Page 92 of The Friendship Study

Lulu was nervous when I first asked her. “I want it to be good for you,” she’d said, wringing her hands together. “What if I hurt you? What if I’m not good? I’ve never done it before.”

But I have. And we’re good at figuring things out together.

I brush the backs of my fingers over her nipples, watching as her body responds. She rubs herself against my cock, her hips moving over me. She’s stunning as she tips her head back, getting herself off. I urge her with my hands on her thighs. Tell her she’s beautiful, so beautiful. Beg her not to look at me like that or else this will be over long before we get a chance to start. She’s hot and wet around me, the pleasure rushing from my thighs, up my back. I try to reach around the tangle of our legs and hips to prep myself, but this angle isn’t working.

Lulu rises up on her knees while I shove a pillow under my hips, and the change in position lines the head of my cock with her pussy. She makes a noise, a desperate whine.

“Do it,” I whisper. She doesn’t need any more urging from me. Lulu sinks down on me and it’s a bit awkward, but I can reach now. I play with myself, the space behind my sac, drawing my finger around my rim before pushing in. Even this shallow penetration feels like too much combined with the slow drag of her pussy along my cock.

“I think,” she says. She keeps her eyes closed and I want her to open them but I’m glad she doesn’t. Her breasts bounce gently, her stomach shivers with every breath. I slip my other hand between us and pet her. I have her body, and now her sounds. If I had her eyes, too, I might do something wild, something too big, too much, too soon.

Maybe ask her to marry me.

“What do you think, baby?” I ask, my voice gravel.

“I think I’m gonna come soon,” she says, her voice dripping with lust, sweet like honey.

“Yeah?”

She nods and I pet her faster. She comes off my dick, knee-crawls up my body as I reach for her with my tongue and lips. It’s a mercy, the taste of her in my mouth, her come on my chin. A mercy that my focus on her pleasure is the only thing keeping me from coming. She pulses against me, her hand splayed out on the wall behind the headboard, fingernails scratching at the paint. Leave a mark, I want to say. On this house. On me.

Eventually she leaves my chest. I’m cold everywhere she isn’t touching me anymore. My heart pounds against my rib cage as I register the sounds of her fiddling with the harness. Slowly, I sit up. I feel dizzy, sluggish, as if I’m the one that just had the orgasm. I help her with the harness and attaching the dildo, the condom and lube. She shakes her head when I offer the bullet vibe that slots into a spot near her clit. “I want to focus on you.” She grips the dildo.

“How do I look?” she whispers.

The harness itself is basic. Utilitarian, black, nylon fabric. The dildo that came with it is thin and curved.

“You look like a dream,” I say. I don’t pinch myself, but I want to. She glows.

We kiss, slowly. Lie back, slowly. Where we were frenzied before, now we’re glacial. I take her hand in mine and we explore together. Lulu fingers me with the same studious intensity that she does everything she cares about, watching my face, listening. She asks questions, “like this?” and “more?” and “do you like that, baby?”

“I’m ready,” I give as my answer.

She pours lube, on herself, on me, repositions me on the pillows, adds even more lube.

“Hey.” I touch her wrist. “C’mere,” I say, so I can kiss her. “I love you,” I say into her warm mouth, the soft skin of her shoulder as she relaxes and guides the phallus to my entrance.

She bites her lip as she presses in, a little frown that I want to smooth with my thumb. Her first thrusts are shallow and tentative. The flush spreads over me immediately, like our skin bleeds into each other. It runs down her chest, up my stomach, into my neck.

The stretch is hot, it always is. Discomfort, more than pain, that requires a moment to adjust but once I do I ask for more, stroking myself. As she hits my prostate, I grunt. She freezes, watching me.

“It was good,” I say. “It’s good.”

So, she tries again, and I feel it everywhere, in the bottom of my feet, my scalp. “Yes.” I gasp. “Like that.”

She gets physical, lifting one leg onto her shoulder, then the other, and the angle makes me say, “Oh fuck.”

She’s new to thrusting and Lulu sweats, the hair at her temples turning dark. She bats my hands away from my own dick and takes over. My heart beats there, in her fist. My body is both melted into the mattress and strung tight.

I want to come now.

I want this to last forever.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” she says, steadying herself with one hand on the pillow beneath my head, looking down at me like I’m her most prized possession, a new-to-her old book, the T-shirt she’s always trying to steal.

“What could be like this, baby?”

“I didn’t know love could feel like this.”

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