Claire laughed. “You’re welcome, I guess.” She stood, climbing off his lap.
Simon felt squidgy in his shorts and must have pulled a face. “Do you want to clean up?” Claire asked him. He nodded and headed into her ensuite.
He spent a few minutes mopping himself with a flannel, trying to clear as much of the slime from his dick and out of his pubes as he could. The boxers were a goner; going commando was alien to his nature but he didn’t want them against his skin anymore. The denim felt rough against his dick, but he thought he’d be okay.
But when he emerged, he realised he’d made a huge mistake. Claire lay on her stomach across the bed, propping herself up on her elbows so her boobs just rested against the mattress. Her shorts were gone; Simon gawped at the black lace thong that curved across the small of her back only to disappear between the perfect globes of her ass. She kicked her feet in the air, watching him. Fuck, he muttered under his breath.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Uh huh,” he said, eyes on stalks, taking in her perfect figure. He watched as she rolled over, sat up, got to her feet, and started to prowl towards him. The lace made a perfect V, highlighting her pierced navel, and acted as an arrow pointing to her most private parts. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding in his throat.
“Bet you’ve never seen a naked girl before.”
“Mmmm. The only woman I’ve seen nude in real life is my mother.”
“Ewww, gross!”
“Oh god no, not like that. It’s not like I was spying on her or anything. But she was never prudish. When I was younger, she’d let us in the room when she was having a bath, so she could watch us play. That sort of thing.”
“Whatever. I think we both need to wipe that image from our brains.” She stroked her breasts, ran her hands down her hourglass waist and hips. “I need you,” she said, beckoning him towards her almost naked body. Simon found he couldn’t move; he no longer knew how to work his legs.
“I… I can’t…”
She dialled down the eroticism a notch, reached for his arm, stroked him.
“You don’t want to have sex with me?”
She turned and walked towards the bed. He watched her peachy ass bounce a little as she sashayed across the carpet, as she knelt on the bed and presented that perfect posterior to his lustful gaze. The fabric of the thong over her pussy was so wet it was practically sheer.
You did that to her, his libido proudly declared. Look at her. The bitch is on heat, she’s gagging for it. Look how the thong matches the bra; and you know what it means when that happens – she planned this all along! Tear that thing off her and take her rough and hard. It’s what she wants, she as much as said so. Look how she’s prowling onto the bed, watching you over her shoulder, waiting for you to take her!
But of course, he couldn’t. Partly he was too scared to. But mostly this wasn’t how he wanted his first time to go. It should be a magical memory – making love, not animalistic fucking.
“Yes. No. I mean… I want to.” I’ve spent years fantasising about this moment. But now it’s here, he was freezing with fear, just like he had when she was going to give him that blowjob. It was like Sandy Shores arcade girl, all over again. “But I… I can’t. Not like this. It’s too much, too soon. I’m not ready. Please don’t hate me.”
“Oh Simon, you’re so sweet. I don’t hate you, don’t be silly. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
The silence stretched out too long, became awkward. Simon sensed there was something yet left unsaid.
“But…?” he hinted.
She wiggled her ass.
“No, not butt! You’ve got something to say, please say it.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, patted the mattress next to her. “It’s not important really.” Simon looked at her, knowing that wasn’t true, waiting for her to say what was on her mind. “Okay, here it is. I’m so fucking horny. I’ve not been with anyone, you know, for weeks – not since we started having these sessions. That’s a long, long time for me. And we were having an amazing sexy time, really getting into it. And now you’ve come… but I haven’t.”
His eyes flicked across her body. She was right. It wasn’t fair. “What can I do?”
She smiled, eyes twinkling, and she leaned back against the headboard. “Come and sit beside me,” she beckoned. “Now, can you promise me something?”
“Name it, anything.”
“I need you to do exactly what I say. Exactly, understood? Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious. You might want to do more, go faster, harder, or change things up when we get started. Whatever you do, don’t do that. Just follow my lead.”
Simon nodded.
“Right. Give me your hand.” She propped her feet up on the mattress, legs spread. He looked down at the delicate lace framing the soft pliant void between her thighs. Watched as she took his hand, placed it on her thigh, drew it across her skin and onto the satin. He could feel her centre, hot against his fingers, damp even through the material. She shuddered at his touch; his cock scraped painfully across the inside of his denim shorts as he returned to full hardness.
Something primal inside called to him, demanding he tear that fabric aside and plunge his fingers into her depths. But he remembered her instructions.
“Here,” she said, drawing his hand up towards her abdomen, letting his fingers trail across her lips. He could feel her entrance, felt a button pressing against the material. She lay her fingers exactly across his, showed him how to press, how to circle his fingers, when to curl and when to stroke, how to glide over the slippery satin.
He watched his hand under hers for a while, then ran his eyes across her body – up her taut abdomen, across her chest which rose and fell with her heavy breathing, her boobs rocking on her ribcage, nipples hard with excitement. Looked at her face, her eyes closed, her mouth open, as she concentrated on the sensations, the pleasure.
I’m doing that to her, he realised. Sure, she’s showing me how, but it’s my fingers stroking her clit and her lips. She curled her fingertips, pushing his fingers into the satin, pressing inside her slightly. Circling then tickling her clit.
There was no rush, no time, just pleasure. Just the two of them, in the moment.
“Kiss me,” she breathed. Simon leant over, brushed his lips over hers. “No, properly,” she demanded, opening her lips to his. Terrified but eager, he slid his tongue forward between her moist lips and began to stroke inside her mouth, as she had to him earlier. And all the time, she was directing his hand over her centre. Mimicking the movement of his tongue with his fingers.
Claire was struggling to think; Simon’s fingers were dancing across her pussy, and she sucked on his tongue, daydreaming about him choking her with that fat dick she’d felt through their shorts. And there it was, the orgasm unstoppably approaching. She broke off the kiss, to catch her breath and prepare herself.
“Oh god, oh god, here it comes…” she warned. “Don’t stop, don’t change, do it just like that, exactly like that,” she ordered, as Simon worked his hand over the sodden underwear. Abruptly, her back jerked and her eyes flashed open. “Fuck, fuck, I’m coming! Stop, stop, too much,” she said, clasping his hand over her pussy.