1 comments/ 8114 views/ 1 favorites So I Wait By: ribbonsnlace She waits. Wants to wait for him. He is in her now, under her skin, in her bloodstream, the captor of her heart and soul. The true reason she lives and breathes. She feels momentary guilt that her life is focused on her love for him, others just there to take care of, nurture, surround her with their presence. They are merely the daily realities of her life the string that connects her true realities together. I love them all she thinks, but i live for him. He is in her, not just beside her, and the life that she has chosen. So she waits. Everything she does is for him. She realizes that and does not dwell on it anymore. Her happiest moments are in some way connected to him. Even when he is not with her, her thoughts are of him and what he would want of her or for her. This makes her happy and content in her life. Gives her the direction she needs, the strong hand she needs. Always feeling different and disconnected, now her mind is focused, soul is content, her heart sings and her body is satisfied. She sits contemplating these things as the razor slides slowly up her leg, gathering the foam. She watches closely, making sure that her skin is smooth, for him. Her daily ritual, traveling farther, tickling the inside of her knee, her thigh. Her mind wanders, feels the heat of his fingers there, the feel of his hands on her smooth skin. She giggles, is this more for him, or for me? Her fingers follow the trail of disappearing foam, feeling the smoothness, lost in the sensation. Taking more of the thick foam in her hand, she smoothes it over her mound. Switching position and raising her knee higher for access, starts to slowly, so slowly, run the razor over herself, gently over her lips and the sensitive skin there. Watching the foam part and revealing the soft skin beneath. Sending shivers through her she watches and feels his breath there, feels his tongue gently run up and between her lips. Fingers wandering she can't help but touch and explore, thinking of him and anticipation building. Working over her clit and around, smoothing the skin, running one finger over her clit and under. Should i wait? Intense feeling building, that warm, heavy, full feeling running through her pussy. My pussy, his pussy. A word i would never have used before him. A part of my body that had needs and wants that i could never admit to. Ashamed of. Now so open and wanting and needy. A sweet pussy when asleep and in wait. Then becoming with his hands, those wonderful hands, so very awake and needy. Turning from purring kitten into a spitting, screaming wildcat, a cunt. Only you can take care of me, of her then. Only you can satisfy the needs that run through me and consume me. Suds run from her loofa down her arm and she slowly starts to lather her body. Running the bubbles around her neck, down her shoulders, down her arms. Enjoying the feeling of the scratchy loofa, warm water and soap. Mind wandering through the sensations. Something new, always feeling, not just rushing through life anymore. Something wonderful he has taught her. Acceptance of herself and her needs. Lovely thought she keeps coming back to. In the past, could never ask for things, never accept that she had needs, always pushed them to the side. Lovely to enjoy life and not feel guilty. Acceptance by him of her needs. What freedom there is in that. No need to fear, or hide. Just the knowledge that she could sink into her feelings and the utter trust she has in his control and care and love of her. Sensations from the water and bubbles float down her body, over and past her breasts, like his fingers gliding over her nipples and down to her already aroused clit. Washing over and teasing. She looks at her nipples and watches, feels them hardening, feeling the tightness. She takes her nipples with her fingers and gently squeezes, shooting sensations through her, catching her breath. Fingers pressing harder and the tugging sensation turns sharper, nerves on edge and sending waves of sensation to her pussy. She can feel the wetness release downward in her pelvis, can feel it gathering behind the lips of her pussy. Twisting and pressing her fingers together even tighter, she can feel a release of more fluids and her pussy opens, trickling the wetness over her lips and down her thighs. Pain. Such a wonderful prelude to pleasure. Something else he knows so well, and knows about her. It is not only the pain, it is also the control that she knows she needs and wants. Running her hands with flat palms over her stomach, over her hips and back to cup her buttocks. So wet and soft. She loves his hands on her ass. Loves the feelings that go through her when he bites, licks and kisses her there. She loves when he is gentle and erotic but she also loves when he is hard and demanding. It is what she needs and he knows it. The feelings she receives from him when his hands, or whips caress her. So funny, even when he is hard and demanding, he is always gentle. Every touch is in itself an