Old Crush

"... I think what I like most about her is how raw her writing feels..." Eric had just moved here and I'd been showing him some of the nicer walks, mostly as an excuse to catch up with him again. The heat had me constantly tugging at my bra straps, but otherwise I couldn't have picked a better day for it; the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Painted clouds drifting across the summer sky. Evening sun throwing shadows over the road as it curved through the northern landscape. On one side dense evergreen forests, on the other fields of tall grass extending almost beyond sight, rippling in the wind.

"... like, she really doesn't pull punches..." I really wanted to be more excited about the scenery and the books he'd read, but to be honest my mind was mostly focused on the burning sense of his eyes on me.

... so much emotion with so little descriptions..." By necessity, he was walking behind me. My jeans were pinching and I could see myself as I must appear through his eyes. Judged and found wanting. I tried again to pull my sweater down further than it would actually go.

"... Renna, I'm boring you aren't I?"

"What?" The sound of my name brought me back to reality, like a rubber band snapping. "Oh, no not at all! I was just lost in thought!" I turned to look at him. "She does a lot with only a little description? That's what you were saying, right? See I am listening!"

He smiled. "This isn't a test or anything!"

I felt a tingle in my belly. I like his smile a lot. It was the first thing I noticed about him and it changes his whole face, makes him look decades younger. The way it now wrinkles the corners of his eyes only makes it prettier. "Sure, that's what you say now." I must have made a face because he was laughing and for a while we just walked there, laughing together as the houses of the residential area came into view around the bend.

"Please, tell me more about the book." I prodded when the laughter had mostly died down.

"Yeah, the book! So I'd already seen the movie..."

"Oh, yeah, I think I remember Meg telling me you guys watched it..." Back when we first met, I thought he might have been into me. Then we had been whisked away on the wings of romance, each our separate way as he met Meg I got together with Andy.

"Well, we started watching it together when it just came out..."

"Fuck! Sorry but I didn't realize..." They must have broken up before they finished it. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to bring that up!"

I turned around and his gray eyes met mine. "No it's fine." He has very kind eyes, I felt instantly more at peace looking into them. "If anything, getting through the book without falling into a pit of despair was how I knew I might actually be over her." He gave a mirthless laugh, spread his hands. "All for the low, low price of a year of ugly crying and wallowing in self-pity."

"Hey. Those aren't things to be sneered at!" He was talking to the queen of self-pity. "And anyway, you're looking good..." Too forward? "I mean, you look healthy!" He did look good though. Gray had worked its way into his short beard and his receding hair, he was a little scrawnier, but overall his mid-forties were treating him well. "You've got kind of a glow about you."

He made a big smile and I felt that tingle again. "Yeah. Feels good to be on top of life for a change."

We kept walking in silence, passing colorful houses on both sides. For a moment I let myself get lost in the warm feeling spreading in my chest. Let myself simply enjoy the birdsong, the sound of a distant lawnmower, the warm wind in my face carrying the smell of cut grass. The simple pleasure of walking with him. We were almost back at my place when he spoke. "You too, by the way." He gave a small cough. "You look good too."

The warm bubble popped, and again I was aware of his eyes on me, darting to his feet as I turned around to face him. "Oh no." Heat was rising in my face. "No no no no." I had to laugh. It was an ugly laugh, even to my own ears. "Thanks for the pretty lies, but I know I'm an absolute mess." Where he had shrunk, I had swollen. How much had I put on when I let Andy go? How much since? Ten pounds? It had been a while since I dared measure. Twenty? Maybe thirty pounds of prime ass, thigh, belly. None of it tits, go figure. After so many teenage years waiting for them to fill out, I had finally accepted that this was all I'd be getting.

I had put on a bulky sweater in an effort to spare him the worst of what had and hadn't happened up top, but my jeans felt several sizes too small. Like they were bursting at the seams, struggling to contain me.

His voice turned serious. "I mean it though. Post-breakup Renna is looking like she's starting to enjoy life again."

I snorted. "Perhaps I am at that." I pinched my belly through the sweater. "Perhaps a bit too much in some places." Nervousness brings out the snark and self-deprecation in me.

