Chapter 14 #2
Driving my frenzied hips into her backside, I buried my face in the crook of her neck and lost myself in the moment. She felt so fuckin’ good, and I loved how this position always gave me access to all of her body.
“Come for me, baby. Fuck this pussy hard and come for me,” she pleaded, and I was afraid that was all it took for me to pound away until my climax sent me reeling. Hard, I emptied inside of her, her walls feeling like an ocean with no end.
It was comforting, and warm and a miracle I had lasted as long as I had.
Running her fingers through my hair, she turned to face me in what became the softest of kisses that felt strangely placed after a session that savage.
But that was just it, it wasn't about pleasure alone.
I wanted those soft and wholesome moments too. It made me feel cared for.
Between a tumble of turning her over on her back, our lips melted like a marriage of melting wax. It was hard as hell to put my clothes back on after being inside her. It was basically torture slipping my leg through each pant leg.
“You sure it was okay to come inside you?”
“If it hadn't been, I wouldn't have given you permission. The right condoms make a big difference, and I didn't want you to feel like this was a waste of your time.”
“It's never a waste of time to spend time with you,” I beamed. “I know I would have climaxed eventually. I just should have paid better attention to what I was buying.” She asked to see the ones I grabbed, offering a suggestion.
“Try to look for ones that are non-latex. Words like skin on skin or barely there. And the right fit is pretty detrimental to whether you feel increased sensation or not.”
“Thanks for the tip. Not gonna lie, it's fucking awesome when you talk me through it, though,” I gushed.
“Good to know you like feedback.”
“Only shitty thing is, don't ask me to come if you don't want me to come. I'll be dressing your walls if you do,” I joked.
“Think you'll be busy Thursday? I wanted us to do something together.”
“If by do something together, you mean ending like this, count me in,” I insisted.
“It's just something I've been considering. Especially after tonight, more than ever. But it'll be out. Are you okay with keeping plans?”
“Erm, come to think of it, I do have a long day of classes the night after, but if you slept over, it'd be easier for me. Just so I don't have to make the trip from this round of way, to school.”
“You're okay with me sleeping over your place?”
“Why wouldn't I be?” I wondered.
“I don't make much time for sleepovers, but maybe I can make an exception.” Slowly crying inside when she put her shirt and panties back on.
“It'll come with bed and breakfast. Central air conditioning. And I’m sure I can fit in some relaxing morning head. But I can't make any promises,” I winked.
“I guess I can be in a foreign place,” she sarcastically rolled her eyes.
“It's just for this week. If I didn't have such an important project coming up, I'd totally make the trip here.”
“Graham, I'm only joking. Don’t take me so seriously all the time,” she laughed.
“Girl, I'm autistic. I take everything seriously.”
“Okay, we'll meet up around six-ish? Would that be too early for you?”
“Nah, I’ll try to be out of there by four, since my last class is out at 3:30.
I usually stay long sometimes when we’re working on some collaborations but I just won’t stay over this time.
I'll be wherever you want me to be. However you want me to be. Whatever you want me to be,” I flirted, leaning in for another kiss.
“You're so cute.”
“I'm cuter when my face is between your legs,” I teased.
“I mean, I gotta keep my youth somehow. I can only no longer bathe in the blood of a virgin.”
“An Elizabeth Báthony joke. Very funny,” I rolled my eyes. “Haven’t heard that one before. So glad you can't throw that in my face anymore.”
“Baby, I'm not making fun of you. You're just…leaning in and taking more initiative. I like seeing your confidence growing.”
“I figure if I'm going to be fucking, the least I could do is be good at it. Sucking at sex seems like it'd be worse than being a virgin,” I admitted.
“You'd be surprised how many seasoned people suck at sex. You, on the other hand, are in a step in the right direction.”
***
Honestly with how draining this doctoral program could be, whatever Jaq had in mind, I could use the break away.
I didn't struggle much in composition lessons, and even the grueling seminars weren’t so bad.
It was just the constant creative output, balancing art and academic rigor and having to shift gears at the drop of a hat.