entire experience to savor. She waits for his hand or whip to strike. It is all felt in slow motion. The contact, the feeling she gets of his control just flowing through her, then the instant of pain, and the immediate warmth and tingling sensation that shoots right into her pussy. The first couple times she is very aware of everything, every sound, and then her focus changes. Then it is just feeling and the incredible need for more and then the need for him to touch her, to be inside her. But she knows she must wait. Fingers traveling between and down the crack of her ass. The water makes it so easy and smooth to travel. Other hand moving to her belly and slowly down running fingers between her lips and fingers meeting. Feelings becoming more intense, more need. She plunges two fingers inside her, has to have something inside her. Her need for him building, her thoughts of him becoming more intense. A flash of his eyes in her mind and she is moaning, her fingers twisting, trying so hard to touch where he touches, to feel the same. But it is never the same. Her thumb reaches and rubs on her clit, small circles, pressing soft and then pushing, very hard down trying to meet the fingers that are inside her. She leans against the shower door, breasts pressed to the cold glass, more sensations. Fingers twisting and moving and she can feel her orgasm building inside her, feel the tightness, the wetness from the water and her own juices flowing down her fingers. She hears his voice tell her that she is his whore, his slut, his bitch, his love. Her pussy lunges forward against her fingers, moans of pleasure fill the air and her need has overwhelmed her. She thinks, soon, soon it will be his hands, his fingers, his mouth, his tongue that will give me more pleasure than i could ever feel at this moment. She stops and pulls her fingers from the warm, soft wetness, her pussy walls grabbing for them. He is her heart, he owns her mind, body and soul. He has asked this of her so she will wait. So I Was At One of Those Parties So I was at one of those parties—you know, the ones where you feel completely awkward with yourself. And your limbs don't cooperate; and the only safe places to stand are the tackily-decorated walls surrounding the dance floor. It was darker than I was completely comfortable with, but I was also relieved. Few eyes would be looking in my direction, and that's just the way I liked it. Most of the other girls were shimmying away next to the DJ wearing skimpy, flashy outfits that practically screamed "fuck me now" to the rest of the general populace. Their hairdos were all straight, shiny mops, and most of them had more makeup than face. The boys, on the other hand, were swamped in clothing. There were hoodies and sweaters, fingerless gloves, hats, slacks, and quite a lot of underwear. I'd never really understood the appeal of the gangsta-wannabe look. I stared at one guy who passed my way, whose arms and shoulders were bare. Musculature like a gorilla. I rolled my eyes with contempt, and immediately regretted it when I accidentally caught sight of a couple grinding to my right. The girl was wiggling her bottom into his lap, and the boy was being a little overenthusiastic. I winced. Put that away, I thought, looking anywhere else. Nobody wants to see that. Of course, looking around I felt like even more of an idiot. What was I thinking, coming here in slacks and a t-shirt? No makeup (not that I ever wore any), legs not even shaved... Heck, did I even have a bra on? I checked. Thank god for small miracles. Really, I've never been fashion-conscious, but there's just something about being at a dance with beautiful people that makes you think crap about yourself. I went over to where the punch was, and was immediately suspicious. What were the chances that it wasn't spiked? Still, I figured the cookies were probably safe. I took three. The music was deafening; the lyrics appalling. Once again I wondered why I'd even showed up. It wasn't like I had any delusions of actually enjoying myself. I had stopped attending the high school dances freshman year. They were usually loud, tasteless, and for the most part pointless events filled with gyrating nymphomaniacs. Looking around, it was clear that tonight wasn't going to be any different. Munching away on a stale Oreo and staring off into space with a sour expression, I was not even slightly prepared for the vision that appeared before me. A shoe. An ankle, a leg. A... hip. And what a beautiful hip it was. Draped in dark brown cotton and deliciously curved. A waist. My hand, which had a life of its own, began to jerk in sympathy. My head felt dizzy, and my gaze couldn't help but drift upwards. A chest... Somebody cleared their throat, and I froze. My gaze shot upward, meeting a quizzical pair of eyes traced with perfect amounts of eyeliner. I held my breath, and for a moment seriously considered running for it. The girl, meanwhile, was giving me a weird look. "Are... you okay?" I tried to speak, but pulled a blank. The girl's