His eyes were wider, I must be disgusting him. "Renna, listen. I really don't think..."

"What?" It came out more frustrated than I had intended.

He shrugged. "Nevermind. None of my business."

Now the silence was tense, hanging between us as we walked the last bit to my driveway. Again he was the first to break it. "Renna, I..."

I turned around to find him twitch, look at his feet, then up at me again, intently, straight into my eyes.

He swallowed. "... I think it's been really nice getting back in touch with you." My heart skipped a beat. For an instant, despite everything, I almost let myself hope that it would play out the way it so often did in my imagination. That he would ask if he could kiss me, or just kiss me without asking, or that he would say something really pretty and then before I knew what I was doing I would be kissing him, and of course he would be really into it too and...

"Anyway," he gave an awkward smile and continued. "If you want to try any of her books, I've got the full set!"

"Thanks..." It took my mind a moment to shift track. "It's..." I almost wanted to say it's a date "It sounds great! I'll come by sometime and check them out!" Worried that I was showing too much excitement at coming into his home, I forced my voice to be neutral "Take care, Eric"

"You too!"

* * *

Renna: Is it alright if I come by to take a look at the books?

Eric: Sure. I work from home, anytime is fine!

Renna: Great! I'll swing by tomorrow after lunch then!

The cursor was blinking at the end of the unsent message. Eric was sitting on a cardboard box, surrounded by a dozen of its sibling, awaiting unboxing. For several minutes, he had been typing and re-typing his response. It's a date! had, by degrees, morphed into Looking forward to it!. Part of him wanted to drop all pretense and simply write I want you so fucking bad, see what would happen.

He was equal parts excited and worried to have Renna in his home. She had visited him and Meg many times of course, with the chaperone of both being in a relationship. Now she would be inside his home and there would be nothing preventing them from... from what?

Catching up with her had been intense, and the whole week since then, she would flash across his mind, leaving behind a tingle in his chest and stomach. Her artless laugh. Her gap-toothed smile. The way middle age had given her presence and subtle confidence, like she was now a grown up, where before she had been a child. The crow's feet and extra chin now appearing when she forgot to be self-conscious and worked that expressive rubber face of hers. Her bun of reddish-blonde hair, now tinged with strands of gray, exposing that kissable neck. The thought of what she might smell like if he did kiss it.

Also less savory thoughts. The way her legs and butt were filling out her jeans. The slight curve of a breast beneath the bulk of her sweater. A wide, black, bra strap, hinting at what was underneath. Imagining her naked, riding him. Her body, soft and welcoming to his touch. How she would touch him in turn, fingers digging into his skin or brushing it gently. How her nipple would stiffen between his lips. What her pussy would taste like. How she would sound when he fucked her. Would she cry out? Would she just quicken her breathing?

He deleted his response and simply gave her message a thumbs-up. Just like outside her house, he didn't want to seem too eager. Didn't want to ruin their decades old friendship, since that was likely what it was to her.

He got up and opened the box, pulled out a stack of books. Having long since run out of shelf space, he started stacking them on top of the dresser.

* * *

"You know, for such an avid reader, you don't seem to care much for bookshelves." I was trying to extract a book from somewhere in the middle of one of many piles, precariously stacked on top of his dresser, all the wile imagining myself buried under an avalanche of hardcovers.

"It's on my todo list." Eric made a sweeping gesture with a book he was holding. "As you can see this place is still something of a work in progress." We were standing in his living room, amidst a sea of cardboard boxes in various stages of unpacking, all containing books. The smell was musty, comforting, like a library. Beyond I could make out the door to his bedroom, unmade bed inside. It felt oddly intimate, like something I shouldn't be looking at. "You'll find, however," he continued, putting on a pompous voice, "it is all quite organized, even though it might not appear so at first glance. To the left are the TBR piles." He placed the book on top, as if to demonstrate, "To the right are the books I've read and in the dresser you will find the DNF pile of great shame, hidden from innocent eyes." He opened one of the cupboard doors.