I had definitely had an advantage since I also recorded at home, but directing performers and working in groups was often exhausting.
In the end, I knew it’d be worth it, but I could really use an off button.
Hopefully Jaq’s plans would help with that. She didn't give me much details, which in a normal situation would drive me off the wall. But I jumped at any time we could hang out outside of her flat. I loved the benefits but the friends part was what made the sex amazing.
Growing up with just sisters, I was used to being around mostly women, and while I wasn't the type to dismiss my male friendships, it felt like you explored more interests or hobbies in the company of women.
When I was a few minutes away, Jaq wondered if I was close, signaling through text that she hoped I was still interested. That moment of negative thinking melted away when she saw me approaching.
“Look at you, gorgeous. You look really nice,” I complimented, admiring her natural curly hairstyle that she rarely wore out, paired by her cross between preppy and alt. She looked so huggable, as I reached my arms around her, realizing that this was my happy place.
“So, think you're ready to try a workshop or two?” My face soured.
“That sounds like uni. I just got out of school, Jaq,” I laughed.
“Well, I've been considering this for a while, only I didn't know I’d be doing it with company. Last time we hooked up, you said and did some things worth exploring. Take in mind, you're allowed to pick and choose what you do or don't retain.”
“Why does it feel like I'm walking into a dark alley blind?” I joked
“No, no, no. I should have been more direct. I’m taking you to a Kink 101 workshop, more if you're open to it. It's a small little office suite with a bunch of things going on. I figured if anything resonated with you, we could explore it more. I mean, while we're here—”
“Yeah, we're already here,” I joined in.
“I was a little nervous that it'd be a lot so early on,” she admitted.
“I told you I was open to anything when it came to our arrangement. I can't say that I'm a whips and chains kind of guy, but whatever guy I am, I'm open to knowing.”
“Perfect,” she said, as she leaned up to press a light kiss to my lips, trying to limit the transfer of her dark red lipstick. We took an elevator to the office suite, and upon entering, there was a slight community center style set up, an entire floor dedicated to different workshops galore.
Jaq and I found a two-seater table that already had worksheets and role testing to discover how tame or extreme your kinks were.
Strangely, I was learning my upbringing was essentially a lifetime of developing an orgasm denial kink, but even kink itself wasn't inherently sexual.
It would be blasphemous to compare it to any kind of practicing religion, but it was a lifestyle built on roles, rules, and responsibilities that made it easier to understand when I drew parallels between them.
It just didn't help pinpoint where I would fall on that scale.
Jaq wanted to know where I would lean, to cater to what I might thrive in.
Not to disappoint her, but answering a BDSM assessment, I didn't traditionally lean more towards either role.
Through games, group Q & A, and demonstrations, there'd been things I wanted to explore and I'm sure tonight had been about learning a definite answer.
The time hadn't been a total waste, as we walked away with toys, pamphlets, and a whole bunch of free samples I doubt would last the night. When we finally reached my place, the conversation surrounding it took a recess, as considering we’d always met at Jaq’s, she was somehow amazed with how I’d set up my flat.
It wasn’t hard to see how much of a music fan I was after getting a glimpse of my place.
Between my collection of vintage guitars on the walls, my drum set, my keyboard in the corner and all my recording equipment, I think she thought I was joking when I said I loved music.
“Wow, I am in awe! Your place is soooo nice. Why the hell do we go over my house all the time? Look how clean it is in here!”
“Are you only saying that because I'm a guy?”
“Not only that. But you have to admit, living in New York, while I love it, is fuckin’ expensive. How the hell with you being a student, can you afford all this?”
“I guess my parents do okay. Plus, my program offered me a stipend to study so I'm not exactly struggling for money,” I downplayed.
“But don't get too excited. It's a musician’s dream, but a next-door neighbor's worst nightmare. Thankfully, the landlord let me soundproof the home studio I set up for my stay here.”
“You have soooo many guitars,” she said looking around in wonder.
“To be fair, some of these are basses. That’s a ukulele. And this one’s a violin. That one’s a cello,” I said, pointing out the corrections.