Page 27 of The Sky in Summer
7
Van
My dick is about to explode. Cum will paint the walls of the bedroom, and an ambulance will have to be called to remove my spent body. It would be a premature demise, but a happy one. And we haven’t even fucked yet.
The last articles of clothing have been thrown to the floor, and I stand naked at the end of the bed. Layla lays against the pillows, eyes on my dick. She wears a sexy grin. I lift and stroke.
“Let me help you with that,” she says slowly rolling over, highlighting the grown-up version of the ass I once saw in a darkened room. Worth the wait. Worth the fucking wait. My pulse quickens.
“Is this what you wanted to look at?” she says, giggling and jiggling her ass. It has a mind of its own. When she stops there is a little after shake, like I placed a plate of Jell-O down and it hasn’t stopped moving. Another man might applaud from this front row seat, but my mind goes somewhere else. I’d like to bite that ass. Just a soft one. My dick jumps when the thought enters my mind.
“That’s the view to beat. God.”
She is all woman, not girl. There is a genuine lusty chick here, who I am surprised to see. Thought my lovemaking skills would be the way to bring that out. I would be guiding the night’s events and going slow to put her at ease. Instead, it is Layla who has the con. I’ll never forget this night, or the feeling that has overtaken me.
She spreads her legs inviting me closer. Climbing on the bed, kneeling over her, I kiss silky skin. I’m thinking of more. There’s an element of gluttony in my desire to know her body. My fingers part cheeks and the most perfect looking lips and pink little asshole introduce themselves. Like two flowers that just opened because I happened to be looking. The heat of my gaze, sun on the blossoms.
I take the first taste of her sweet pussy, welcoming the wetness and taking in the signature aroma of Layla excited. There has been no other like her. None whose scent and feel and impression have landed so squarely on me in the same way. Our pheromones must be perfectly matched. I back off the bed, take her by the ankles and flip her to face me, then climb back on. Her legs spread open, welcoming the attention I am more than willing to give.
My hands, mouth, and dick know what it’s like to please a woman. Tonight is about more than the technique of fucking. Her pleasure and mine are intertwined and it has been since before the first kiss. Now it grows untethered. Connection isn’t just a concept. Instead, it is sharply in focus, and hotter than I imagined. I thought the C word meant some vanilla version of sex written about in old romance novels. Maybe that’s just the bullshit I have been telling myself. The end game of orgasm is only part of the story. How we are together in every moment is the novel. I see that now.
She lets me lead, but it is Layla and the genuine sexiness of her who brings us to the higher ground. There is no hesitation, but she asks for one consideration.
“Go slow. I haven’t done this in a while.”
There is no lie in her eyes. I believe her.
“Get on top then. Ride me.”
“I’ll try,” she says, climbing on board.
Not sure she is familiar with this position. No, it’s not that. I would guess she hasn’t done it very much, by the trepidation on her face.
“You’re in control,” I say, taking my dick and running it against her lips. “See how good it feels?”
“Wait! Go slower!”
“I haven’t done anything yet!”
“Give me a minute to get back on the horse, Rowdy.”
We both want to laugh, which doesn’t insult me. It’s funny as shit.
“You are the sexiest woman I have ever been with.”
It pleases her to hear, and a shy smile confirms it. She lifts and takes my cock in her hands. Slowly, the head parts lips, and she sits down, down, down onto it. Oh fuck me. I need to stay still while she adjusts to the feel. My dick is mentioning there must be a better plan.
Three decades plus don’t seem too long a wait for what is happening. She has delivered this new level of pleasure. More than other women have ever brought to the table. And it is all wrapped up in vulnerability and a weird kind of innocence she puts out. Can you be innocent at thirty-eight, with two children? Hers is not based on how many sexual partners she’s had, or how uninhibited she is in this moment. It’s that she makes me feel like what we are experiencing is new to us both. I feel lost and found at the same time. Something strange is happening and it’s all wrapped up in desire.
Eyes darken in passion and hands steady herself against my chest. She begins to move. I lift gently to meet her. Oh baby. Then the unimaginable happens. Before we can feel the full force of one grind, the sound of the front door opening bursts our bubble.
“Layla!”
Layla’s eyes widen in horror. We stop moving, even though there is still a zap of electric shock running through my balls.
In a flash, everything changes. She climbs off my stiff dick, a little too quickly, and the angle of retreat fucking hurts.
“Ow!”