"I see. Clearly a system devised by a mind far superior to that of us mere mortals." I looked inside. "Aww, now I feel kinda sorry for them." The books did in fact look quite shameful, as if dumped in a pile and left to rot. "I wanna take them home and tell them they're perfect just the way they are!"

"Trust me, they deserve none of your sympathy." He gave them a scathing look as he closed the door. "Truly wretched creatures." Him playing this so straight caused my own façade to crumble. I broke out in a laugh. A short while later his own face cracked into that beautiful smile of his. I felt warmth spreading in my chest.

"Anyway her books are on top of the read pile."

"Right, almost forgot about those." I stood on my toes, strained to reach the topmost book.

"I can get you a chair if you want"

"Nah, it's fine," I kept straining to reach. "I'll just..." My sweater rode up and my bloated belly, freed at last from its clothy confine, fell out. The warm feeling in my chest turned cold, like the air against my skin, juxtaposed against the rising heat around my neck. I whipped around to see if he'd noticed.

He was staring.

Shame turned to indignation turned to fury, boiling up inside. "What the fuck are you looking at?" I had been doing him a fucking favor so far, covering up, but he just couldn't keep his eyes to himself! "Wanna see even more?" I felt my hands, almost like someone else's, cross over my belly and grab the hem of my shirt. "Well, take a real good look!" His eyes widened in what could only be shock and disgust as I pulled up. Well, he had brought this upon himself and it served him right!

I felt gross, but kept pulling, my non-tits offering almost no resistance. My face grew hot as a furnace, temples throbbing. "See!? Aren't you happy you're getting the full tour?" Some part of me, watching this unfold from its panicked hiding place deep inside, was thankful I had at least kept the bra on. "Nothing up there but empty skin and hollow promises!"

He appeared frozen in place. His eyes, seemingly caught in a flight-or-fight struggle, just kept staring right at me, unblinking. Expressionless.

"Fuck you're sexy." I was shaken out of my almost fugue-like state by his words, almost a whisper.

I didn't dare look down on myself, so I just stared him in the face. "No I'm not!" Here I stood, exposed, flabby stomach, stretch marks, flat chest and god knew what else. "Don't mock me! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

At last I wrested back control over my actions, pulled the shirt down and made a dash for the door.

"Hey, I'm sorry! I wasn't... I promise I..."

He launched into a defensive tirade and I let it wash over me as I fumbled with the lock. "Please, just shut up!" Finally, I got the door open and let the summer heat swallow me.

* * *

Eric still wasn't sure exactly what had happened, only that he had ruined everything. Thoroughly and spectacularly.

When her shirt rode up, he shouldn't have stared. That much was obvious.

But what had happened after that made absolutely no sense to him. Suddenly she had stood in front of him, shirt pulled up to reveal her belly, gently rounded, seeming so firm and inviting to his touch, her bra, nipples just barely visible bulges in the black fabric. A moment so similar to yet so unlike what had played out over and over in his mind.

And the way she had been talking about her body, even coated in self-deprecation as it was, the ferocity in her voice, had been so sexy. Made him so excited to see more of her.

He hadn't been able to help himself, had just blurted it out. And then it had all come crashing down.

How many messages had he sent her? Apologizing. Explaining. Each surely just digging himself that much deeper.

Belatedly he had come to the realization that he must give her space. Probably their relationship, such as it was, would be over.

He was barely sleeping for the thoughts spinning in his head but he knew this was out of his hands.

He'd get over her. He got over Meg after more than a decade together, surely he'd be over the loss of a friend in no time.

Surely.

* * *

I had deleted his messages. I couldn't stand to look at them and mostly they just made my head spin even worse.

My feelings from that moment were still entangled as ever. The scene still playing over and over in my mind.

The sense of shame and rejection was still raw, only worsened by the hint of sensuality just beneath.

I would exit the shower and catch sight of my naked body in the mirror, and I would wonder for only a moment. Could someone find me attractive? I couldn't see how. Not anymore.

