An adult stories – Show Me by ajmafterhours,ajmafterhours When the car comes to a stop outside of my building, you are first to jump out and rush to open my door. I blush at your eagerness and chivalry, but wonder which one drives you most. Rain hisses against the pavement. It hasn’t rained in weeks, yet this evening’s sky was swollen with grey clouds that kept us apprehensive all night. It started to pour only minutes ago, while you and I built invisible shackles on ourselves during this drive, valiantly fighting off our lust for each other. I open up my umbrella and emerge onto the sidewalk, and you cradle my arm on the way inside, like the gentleman you want me to believe you are.
In the elevator, you press me against the wall and slide your hand up my dress. Can you feel how much I want you? But above that, I need you. I need you to make me feel something tonight. I’ve spent this year forlorn, devoid of my existence since the divorce, so desperate to be reminded I’m alive, that I’ve let that man climb back into my bed at his whim, even after the papers were signed.
Show me I’m worth more than that, Roman.
Show me I can still be desired, that my sex is more than my obligation. Show me that you’re worthy of the eden between my legs. Show me that I’m worthy of admiration again, worthy of your affection, worthy of earth-shattering pleasure.
Be earth-shattering, Love.
Even as your hand finds my panties, even as I crave the feel of you inside of me, I’m lonely. I’m terrified of the aftermath; of you zipping up your pants and leaving me alone while my heart still races and my body still aches for yours.
Who knew I would be so grateful for a door between us; you ready yourself by my bed and I gather my resolve in the bathroom mirror. In my head, I arrange all the ways I can make myself special for you; a normal rendezvous would be thoughtless for me, but someone’s first? Have I ever been someone’s first?
I undress down to nothing and unpin my hair, and slip on my robe. Twisting and viewing myself in the mirror, I glide my hands over my skin, as if to smooth any lines, any imperfections, any suggestion of the mistakes I’ve made, or who I am outside of a bedroom. I want to be perfect for you.
I switch off the light and stride out of the bathroom. My black robe drapes, unbelted; the silk barely covers my breasts, for what better way to introduce you to my body. I love the idea of you getting glimpses of my most intimate possession in the shadows of my clothing. You stare.
You’ve started to undress, but you’re not finished: “You’re still wearing your pants, Love.”
You blush and stammer. “I’m sorry, I– I wasn’t sure if I should–”
“Oh, you’re more than welcome to keep them on,” I tease. “But I assure you it will be much more fun if you take them off.”
We laugh gently. You have such a warm, robust laugh. I find myself admiring you; your sweetness and shyness, surely, but also your body which defies all that. In soft, flickering candlelight, I see your truth. You’re an athlete– I hadn’t known before. You are remarkably toned, your arms show strength that your starched shirts and woolen jackets hide. I find my hands carefully touching your chest– is it alright if I touch you? I lift my head and you kiss me; with great vigor and then restraint. It’s not long enough.
Your smile is reticent, and so I take your hands and move them under my robe, to my curves. You rest them on my hips and sigh heavily. I smile to you when our eyes meet; “My body is free to explore, Roman. Touch me wherever you want to.”
You exhale a noise; a shudder of affirmation, before you move your hands up… to my breasts.
Of course.
You try to be gentle, but you’re too eager. You go for my nipples and get much more enjoyment out of the twisting than I do. But then you come forward and press your mouth to my neck; covering it with hot, greedy kisses and I shiver with delight.
Your voice is rigid in my ear: “God, you smell so good.”
I smirk. “I taste good too.”
You weaken against me before you come up for air. My neck is cool from your kisses. Your eyes are untamed and full of boyish glee. I tilt my head, curious.
“Have you ever tasted a woman, Love?”
Silence. You swallow and shake your head.
I hold your gaze as I pull back my robe and lift my knee, anchoring my heel into the bed beside us. “Go ahead if you like.”
The firmness of my voice doesn’t make it sound like it’s optional.
You sink to the ground in front of me. I close my eyes. I want to be a feast for your senses. I want to be the altar you pray at, that you kneel before and revere. I want to be worshipped and adored. Worship and adore me… and start with your tongue.
Your fingers touch; they don’t quite know what to do. But your mouth, it knows. I exhale and slip my fingers into your hair, and grip those downy locks harder when your tongue glides effortlessly over the divinity between my thighs. “Yes, just like that, Love…”
Your hands slide up to my backside. They squeeze and grip what they can. Your excitement amuses me. I love that you’re excited over my body. Your fingers press into my wetness– I want you inside of me. But you’re nervous and you don’t push further, leaving me aggrieved over an unfulfilled ache.