face looked terribly familiar. Stacey... Tracy...? "Casey! Um, sorry about that, I, er. Sorry. I'm not feeling myself." Her expression morphed into an appraising one. Her eyes drifted over me, and I gulped. "I'm not crazy, I swear." She snorted at that, and I huffed with relief. Turning around quickly, I grabbed another cookie in a vain attempt to save face. But when I finally calmed down enough and turned back to speak again, Casey had already ambled over to a man/gorilla by the name of Adam Cunningham and was smiling. My heart pittered and skidded and crash landed. An odd sense of disappointment was making my lungs heavy. Disturbed, I made my way back to my hiding place by the wall and told myself to stop being such a freak. Molly. Stop being such a freak. Obviously, it didn't work. My eyes were drawn once more, as if compelled, to the lovely Miss Casey Stevens. How had I never noticed how... stunning she was? I was staring again, but she was far enough away that I didn't care. All that mattered was her, and her hand, and its firm, squeezing grip on Adam's arm. I did a double take. I did not like the way he was staring at her. Lustfully. His too-large hands were at her neck and shoulder. I couldn't see Casey's expression from where I was, but she didn't exactly seem intimidated by his advances. I frowned, and something hot and unexpected flared up in my throat. I wanted to run back over there and gouge bloody tracks in that face, which grinned down at her so wickedly. And kick his shin. And then possibly pour the entire bowl of punch over his head. I glanced toward the table in the corner, then back at him. It was a real possibility. Without thinking about it, and without really understanding why I was doing it, I began to make my way over to where Adam was, with a thousand scathing remarks waiting just on the tip of my tongue. But the closer I got, the more my courage failed, and eventually I stopped about ten feet away. Adam saw me, but Casey didn't. Strangely enough, my proximity seemed to deflate him somewhat: his shoulders bowed a bit and his hand darted away. A creature in my chest growled its satisfaction, but before those thoughts could get very far my brain halted them. What the hell was my issue? Why was I getting so... emotional about something so normal? So what if he wanted her and showed it? What did I care? Casey and Adam showed a familiarity with each other that suggested they might have been dating for sometime. I barely knew either of them, so it was hardly an impossibility. So where was all this possessiveness coming from? Whatever it was I was feeling, it didn't go away for the rest of the night. I stayed for another hour or two, then drove home in a sulk. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The new semester started like any other. There wouldn't be much to say about it at all, except for the fact that I got invited to a house party for the first time in my lonely, godforsaken life. And not just any party, either. Casey's party. Her birthday party. The invite was handed to me one day in the hall on the way to AP Bio, by some kid named Johnson. The small slip was pink and scented, and had the words Come Celebrate Casey's 18th on the 18th! in big cursive letters. The inside was filled with a most appalling picture of a fluffy kitten surrounded by dancing beer bottles, and the words "16 Hooker Avenue, Friday, 9:00". I was horrified. Not to mention confused. Wouldn't you be? I mean, what the hell? Only a month after I'd checked her out and made a fool of myself in public? I suspected that she was just being polite. That she had invited all of the seniors, and didn't want to make me feel bad, or something equally inane. But that didn't stop the small tendrils of excitement and foreboding from rushing through me at the thought of seeing her again. So, come Friday night, I found myself following the directions on the invite despite my many misgivings, and pulling into 16 Hooker Avenue, gawking at the sight of the big white house with lights burning and music leaking from under the door. There was still some snow on the ground from the morning flurry, and the light made the soft flakes sparkle with a magical light. It figured. Beautiful girls seemed to have fairy tale backdrops follow them wherever they went, as if poised at every moment for the perfect photo-op. I approached the door with Casey's gift clutched under my arm—my old Nine Inch Nails album— feeling foolish. The album was the result of a panic attack the previous afternoon, upon remembering that it was a birthday party and that I had no idea what she might like. My first instinct had been jewelry, but that pretty much screamed "Look! Molly's a homosexual!" and anyway it was a moot point, since I was definitely not thinking about going steady with her, or kissing her, or slamming her against the wall and... The door opened, saving my current train of thought from playing out to its doomed conclusion. In the doorway was an older girl who looked a lot like Casey, and who I assume must