Getting together with Andy, all those years ago, I was at least fine with most of my body. Sure, I had no tits and my face was too much chin and nose, my teeth a crooked mess, but at least I had a thin waist, a flat stomach and a somewhat shapely butt. Those were all gone now. Well, except for the butt of course which had grown out of all proportion.

I'd thought at least my tits would keep their shape. Well, turns out small tits can sag too. Thanks for nothing, nature.

Towards the end I was almost sure Andy was thinking of someone else when we were fucking. I was hoping he was, actually.

Leaving him was an act of mercy, setting him free to pursue someone attractive.

Still.

What if?

For short moments I would allow myself to imagine what it would feel like if it was real. To have Eric want me. That beautiful smile, smiling for me. What his eyes, gray and beautiful might look like, staring into mine with lust and longing. What his lips might feel like, brushing against my own. What his stubble might feel like against my cheek. What he might smell like.

Less savory thoughts. The taste of his spit in my mouth. The feeling of his body as I ran my hands over it, dug my fingers into it. What his hands would feel like touching me. What he would feel like, growing hard as I pressed him tight against me. What he would sound like when I made him come. What his tongue would feel like touching my clit. What his cock would feel like inside me and his cum would feel like filling me up.

But then the bubble would burst and reality would come crashing in. It wouldn't be like that at all. He would be grossed out by my naked body, but he wouldn't be able to tell me, so he'd have to keep pretending. But then he wouldn't be able to get it up and he'd make excuses but of course I'd know and he'd know that I knew and we'd be there naked and ashamed and it'd be more humiliated than I had ever been in my life...

But still, what if?

I was barely sleeping for the thoughts spinning in my head, and it became increasingly clear that somehow, I would have to get this out of my system.

* * *

Seated at his work desk, now at last unpacked and assembled amidst the slowly receding sea of cardboard, Eric was barely paying attention to the remote meeting he was ostensibly part of. He was staring at the books, trying not to think too much about the fact that the ones Renna had come to borrow were still there, at the very top.

When the phone chimed, he tore his headphones clean off. It was her!

He tapped the notification.

Renna: Sorry it took me so long to reply. I had to take some time to collect my thoughts.

His heart was pounding like electric shocks to his chest. The three dots appeared, indicating she was typing. They disappeared, came back. For several agonizing minutes he just sat there, staring transfixed at his phone.

Renna: If you were joking with the sexy thing (which I totally understand), PLEASE ignore this message.

His hand was shaking. He had to steady the phone against his desk as he raced to type his response.

Eric: Of course I meant it!

Again the three dots. Mercifully, this time the wait was shorter.

Renna: I really hope so.

Renna: Thank you!

Then the longest pause yet. He was beginning to worry she expected him to reply, but he could think of nothing to say.

Finally the dots again. His heart skipped a beat when the message finally came.

Renna: I would like to see you again.

Eric: Sure!

Eric: Where?

Again, a long pause. Then the message appeared instantly.

Renna: Your place?

He was dizzy. Trying desperately not to read too much into it. Maybe she just wanted another shot at borrowing the books? But if that was the case, surely she would have said so."

Right?

* * *

My heart was beating its way out of my chest. I had written it, he had read it and now there was no taking it back.

Also, he said he meant it! The thought made me giddy as I sat staring at the walls of the toilet booth where I had sought refuge. The air smelled faintly of detergent and shit. Not the most romantic of venues to be sure, but I hadn't wanted any of my colleagues looking over my shoulder.

His response was taking so long though! Had I been too forward? Not forward enough? Should I have used the books as an excuse and tried to take it from there? That would require social finesse leagues above my pay grade. Should I have just suggested another walk? Should I have asked him point-blank if I could kiss him? Fuck him?

Then my phone chimed.

Eric: That'd be great!

Eric: When?

I replied instantly, not allowing myself time for second thoughts.

Renna: Today? Five-ish?

Eric: Perfect!

Eric: See you then!

I was feeling vertigo. Made myself respond.

Renna: Yeah :)

I closed the messaging app, turned off the phone and flushed the toilet in case anyone outside was listening. Then I went back to my desk and started willing the hours to go faster, while simultaneously in a state of abject panic at the thought of the moment actually arriving.

