Page 41 of Quarantined
I should say no, but my usual backbone has completely slipped. Milo is acting with so much confidence; it leaves no room for arguments. Milo seems certain about what’s going on. So much so, that I would follow him to hell right now if he told me to.
And it feels like I just did.
My hands move on their own, between us and down his body. We are both lying on our sides now, facing each other.
I run my index fingers down his length, feeling his size. I can feel Milo holding his breath as my small hands trace his length. He gives out a groan but holds very still as I explore. My trembling fingers slowly close around his dick.
I have given handjobs a few times to Michel over the summer. I know how to do it. But all my limited experience seems to have left me. Luckily, Milo guides me and whispers instructions on how he likes to be stroked.
“Hold me tight. Stroke me up and down. Yes, just like that,” he gives out a restrained growl.
He fixes his gaze to me as I stroke him. I can feel him trying to maintain control.
Milo pants as he covers my face and neck with kisses. “Oh my God, that feels so fucking good,” Milo’s breathing is now ragged, his face is flushed, and his pupils are dilated.
All the while, he is somehow focused enough to continue his own assault on me. I can barely follow his instructions, distracted by his fingers.
I try to remember to cup his balls, squeezing and pumping him with both hands. At the same moment, he increases his own tempo on my clit. Before long, I am chasing an orgasm of my own.
All of a sudden, I hear Milo groan out, “Fuck, baby.” His warm cum land on my hands and legs.
I don’t even get a chance to react before he does something on my clit that has my back arching. I try to scream out, but my voice gets stuck in my throat.
I am not able to pay attention to anything else right now as I fall back on my pillow. I have completely dissipated from reality, unaware of my own body and movements.
From a distance, I hear the bathroom door open. A few minutes later I feel something wet on my legs. I peek down to see Milo wiping the semen off my leg and hands, with a washcloth.
I vaguely watch Milo putting his boxers back on, as he throws the washcloth in my dirty laundry hamper. I still can’t move but Milo pulls my tank top down, and my shorts up.
He stretches out on the bed with me, with his head in the hollow of my neck. A little of his weight is on top of me, but most of it is on the side, so it’s not uncomfortable.
His warm body weight, combined with the post-orgasm high, is far too calming. My eyes close on their own as we both start to drift off.
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I wake up the next day, completely disoriented.
What's going on?
My world comes crashing down within a second. I am lying on my side with Milo’s arms wrapped around me.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
We… oh God.I don’t have time to think. Milo is fast asleep. And I do not want to be here when he wakes up. I slowly untangle myself from his hold.
I move off the bed and tiptoe around to change into some clothes and find some shoes. Grabbing my purse and phone, I turn the knob to the bedroom as quietly as I can. Hoping it doesn’t creak, I slip out. I don’t bother closing the door behind me.
I dash downstairs, grasping at the nearest wall to steady myself.I am a mix of confusion and shame as I try to piece it together.
What the hell happened last night?
What overcame Milo and what possessed me?
There were opportunities to stop. He would have respected my choice if I told him to stop. I am not weak. I have saidNoto plenty of boys before.Why didn’t I say no?If anything, I egged him on.
I didn’t even formulate a word. I couldn’t. I just gaped at him like an idiot. By the time my senses came around, he had started building up my orgasm. At that point I would have begged him to keep going, not the other way around.
What would people say if they knew I didthatwith the guy who signs my report cards and chaperones my school dances? We are going to be a Woody Allen joke. I am mortified.