have been her older sister. "You can come in, you know. The party's just getting started." Her eyes fell upon the envelope under my arm, and smiled so brilliantly my eyes started to water. "Nine Inch Nails! Oh, is that for Casey? How sweet! I'll take that over to the table." I watched with a vague sense of trepidation as she snatched the gift away and left me on the doorstep. It was kind of cold, though, so I went inside, feeling large and clumsy. It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, though. The lights were on, people were mingling amiably—mostly people I recognized, but there were a couple new faces—and there were drinks, but those were mostly sodas. No beers or fluffy kittens in sight. I relaxed a little. I still had no clue what I was doing there, but at least nobody was more dressed up than I was. I heard the pounding of feet, and Casey entered the living room with a bounce in her step and a gleam in her eye. She stopped to talk to a friend, and I took the opportunity to give her a surreptitious once-over. The slacks looked nice on her. They were rolled up at her hips, and her t-shirt was tied at her bellybutton. Not what I would have worn to my birthday party, but who was I to complain? It gave me a very nice view of her very nice waist, after all. Her sister came back into the room with a diet pepsi and, on catching sight of me, handed it over with a smile that nearly gave me a tooth-ache. "Hey, kid. I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I'm Jess, Casey's sister." I found my voice. "Molly. I'm... Molly." "Is that a nickname for Mary?" "No." "Oh. Okay." I stood there, feeling like I was supposed to say something else, when a hand landed on my shoulder from behind quite suddenly, and I knew, knew, knew it was Casey. Turned around. "Hey, Casey," I said, straightening. "Hey yourself." She gave me a small half-smile, which was really just a slight deepening of the corner of her lips, and gestured behind her towards the stairs. "Come with me for a second?" Then, without waiting for a reply, she grabbed my hand. I had no option but to allow myself to be tugged, and shaken, and clamp down on my growing sense of danger. Up the stairs, across to the left, through a door and into a bedroom. A very nice bedroom. On the left, a futon and a big cushy bed. On the right, a tricked out Macbook Pro and a soft rug that vaguely resembled a blue layer of cloud, and guh. What can I say? I'm a sucker for small comforts. Casey plopped down on the bed and patted the space beside her. Okay, stop. Who else is confused? I certainly was. Who was this angelic stranger with a perfect waist and pretty curls and perfect teeth and perfect lips? Some siren that planned on leading me to my death? I was understandably suspicious. I wondered what kind of person would invite a total stranger to her birthday party, and then immediately proceed to take said stranger up to her bedroom. "Molly?" I stared. Frankly, I was surprised she even knew my name. "Yeah. Um, yes?" "If you're wondering what you're doing here, let me explain." She was playing with a drawstring on her slacks, one shoe scuffing the cloud-rug shyly. I was instantly on high alert. I didn't buy the coy act for one minute, and I had to resist the sudden urge to look around for hidden cameras. I was hesitant to say anything that might unintentionally incriminate me, in case this was some sort of cruel joke that would in a few hours end up on YouTube with a million hits. But I also figured it would be rude not to say anything. "Okay—explain," I ventured, and waited for the jokes to begin, my eyes already half-shut. But what came next, I could never have expected. "I want you to fuck me." The room caved in around my ears. You could have heard a pin drop. Was something ringing? My mind had gone completely blank. But then I realized that I wasn't breathing, so I sucked in a huge breath and tried not to hyperventilate. I heard that wrong, clearly. She must have said something else. Duck. Truck? Pluck, muck... I heard a strangled cough, and jumped before realizing it had come from my own throat. Casey's face broke into a wide smile. I quickly became flustered at the sheer number of teeth. She spoke again, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I saw you watching me at the dance a few weeks ago. You couldn't keep your eyes off me. Even my ex noticed." I blanched. Here it was; the mocking had begun. Of course she'd noticed me staring. I'd been bloody obvious. God—please smite me where I stand. But Casey wasn't done. "You know, I've been thinking a lot lately--about what it might be like. To be fucked. By a woman, that is." She broke off, bit her lip, and glared suddenly. "I have been fucked by a man, you know." I didn't know quite what to say to that, so I just eyed this new demonstration of insanity warily and tried not to giggle. "I know you want me, Molly. I saw you." She smirked, but it looked forced. Was she nervous? Panic. Run away. Was this a test? Was I supposed to screech in disgust, and say, 'What? No