* * *

Eight minutes past five the doorbell rang and Eric scrambled to open. His heart was racing, had in fact barely stopped racing, butterflies were raging in his stomach as he saw her standing there, embarrassed smile on her face, eyes not quite meeting his own. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt, making her appear larger than he knew she was, now that he had seen her. He hoped she didn't notice his groin twitch at the thought.

"Hi," realizing he had literally no idea what to say, he settled for the obvious: "Please come in!"

She carefully closed the door behind her and stepped into the hallway he'd just given a panicked once-over cleaning and decluttering. The smell of detergent still hung in the air.

"What..." Again, he scrambled for something, anything, to say. "What do you wanna do?"

She stood staring at his feet, squirming slightly, embarrassed smile still on her reddening face.

"I want..." Her jaw set, her body assumed a posture of determination. "I think..." She raised her eyes and he found himself staring into them; big, blue and beautiful, wrinkles appearing in their corners from her smile. When she spoke her voice was steady. "I stripped for you, we're past pleasantries. I'd want..." She swallowed. Her voice held, but her face kept reddening. "I want you to kiss me."

Eyes still locked, heart still pounding, he took a step towards her. She was taller than him, he noticed now, though not by much.

Carefully, he reached out to touch her cheek, still carrying the warmth of the summer sun. The sense of finally touching her was electric. She leaned into the touch, let it become an embrace, her heart beating against his chest.

He felt another twitch in his groin and she leaned back. "Something's woken up." There was a hint of mischief in her eyes.

"Oh... That..." He swallowed. "That woke up when you walked through the door." She grinned, but her eyes were now beaming as her hands closed around his waist, pulling him tighter. He closed his eyes, leaned in, felt her body shiver as he let his lips gently brush against hers.

Nestling his hand in her hair, he tentatively parted his lips. A moment later he felt her tongue in his mouth.

This opened the floodgates, let all the sensations of her come crashing in. His head was spinning, not yet able to accept the moment as real. The taste of her saliva. The small, muffled noises of pleasure escaping her. The softness of her body so comforting, safe, encouraging. The texture of her hair. Her scent, flowery perfume layered over the warm smell of her own skin and a faint, grounding, undertone of workday sweat. Her slender hands caressing his back underneath his shirt, tingling.

At length, he opened his eyes and leaned back, breaking the kiss. She was staring back as if woken from a dream. Placing a quick kiss on her mouth, he let himself sink to his knees.

Holding her gaze, he slid his hands underneath her shirt, felt his pulse rising as he touched the firm swell of her belly, the ridges of her ribs, the elastic of her bra.

Her eyes widened. With a gasp, she grabbed his hands, pushing them down. "No no no. I..." She gave a short, shrill, laugh. "Sorry, but... nothing there, remember?" Her voice was shaking but her grip was white-knuckle firm, her short nails digging into his wrists.

He smiled up at her and as he started moving his hands back down her waist, she released her grip, letting her hands come to rest on his head.

Gently lifting her shirt, he placed a tentative kiss on the small strip of exposed skin, feeling her give slightly to the touch of his lips, then shudder.

"Is this OK?"

She swallowed, then gave a single, quick nod in response.

At the close distance, minute details stood out to him. Small, silvery stretch marks on her belly, as it rose and fell with her hurried breaths. The green cotton of her underwear, not completely covered by her jeans. Fraying belt loops. The rectangular contour of her phone in one pocket, the bugle of her keys in the other. Folds in the denim. Cracked leather and stretched eyelets in the belt.

Shivers ran through him as she started stroking his hair. "That feels so good." He said it almost to himself, looking up to find her smiling back at him.

Sliding his hands down the swell of her butt, he could feel the places where her underwear was digging into her skin beneath the coarse fabric. Her breath steadied under his lips as he kept placing kisses along her waist.

"Can I take off your pants?"

The movement of her stomach stopped. Her face was expressionless for a moment, then her belly shifted with her quiet exhalation. "Yes." Her mouth twisted into that familiar smile. "Please."

