaned as I put his balls in a light vice and tugged at them.
I was distinctly aware of a new wetness between my thighs that had nothing to do with the rain and the weather.
I eased myself on top of his body, my high-drunk mind shocked at the fact that the same man I damn near wanted to kill for the past two weeks was lying under me with his cock rock hard and his balls in my grip.
I liked him underneath me, his body unmoving. His face was transfixed as he stared at my nude body, his arms too heavy for him to move and his peripheral senses dialed all the way down.
It took a bit of effort, finding his cock, then sliding it in me; but once it was inside, it was well worth the high hassle.
I had never had sex while high before, so this was completely uncharted territory.
I felt all the good parts I’d felt before, but this time around, they were all cranked up to a hundred.
I could feel every crevice of his cock sliding against the walls of my vagina.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost see it going in, thrusting, penetrating deeper and deeper.
The pleasure was not like any I had ever experienced before.
It was like warm liquid pleasure that stuck around for a lot longer.
It felt like my pussy was the coast and the pleasure was a huge wave that kept splashing against it.
Ryan’s hands were on my tits now, squeezing a little harder than usual.
I chalked it up to a good feeling, because right now, on the brink of a very quick orgasm, I felt like a big shimmering ball of pleasure.
My body had turned into one huge erogenous zone, taking pleasure from different stimuli: the thrusting of his cock inside me, the warmth coming from the fire, the cool air blowing all around me, and the gentle sound of the rain dropping on the gazebo’s wooden roof.
It was everything that I needed right now. Just about enough to make me forget everything.