I beckon you to stand again, and I can’t stop myself from kissing you. I’m ravenous for your mouth, for your youth, for your sex. Like gravity is pulling it, my hips grind to yours. You bulge against me, straining in your trousers. I reach for your belt and tug– let it out. Let me see you. Let me touch you, let me– a couple of clinks and your buckle is undone.
Your pants fall to your ankles and I take you in my hand, slowly gliding up and down your erection. You groan through our kiss. I love having this power over you.
I break our kiss and look down at my hand while it pleases you. I’m surprised by my boldness; I don’t usually get on my knees for new lovers, but I’m moved to. And so I whisper; “Do you want my mouth on you?”
You’re trembling; you pinch your eyes shut. “Oh, god.”
I’ll take that as a yes.
I continue to stroke you as I lower myself to my knees; the soft shag of the rug crushes underneath me. Leisurely, I trail my lips down your hardness and paint my tongue over your ridge before taking you slowly into my mouth. I keep my sucking light and careful; we don’t need you getting ahead of yourself after all. I feel you tense and grow all the more hard and I reach up towards your abdomen, my nails cling to your skin.
Your voice turns brittle: “Oh, God, Ms. Whitney.”
My chuckle hums around your shaft. You reach for something; your hand falls on my shoulder. The slickness between my legs is suddenly distracting me; I can think of nothing more than what you will feel like in there. It becomes quite apparent that we best move this forward, for both our sakes.
I take as much of you as my mouth will allow and pull back; then again, and once more… before making one last deliberate journey to the very edge, taking a salty drop of your anticipation with me.
I break contact, dab the corner of my mouth with my finger and tilt my head up to look at you. You’re sweating and breathing in little shallow huffs.
I wink. “I think it’s time now, Love, don’t you?”
You shudder and nod.
I rise to my feet, reach onto the nightstand and hand you the little square wrapper you took from your wallet earlier. Quickly, you take it. I ask gingerly, “Do you need me to–?”
You shake your head; “N-no, I can.”
I feel the corner of my mouth twist into a smirk. “Go ahead. Then just lay down.”
You sit on the edge of the bed. I watch you open the foil as I remove my robe. You fumble at first, but then you manage just fine. Well, at least you know how to put on a condom.
When you’re ready, you lay back on my duvet and turn your gaze to me. You stare at my breasts, and then much lower. I’m confident in my body, but I can’t stop the wary vulnerability that takes over when being viewed naked by somebody new.
I exhale my inhibitions and ascend the bed. Your eyes flit about when I straddle you, and I lower myself into your kiss. My breasts brush against your chest; my pelvis against yours. A thrilling current surges from all the parts where you and I touch. How is skin on skin so electrifying? Like bodies are wholly made to meet at the flesh. Has it just been this long since I’ve been with anyone? Or is your skin simply the perfect igniter for my own?
Our tongues duel feverishly; your eagerness presses up against mine and I instinctively begin moving myself against you. Within moments, our kiss and our lechery leave us gasping against each other’s mouths. Parts of us are still desperate to connect.
“Are you ready, Love? Can we start like this?”
“Yeah, I’m ready,” your voice warbles. My heart is pounding.
I sit back and lift myself to my knees, reach low between us and carefully guide you inside of me. I gasp and tremble as you fill me– it’s been a decade since I’ve felt anyone new. And you are unmistakably new. You are unmistakably not him. You are you, you are inside me and you are magnificent.
You grasp at my thighs. I move up and down until our bodies have settled together; no friction, just delicious gliding. When we move together smoothly, everything intensifies.
To think of us hours ago, kindly reacquainted at your parents’ party, to furiously writhing on my bed; desperate for connection, for pleasure, for release.
How did we get here, Love?
I move back and forth, undulating my hips along the shape of you. You grunt, but my head is tossed back and I’m still catching my breath from the unfamiliar fullness inside of me, so I turn my attention back to you. You squirm underneath me.
“How do I feel for you?” I whisper with a shameless grin.
You exhale loudly. “Holy shit, amazing.”
I curl my smile deeper. “And you feel amazing inside of me.”
Your eyes dance with ardor and ecstasy. The fact that I have anything at all to do with that excites me to no end. I bite my lip to curb a smirk. My hand is already low on my torso; your eyes become fixated on it. I breathe deeply.
