Page 61 of You're So Vine
Maybe it’s time to reverse this. See how he likes it.
I shift onto my side, push him not so gently on the shoulder so he’ll roll on his back. May as well have shoved the two-ton Dodge.
“Come on,” I say. “Fair’s fair.”
“I’m not done yet,” he says. “Barely halfway.”
Halfway?Hell, no!
Because I’m sneaky as well as impatient, I slip my hand down to take hold of his cock. I find that usually accelerates proceedings. But Cam’s way ahead of me, catches my wrist.
“Lie on your front,” he says. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
Okay, fine. I roll over on my stomach, lay my head on my arms, and wait.
As an athlete, I’ve had more massages than I can count. I like them firm—dig those thumbs right into the sore spots, thank you. No pain, no gain. So, when Cam starts tracing his finger across my shoulders again, I get antsy. Not enough pressure! Too feathery!
But the way he’s doing it— rhythmically, purposefully, creating patterns like he’s drawing on my back—I start having the weirdest feeling. A tingling that’s in myheadas well as my body, like the goosebumps are rising inside of myskull. My whole being is flooded with what I can only describe as a sparkly shiver coming in waves that are more and more intense until—holy heck—what thefuck?
I think I just had an orgasm in my brain.
Cam’s mouth brushes my ear. “Don’t move,” he whispers.
And his hand slips down to stroke my ass, softly, before his fingers delve between my legs, sliding into my hot, wet depths and over my clit, rushing me like a runaway train to a matching full body orgasm that I swear makes me float right up to the ceiling and gently back down again, like a contented feather.
Who knows how long later—the entire Mesozoic?—I’m roused from my trance by a rustling of foil, and Cam murmuring, “Now okay?”
“Absolutely,” I murmur back. “But just so you know, I’m not moving. Can’t even open my eyes.”
His soft laugh. “I can work with that.”
A change in air pressure, and Cam is holding himself above me, arms straight on either side. I lift my rear up a little, so he has easier access, and then I gasp as Cam slides inside me up to the hilt. This position is so lazy for me but so good. My thighs are clamped together making the fit extra tight and Cam’s cock feel huge. I’m guessing he likes it, too— the repeated mutter of “fuck”being a small clue. He begins to thrust shallower, but he has no chance of making this last because by now, I’ve managed to slide my hand underneath and find my own center of pleasure, which is quick to respond. I plummet over the edge and drag him with me, and we’re so loud that any squirrels in the trees outside will have dropped their acorns in fright.
“Shit…”
Cam’s arms are trembling. He rolls off before his arm muscles give out completely and he crushes me under his weight, then lies on his back, his chest still heaving.
My neck is getting cricked, so I shift onto my back, too.
“Where did you learn that?” I say after we’ve both caught our breath. “The drawing on the back thing?”
“Uh…”
I sense embarrassment.
“Let me guess,” I say, “the yoga teacher?”
“Uh, no,” says Cam. “It was YouTube.”
“Wha-at? Get outta town.”
“I was looking for mindfulness videos and found these others. People whispering, brushing hair, mixing paint, all kinds of stuff. They’re supposed to calm you, even give you a pleasant tingling feeling.”
That’s an understatement. I must check these videos out.
We lie quietly for a while more.
Then Cam says, “I’m sorry. About … driving to Lee’s. After our argument, I needed someone to talk to. Wasn’t thinking straight.”