way, man!' and act like I found the very idea repulsive? The trouble was, I didn't find it repulsive. At all. My treacherous brain, tempted by the sheer, miniscule possibility that she was really offering what I thought she was, began to torture me with images of kneeling on this very bed, driving into her with her legs spread wide and curled over my shoulders, perfect white teeth biting into her perfectly plump lips. I gulped the ridiculous thoughts away and tried to concentrate against the pounding of my heart and curling of my toes, feeling betrayed by my own body. "The door is locked. No one will hear us." My eyes went wide. What? It was then that I started to really flip out, as my wits caught up to the situation. The door was locked? What the fuck? Since when? I didn't dare look at it to check, though, because Casey's gaze had become positively predatory, and part of me *knew* that if I looked away even once she might pounce. "You want this," she said, raising her hand, and my eyes followed despite their best wishes as she began stroking her breast through her shirt. "You want me." My heart felt ready to leap to its death, and I couldn't speak. My throat had closed up. Her fingers' circling motions were making her confident breaths falter, and I just couldn't take it anymore. She had to stop, or I knew I'd do something I regretted. But she showed no sign of slowing down. Soon she had captured my wrist and was pulling my shaking hand upward, to rest on her breast over her shirt. She tightened her grip around my arm, and I suddenly found myself with a handful of perfectly soft flesh. My jaw went slack. My pupils dilated, and I hardly dared breathe. I tried half-heartedly to pull away, but then she did something even more unexpected and fell backward against the bed, taking my wrist—and therefore me—with her. I found myself drawn into a sitting position between her spread legs, in a state of frozen shock, shoulders tense. Her non-occupied hand feathered across my bicep, and I shivered as her fingers wandered upward, stroking my neck with the lightest of touches. I felt my hair being tucked behind my ear, the caress like electricity. Casey's breaths grew shallower, and she was staring at me with an expression somewhere between awe, hunger... and genuine excitement. Without warning, something in me snapped. I grabbed both of her delicate wrists and pinned them on either side of her body. She gasped, but I forced her to lie still, pressing my body down the length of her so that we were flushed together. She struggled a bit and made a squawking noise, but I ignored it in favor of basking in the feel of a small, soft body beneath my own. "I knew you were bent..." she whispered accusingly, a bit of a laugh fluttering through her words, but she must have seen something in my eyes that gave her pause because she stopped talking. And then I couldn't look away from her lips. They were so perfect. Everything about her, so soft... I lowered my head to hers and captured her lower lip. Silky, smooth. Just like I had suspected. Deserving of worship, definitely. My hips had a mind of their own, and began to rock firmly against hers. I don't think Casey really expected that so soon, because the tendons in her wrists clenched and her eyes opened wide when I drew back. My mind was whirling in a thousand directions, humblingly human--but my body felt alien, and wild, and wouldn't obey my brain's command to get off her and run away immediately. I ground more firmly against her pelvic bone, my eyes closing from the heat that shot through me at the sound of her surprised moan. But it wasn't nearly enough. I pulled my hands away from her wrists to free her shirt from its little front-facing knot. When it finally untangled I pushed the edges of her tee up until I felt the wire of a bra against my hands. I stopped. Cleared my throat. Realized what I was doing. Casey's eyes glittered, returning to their previous smirk. "What's stopping you? Do it." And so I did, feeling bold. The bra was pretty interesting, I must admit. It was blue, of all colors, with little squarish designs on it. But it had to go. And I told her so. "Then take it off." Hands shaking, I obeyed. I must pause here for a moment to describe the astonishing subject I was looking at. Now, I'd seen breasts before. Of course I had. But these were so lush. Big enough to get a grip on, small enough that they weren't spilling off her chest. Soft enough to kiss; tan enough to wonder. It made me smile without my permission. I bent to greet an exposed nipple with a questing mouth. Casey's expression was open, as if my intimacy surprised her. It surprised me, too. "You don't have to be gentle," she said, touching my face. I sat up at that. My insides shivered as I thought about what that might mean, and I watched with confusion as she twisted and opened the desk drawer by her bed, coming back with a rather scary looking serrated knife in her hand. It made me somewhat uneasy, and then extremely concerned as I found myself a moment later