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He moaned and cursed, then started praising, growing harder by the second in my curious hand.
“No,” I finally answered. “Actually I think I’m becoming obsessed.” I squeezed his tip experimentally. “With this.”
“Let’s go to your room,” he murmured thickly, hands still at my breasts, kneading. I swear he’d have played with them every hour of the day if it were possible. He was at least as obsessed with those as I was with his newly discovered sex.
I was intimidated but I didn’t protest. I needed something more. More touching. More of his naked skin on my naked skin. Something. Anything. I couldn’t have walked away then if I tried.
When we got into my room, he moved to the foot of my bed. His jeans were still undone, but he’d tucked himself away, and as I watched, he zipped and buttoned them closed. After seeing him bare, I wondered how he even fit into his pants.
“Take off your shorts,” he told me softly, eyes on my large, trembling breasts. “And come here.”
I tried to do both at the same time, fumbling at the button of my cutoffs and moving to stand between his sprawling legs.
With a moan he started sucking at one of my nipples, his hands going to help me.
“I’m not ready to go all the way,” I told him breathlessly. I didn’t want him to think I was a tease.
Well, at least not a tease that wasn’t being honest with him.
“I know, angel,” he said with his lips still on me. “I just want to touch you, okay? I want to take care of you like you took care of me.”
I moaned and wiggled out of my shorts, but I left my panties on because I couldn’t imagine getting naked in front of him just like that.
He left them on, his fingers playing with my sex first over the material, and then he was pulling it aside and pushing into me.
I gasped. It was such a shocking sensation that I couldn’t imagine ever getting used to it.
He didn’t seem to notice my reluctance, his whole being concentrated on feeling me with his fingers.
“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he groaned into my chest.
My knees were going weak as what he was doing to me started an ache inside of me that I didn’t know how to relieve.
“I want to lie down,” I told him.
He moaned and I crawled onto the bed. When I was on my back, he started pulling down my panties.
I stopped him, I don’t even know why, instinctually, I suppose, but he just paused, bent, and started sucking on my nipple, then began to pull them down again.
When he had me completely naked, he sat up at my hip and started playing with me again, his eyes intent on what he was doing.
I squirmed. I needed something, I wasn’t sure what, but he wasn’t doing it. He was jerking his finger in and out of me, his breath ragged, his eyes looking like he was about to lose it again.
“It’s too much,” I told him. “The pressure’s too much.”
His hand froze. “What should I do?” he asked, looking as lost as I was.
“It just . . . hurts. Your finger’s too big.”
He looked horrified. “My finger’s too big?”
I thought about this. “That’s never going to fit inside of me.”
Something happened to his face, it fell and lifted as a shudder wracked through him. “Jesus.” He pulled his finger out of me with a curse. “Fuck. I need to go to the bathroom again.”
I sat up and stayed him with my hand. “Don’t. Stay here. I want to see.”
“I don’t want to freak you out.”
