You lie on the bed and the ceiling stared right back at you. One question kept running through your mind, what is this guy going to do to me? Afraid of the unknowns, not really pain nor hurt, but the adverse effects of being exposed to pleasure for the first time. You were on his bed, and he knelt right beside you, like the prince beside the sleeping princess.
Him: ‘Close your eyes, don’t open them no matter what. Put your hand on mine. Know where it goes, pull it away if you don’t like where it is going.’
You closed your eyes, and warmth started to gather at your ears, tension builds up in your head. You feel his hand under yours, sliding up and coming to a stop on your stomach. Warm, and harmless, but your body is always prepared for him to give you a tickle. And he knows it.
Him: ‘I’m not going to tickle you. Relax.’
You felt a shadow across your eyelids, and a pressure on your forehead – a peck. You thought his kiss was weird, since it doesn’t mean much nor you can understand any intention from that kiss. You tried hard not to ask questions and your eyelids tight. His warm breathing went across your eyes and nose, stopping at your lips, you supposed.
A peck.
Another, but it didn’t leave your lips.
His lips parted yours, and wet it with his tongue. Never before you felt a soft tongue on you, the taste was surely tempting to find out. You poked a little of your tongue and reached his, both, wet, slimmy and sensual. Two raw piece of flesh meeting, sounds like something else. His tongue cleaned your teeth and washed your mouth, you did the same and was in slow-mo french kiss.
His hand went to your navel, where the white shirt separated the jeans and sneaked under. Your hand gripped onto his, in case he went to fast. The warmth of his palm was even more obvious. It wasn’t just warmth, it felt safe. He flipped his palm until the part where his pinky were, were the only section in contact with your belly button. In that position, he moved towards your neck. Nothing felt like it would stop this, and you were trying hard to feel as much as you can. You won’t know who would ever do this for you again.
His palm reached the valley of the two mountains, and he slowly moved to cup the one on your right. More warmth, and a ‘safe’ feeling overwhelmed as he kneaded your tender piece of bubbly breast. His tongue still occasionally touching yours, as he continued doing whatever he did, you realised something. Your hand that was over his palm was squeezing. Oh no, that act must have made you felt like a ‘despo’. You opened your eyes and met his closed sight, still focused on your lips and his hand.
He then moved over to the other side to give it some well deserved attention. After a good few minutes of mushing them up, his hand went back to your navel, but higher, right where the bra supports, the bottom of your breasts. It wasn’t really supported like you were seated, and that left you a vulnerable feeling. His hand went under, lifted the bra up and you felt two of his fingers on your nipple, while the rest of his fingers rested around.
Gently, he pressed his fingers together and just a little less than ‘is this going to hurt?’, he started rolling the little browny between, alternating left and right. The sensation that your mind was screaming wasn’t in your dictionary. Again, you only had one word, ‘safe’. This sense of safety wasn’t like any others. Not just feeling home in your home, nor just comfortable, but the idea that an effort is made to make you feel safe. Indescripable.
Every few minutes, he would swap. And a few rounds later, you were unwilling for him to take any breaks or leave. He’s not going to receive anything from you, but you sure made him felt good. You haven’t realised until he told you, that your hand left his at one point in time, fondling the other breast and nipple while he worked on one.
Embaressed, but nonetheless, you still gave him a hug.