Page 57 of Here You Are

He pushes me back down on the bed and grabs my hips to scoot me back so he can climb between my legs. His hands and mouth continue the exploration of my body as I start to work on the buttons of his shirt and push it off. He is still wearing his t-shirt and jeans. Our nakedness is quite disproportionate since I am down to underwear.

“I want to see you, too,” I say as I reach to untuck his shirt and help him pull it up over his head.

“I’m not as pretty to look at,” he replies, standing in front of me shirtless, with just his jeans and belt remaining. I sit up to unbuckle his belt, unbutton his jeans, and start to push them down. He pauses to take his jeans and socks off, tripping a little bit, which makes me giggle.

He smirks in my direction, just wearing his boxer briefs and a smile. I reach up and run my hands down his chest, down his stomach, and down the front of his brief, rubbing the bulge that is appearing. “You look good to me,” I reply, letting my eyes move from his face down his chest, to my hand rubbing up and down his package, back up to his eyes.

He grabs my hand to stop me. “You first.” He pushes me back down on the bed and crawls between my legs. His hands start working up and down my body, touching and kissing me everywhere except where I want him to.

He works his way up to kissing my neck and whispers in my ear, “Tell me what you want. My hands or my mouth? I need to know what works for you because I'll never, ever repeat that first performance. Hands or mouth?”

“I’m good with whatever,” I say, trying to embrace this openness in the bedroom, but it’s awkward at first. Starting over with someone new, explaining to them how your body works. It would be cool if it were like in the movies and books where everyone gets off from intercourse, orgasms happen simultaneously, and medications don’t dull sensations.

“Nope. Tell me what you want.”

“Uh, just hands are good for now.”

He sits back on his legs and runs his hands down to my hips. He grabs the sides of my underwear and slides them down my legs. He stays sitting back on his legs, and I watch him look me up and down, an appreciative look on his face.

“Damn,” he groans, hovering back over me. “you're not allowed to touch me until I'm done with you. I'm so turned on by you.”

Continuing to kiss me everywhere, his hand makes its way between my legs. He starts with grazing, teasing touches, mostly avoiding the areas where I want him, yet giving me little tastes. This is what I need to get there with a guy. Slow, teasing touches. It never works for me when it is rushed.

He starts to do some great work with his hands, and I internally sigh with relief, because I know I am going to get there. Letting go of that stress allows me to feel in the moment, and I am getting close.

He continues to massage me in small circles while kissing all over my body. He asks, “Do you need me to go slower or faster?”

I let out a little gasp and say, “Just what you are doing. Keep going.”

And he does. He doesn’t get excited, go faster, or add more pressure; he just keeps doing what he is doing.

“I’m close, go a little faster.”

And he does. Seconds later, I am clawing my hands down his back, panting his name, legs shaking, eyes rolled back into my skull. A simple hand job really hits different from a man you like doing it with.

I open my eyes and see him smiling down at me. “Hot, Cassie. That was so hot.” He leans down to give me a long, scorching hot kiss.

“Can I touch you now?” I ask, my heart rate and breathing finally slowing.

“God, yes, please.”

I pushed him back on the bed, with a plan to repay the favor in the same way he did for me. I grabbed his briefs and pulled them down off his legs.

I made my way back up his body and grabbed a hold of him to start stroking. It wasn’t long before he was breathing hard and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. I couldn’t help myself and leaned down to give him a few licks and sucks while I was at it.

“Shit. Back up, I’m going to come.”

I stroked him through his orgasm as he came, all over his belly. I rolled back to my side of the bed, and handed him a couple of tissues from my nightstand. We laid there together, satisfied and quiet.

He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I know we only reached second base tonight, but I hope that I redeemed myself. I'm serious about never repeating the first performance.”

“You really, really did. Thanks for asking me what I like and acting accordingly. It really helps, especially when I'm nervous being with someone new.”

“I can understand how being with someone with a hairy dad bod can be very intimidating,” he jokes. And he does have a hairy dad bod. I’m starting to realize I kind of like it.

“Be nice to yourself. Look at us,” I say, gesturing to our naked bodies lying in bed together. “I clearly have the hots for you.”

“I haven’t figured out why yet, but believe me when I say I'm grateful and totally comfortable with being the recipient of people thinking ‘how did that guy get with her’?”