holding said knife. "Please," she said, expectantly. "And I trust you not to hurt me." I looked at the knife in bemusement and met her eyes. "What exactly do you expect me to do with this?" I accused, brow furrowed. "Anything you want." I tested the edge with my thumb, feeling lost. It was pretty dull. I looked at it with a fair amount of cluelessness, until the weight of her gaze drove me to make some kind of decision. Carefully, and holding my breath, I ran the knife tip down the center of her chest, from her collar bone (which was exquisite) to the place where her ribs ended. "Um... How's that?" I checked nervously. Her eyes were closed, but she looked far less afraid that I thought she should. "More than okay." I drew the edge along her arms and belly-- which twitched under the caress and resulted in a beautiful, drawn out moan-- and even pressed a little harder in some places. No blood, though. It was all getting pretty weird. I cleared my throat. "Anything else?" After a moment or two, Casey seemed to remember why she had locked me in her room in the first place, and reached for the desk drawer once again. She pulled out an obscene contraption that brought color to my face, and held it out to me. "Um--?" "It's a strap-on. Duh." She waved. "Well, go on! Put it on." So I Was At One of Those Parties I stared at her and her outstretched hand, searching for a joke. I found none. "How, exactly?" She sighed with disgust, pushing me off the bed. I fell with a "huh?", and thanked god for small miracles that I was still fully clothed. "What's the matter with you? Haven't you ever watched the pornos? You have to stand up and take your pants off." I blanched. "Wait... Run that by me again?" She rolled her eyes. "Here, I'll help." Talk about embarrassment! I stood there with a beautiful girl kneeling on the ground before me, tugging at the snap of my jeans, while all I could do was stare in amazement and hope I got my voice back soon. I stepped out of my pants as soon as she lowered them and started to back off a hurry when Casey grabbed my knee. "Hold still, I have to put it on you." She laid out the harness of the—dick-looking thing so that the leg holes were spread out, and took hold of my ankle. Which tickled, a lot. "Stop fidgeting, Molls. You're making this way harder than it has to be. Put your left foot in this loop, and your right foot in the other." I did as she asked, still feeling completely awkward. Casey remained unfazed, though, at least until she started to pull the harness up past my knees. A blush spread across her face, and as she tightened straps around my hips I noticed that her nipples were still hard. This was extremely comforting to me for reasons I wouldn't be able to explain to you. She stood up and walked back to the bed, sliding off her slacks as she went. My mouth went dry. She hadn't even been wearing underwear. Her ass was *definitely* something to stop and drool over. But I was also fairly distracted by the large blue penis that was currently protruding from my hip, the gray gel pad beneath its base pressing against my.... "Well, don't just stand there. You have work to do." I jerked at the sound, seeing Casey's pleased grin, and strode to the bed, a nervous laugh spilling out at the sight of the blue Jefferson bobbing its way in the air. I clenched my mouth shut after a moment, feeling foolish. When I looked up I was met with the gorgeous sight of a completely, head to toes naked Casey Stevens, nipples perked and legs bent. I marveled at her confidence. She patted the space between her feet and I started hyperventilating again—though I tried not to show it. I found it strange, standing there half-naked with my shirt still on. But I didn't really want to take it off and expose myself, either. So I took up a kneeling position between her knees, cautiously. My attention, however, was firmly fixated on the pink flesh between her thighs. So pretty. Contrary to what Casey might have believed, I *had* seen a few pornos, but the women in those videos all had wrinkly, stretched, fleshy pussies that were difficult to even look at. Casey's, however, sweetly invited the gaze. I reached out a hand and inched my fingertips up her thigh, which shook. I looked up, and Casey was biting her lip. "That's good. Keep—keep doing that." I paused, but when she nodded reassuringly I continued inching my fingers up... and placed one fingertip on the dark opening at her center. Taking a deep breath, and summoning my courage, I slipped it all the way in. I was surprised at how moist she was, and felt my heart begin to thud with the beat of the music from the party below. It felt wonderful to know that such a beautiful girl was actually attracted to me, no matter how weird the situation was or how strange the experience felt. And it felt even better when Casey clenched around my finger. That was just too surreal to be believed. "Add another one." Casey opened her eyes as I did so, gasping. "Another." I stared down at her. Jesus, another? She was already so tight. "Another, damn