He placed his hands on her belt buckle, forced himself not to hurry. Her hands running through his hair matching his slow pace as he worked the belt open, then the button, the zipper.

The pants came off, fell forgotten onto the floor as she stepped out, underwear seeming too small as it cut into her full thighs.

He took his time, allowed himself to enjoy her softness, the smell of her getting wet. Kissing, tasting. Making her breath catch each time he neared her underwear, shiver as he let fingers and nails dig into her skin. Teasing out a yelp as he gently bit the thin skin near her crotch. Prolonging the moment before the moment.

Her hand grasped the back of his head, nudged him forward, gentle but firm. Then let go. "Sorry!" She pulled her hand back, leaving only a memory of the pressure, then gave a nervous laugh. "Was just getting a bit impatient over here!"

She's so sexy.

He hooked his fingers into the elastic of her underwear and pulled. Her pubic hair, tufty, reddish-blonde to match the hair on her head, tickled his lips as he kissed his way down. Her smell was intense now. Musky. Primal. Intimate.

Grabbing her wrist, he replaced her hand on his head, giving it a small nudge. She widened her stance. Her free hand parted her folds. Then she pushed him towards her.

His tongue touched her exposed clit and he felt her shudder as if from a sudden cold, then relax. Only now did he notice how tense she must have been.

Her naked butt, smooth to his touch, yielded pleasantly as he pulled her towards him. He closed his eyes. Lost himself in her, explored her taste. Tangy, salty, metallic. After all this time spent imagining, it was intoxicating.

Her fingers on his wrist brought him back to himself. Still mouth-deep in her, he felt his hand gently guided from her skin to the cloth of her shirt, coming to rest on the slight swell of her chest, held steady.

"Would you look up at me." Her breathless voice was soft and almost apologetic. He opened his eyes, let them meet hers. "You've really beautiful eyes." The corners of her own eyes wrinkled, as that gap-toothed smile radiated from her whole face, filling him with warmth.

He held her gaze, mouth filled with her taste, nostrils filled with her scent, Skin tingling with the touch of her fingers. One hand grasped his hair, nudging and guiding him, the other held his own hand firm against her breast, soft through her shirt, her racing heart beating against his palm.

He could not have said how long it was until she came that first time, until she closed her eyes and let out a silent sigh followed by a breathless thanks. Then after a moment of hesitation, "kiss me again."

Legs protesting, knees popping, he stood up, guided by her hand still nestled in his hair until he stood face to face with her again. His chin was wet, he realized. He must be reeking with her. Then her fingers tightened in his hair and he forgot his smell and his aching legs because her tongue was in his mouth, tasting herself with surprising voracity.

"Can we go to the bedroom?" He heard her ask when his mind was his own again.

Without waiting for a response, she took his hand. He let himself be led, through the hallway, through the cardboard sea, mesmerized by the movement of her legs, of her butt, of the dimples disappearing and reappearing where the two met.

She stopped just beside the bed where he had frantically been changing the linens not an hour earlier. Facing away from him, she pulled off her shirt, revealing a sports bra, wide straps crossing behind her back.

He moved up behind her. Wet pubic hairs brushed his hands as he cradled her belly, its satisfying geometry fitting perfectly into the shape of his hands, rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing.

Pulling her close he nestled into her neck, felt another twitch in his erection. Giggling in response, she again firmly grasped his wrists, this time there was force and purpose as she pressed his palms against her bra.

He kissed her neck and shoulders, along her bra straps. Squeezed her breasts through the thin, sleek, fabric of her bra. Felt her nipples stiffen against his palms. Nibbled her earlobe. Drew in the warm, now familiar, scent he couldn't get enough of. Found small release as he rubbed his erection against her skin through his pants. Listened to her noises of pleasure, echoing his own.

The moment ended as she moved away from him, turned to face him, naked except for her bra. If there had been a part of him capable of rational thought, he might have wondered what had happened to her socks.

The tension at the base of his belly was becoming unbearable as her eyes bored into his, held his stare fixed, kept it from wandering. "So." Her face contorted into a grimace of mock-indignation. "Am I the only one who's supposed to be naked around here?" It wasn't until she started impatiently undressing him that he realized he had still been fully clothed.

He had changed into clean clothes and a pair of unused underwear, mindful of the fact that they might need to pass close inspection. This turned out to be unfounded: she was almost tearing them off, hands seemingly working every part of his body at once.

Once he was naked she pulled the covers off the bed and motioned towards it. "Gentlemen first."

Fuck, she's sexy.

He laid down, the sheets cold against his back and butt. The bed creaked and shifted and then she was on top of him, heavy and warm, pulling the blankets to cover them completely. A rustle of cloth and then her hand popped out, dropping her bra on the floor. Next came her smiling face. He felt her hands guide him, her weight settle on him, the strain of his foreskin pulling back.

Another perfect moment, suspended between them. Again resisting the urge, enjoying the moment before the moment. Enjoying the sensation of simply, finally, impossibly being inside her. Enjoying the warmth of her breath against his neck. The smoothness of her skin. The firmness of her hips and the ridges of her back. The softness of her thighs and of her bare breasts. Her teeth on his earlobe and his fingers closing on her nipple as they lay naked and still, breathing, skin against skin.

Then her hips were moving and all resistance became impossible. The wetness of her tongue moved from neck to mouth to chest. Fingers dug into his shoulders and arms. Teeth bit into his ears and nipples, waves of pleasure rolled over him, making him cry out, groan, catch his breath.

She grabbed his wrists, pulled them above his head, pinned them to the headboard, short nails digging into his skin. Her face hovered inches above his, speaking between heavy breaths. "Now you're mine." She stuck out her tongue in a grimace so out of place in its goofiness that he couldn't help but smile.

For a quick moment, she looked earnest. "Your smile is so fucking pretty." Then she slid out of the covers, placing her breast onto his face. Her nipple tickled his lips, waited for him to respond.

It was firm and rubbery as he took it between his lips, her breast soft as it pushed against his face, matching the rhythm of her grinding hips. Like her almost wordless sounds of pleasure matched the rhythm of his sucking, kissing, gently pressing her nipple between his lips.

Then she rose up, eyes closed, inhibition and self-consciousness forgotten as she gave herself fully to pleasure. A trail of spittle connected his tongue to her nipple, then broke off. Hands still pinned to the headboard, he could only look at her, finally take her her in in her totality. Completely naked. The culmination of decades of longing, of a hundred different ways he had imagined this moment. A yellowing bruise on her full thighs, working furiously. Her belly, that cute muffin top over her tuft of pubic hair, shifting with her movements. Freckles across her small breasts, sagging slightly with age, rising and falling with her breath, one still wet with his spit. So like and so unlike anything from his imagination, with an unmistakeable her-ness that made it all perfect.

He couldn't help himself. "You're so fucking sexy."

For a moment they were both frozen, her body weighing down on his hips, his hands still pressed against the headboard. She opened her eyes and looked down on him, startled. "Am I?" The bed creaked in protest as she shifted her weight again. His heart was pounding but now for all the wrong reasons. Had he fucked this up again? Insulted her again and now she would leave him alone in his bed, naked and ashamed?

Then her tongue was in his mouth and everything was right. Her grip on his wrists tightened, fingers pressing against bone. Her breath came in heavy bursts, warm in his mouth, tasting of coffee and toothpaste of her own pussy. Her smell was overwhelming. He was growing light-headed, warmth radiating from the base of his stomach, the world falling away as she fucked him. Hard and fast with wet, slapping noises.

Moments later she breathed a muffled a cry into his mouth, released his wrists and collapsed on top of him, shaking, breathing into his ear. Then they lay almost still, only her hips moving slowly.

"Look at me." He opened his eyes. Her gaze was filled with contentedness. "You know..." She paused, smiling at his pleasured sigh as the dizzying sensation finally enveloped him, then she continued. "I think I needed to hear that more than I knew."

He smiled back. In time he hoped she would even come to believe it.