you!" So I obeyed, hoping I wouldn't hurt her. Then again, this was the same girl who had ordered me to run a knife down her body. I hid my smirk at the thought, pulled my fingers out a bit, and then drove them back in even deeper. She bit her lip. I knew, of course, that my fingers alone couldn't be doing much for Casey. I was neglecting her clit, after all--but I was loathe to do anything she didn't explicitly ask of me. I wondered if any of the guys she'd been with had even thought about making it good for her. "Casey...?" She looked at me expectantly. "If you don't mind, I'm going to—" I cut myself off, too fuzzy-headed to elaborate. She nodded impatiently, so I trailed off, and removed my fingers. I ran a damp fingertip upward until I felt her nub, and dragged the pad of my thumb across it lightly. Casey's hips rose off the bed at once, and she groaned, blinking. She had really long eyelashes. It was kind of distracting, actually. "What did you just do?" I smiled in satisfaction at the wonderment in her tone. I had hoped for as much. I pressed again, this time using the friction to pull her clit down. She whimpered. I took my wet fingers and rubbed the tip of the fake penis-thing at my waist (what had she called it before?), feeling a little silly, but knowing that if I did this next bit right it could feel really good for Casey. I guided the tip to just touch her clit, knowing that she was watching me all the while. I dragged the tip down, pulling her pussy skin down with it, until the head was at her entrance. I pushed in half an inch, then a little more. And at the feel of Casey's ankles crossing behind my back, I braced my arms on either side of her shoulders, leaning over until the top of my mound was pressing against her clit, and drove, slowly, the rest of the way into her. Casey moaned at the stretch, her back arching beneath me. I was surprised to find that it felt good for me, too, what with the pressure from the plastic dick's base sliding against my own clit. The contraption was very cleverly designed, I decided, before deciding that thinking was overrated anyway. Casey's legs twitched around my back, and I sank even deeper into her. "Come on," Casey breathed, eyes closed. "Just fuck me already!" Who was I to disobey? I pulled out, and slid back in, careful to position the angle so that it felt good for her, too. After all, I was already in heaven. I just wanted her to feel the same. "Harder." Okay, that was pretty hot, I have to admit. Especially when her legs slid down to wrap tight around my hips. "More!" My back was starting to ache from holding myself still, so I complied. Faster, harder, whatever she wanted. Soon enough, though, I got caught up in the sensations running through me, loving the way that pummeling her sent shockwaves up my spine. The ache in my thighs even felt good. I closed my eyes, and stretched my upper body so it was flush against hers, still rocking ever deeper. My thrusts became longer... slower, but all the more powerful for it. The heat between our bodies began to build, and Casey was making those lovely little noises, halfway between a squeak and a grunt, her hips meeting my every thrust, and I was breathing far too heavily. My orgasm took me completely by surprise, because what had been just a hot, burning sensation bloomed suddenly into a red, sharp shock to my nervous system. I thrusted into the feeling, muscles tensing, everything pulled taut and raw. And then I collapsed, breathing heavily. Casey made a frustrated sound from below me, and before I could fully recover she had grabbed my hips and started to pull me into her. Oh. Apparently, she was not finished, and wanted to make that absolutely clear. I felt boneless, but drove into her anyway because it would be cruel to leave her in her current state; flushed, very turned on, and very, very... close. The extra pressure on my swollen clit was like this excruciating pleasure. It felt so good it hurt. My insides were still clenching with aftershocks, and it was almost too much. Casey's breathing was shallow and forced, and her nails were biting the skin of my hips. Nine Inch Nails, I thought randomly, and then stopped thinking altogether, because this look of absolute rhapsody was crossing her face, and my brain was getting in the way by making ridiculous metaphors about angels on earth and ungodly perfection. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Once or twice in your life, you may find yourself experiencing a miracle that is so outrageous and unlikely that it changes you life completely, until you no longer recognize yourself. As I stumbled to my car in a daze once the party had ended, calves burning and thighs pressed together as I walked in a vain attempt to ease the ache between them, I couldn't help but smile and think that I had just experienced such a miracle. And as I drove away, strap-on wrapped safely in a blanket in the passenger seat and a phone number tucked into the grid on the air conditioner, I couldn't help but smirk and think of next time.