“I’m going to touch myself, Love– do you want to watch?”
A guttural response. You nod without hesitation.
I move my hand lower, slide my middle finger onto my clit, and slowly circle over it. Bliss radiates all the way down my legs and I moan.
You inhale. “Good God that’s hot.”
A laugh breaks through my susurration. “You like that?”
“Yeah.”
“I enjoy turning you on.”
You chuckle, but you’re tensing, shaking underneath me. I fear this might be too much too soon.
“You’re doing wonderfully, Roman. Do you think you can keep going for a while longer?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
“Alright.” I keep my voice soft, then gently slide off of you. “I’m going to lie on my back now. You’ll be more in control.”
I sense your nervousness, but you follow my lead as I lay back against the sheets. I cradle my head against a pillow and open my knees to you. Your eyes ask for guidance. I reach for your face and you lean in to kiss me, timidly pressing your body into mine.
“It’s alright, go ahead now,” I breathe into our kiss.
You brace yourself with one arm, look down and reach for yourself. For a moment, the edge of you teases my entrance and I am both amused and desperate. Finally, you push completely into me and I whimper; the sensation is brand new all over again like this.
It’s taken your breath away too; you collect your restraint before gently thrusting… once… twice. Then several more times, until you pick up speed and my body hoists with your effort. I roll my pelvis to meet you. I can’t control what it does; it craves the ecstasy of you sliding in and out of me. You bring my hands over my head and clasp my fingers in yours, engulfing my mouth with your wild, thrashing tongue. I bend my knees and press them against you, sure that they will never let you leave my body. You had wanted me to be your first, but am I selfish for enjoying that I am? For enjoying your youth, your enthusiasm and your reticence. How smug I am knowing no one but me has known the joys of your body.
Just when we have settled into our new roles, you grow still. I am still trying to meet you when I realize you’re staring at me. I stop my movement and revel in your sweet gaze and the thrill of gently squeezing myself around you. You make me feel divine.
You wait; the two of us just silently interlocked, and then you smile. And your smile is so genuine and youthful; your cheeks flushed rosy and your temples glistening. In an instant, my heart sinks. To think once this is over, this feeling may end. You’ll be through with me. And you’ll leave. And I’ll be alone. I’ve opened my body to you, given myself away, and I’ll be left alone.
Your hand touches my face, your thumb lovingly strokes my chin, my lower lip. I wake from my downward stare and look to you. Your smile beams as you let out an animated chuckle.
“God, Ms. Whitney, you’re so–”
I roll my eyes; “You can’t be calling me that while you’re shtupping me.”
I try to smile beyond my annoyance. You buy it.
“Sorry,” you say, grinning. “I mean… Diana.”
It’s the first time you’ve said my name, and how lovely it is to hear it. It’s so fresh and new sounding when you say it.
“You’re– you’re just so beautiful.”
Stillness. Thunder booms outside. Or is it just my heart thumping in my ears? I could list off all the times I’ve heard that word aimed towards me; but never in this context.
“You’re beautiful on stage. You’re a beautiful dancer. That dress is beautiful on you.”
Always with conditions. Not while making love– not while gazing at me, touching my face. I’m not beautiful.
Before I can grow embarrassed of my foolishness, you lean down and overtake me with a kiss; it is heavy and determined– and daring! In an instant, your mouth has abandoned mine and found my breast. I go limp for one joyous moment, before the desperation becomes too much and I begin to rock myself over you again.
“Roman, please…” I plead.
You heed my begging and resume your sweet impalement of me. I grip your arms; your muscles flexing and tightening under my hands. Each time your hips pivot, I’m left breathless. I much prefer being on top, but I am elated now, pinned down into the mattress, at your mercy as you gain confidence and momentum.
Your kisses run wild over my jaw and to my neck where you bury your face under my hair; nibble at my skin. The bed quakes underneath me. Perhaps the whole world is quaking at this moment.
We are synchronized in our cloud dance. The room fills with our moans and our convulsing breaths, until everything fades away and it is only us, devouring each other on this shuddering islet of a bed, high above a rainy city.
Your skin turns slick with sweat. I’m perspiring behind my knees, my back, the nape of my neck. And then that deep hidden flame ignites. Oh, Love, it’s there, you’re magnificent to have reached it. I tame the fire so we can keep going. But there’s been a shift in you; you press on but you’ve turned very quiet and I feel how much you’re holding back. Our hearts beat rapidly against each other. I pull away to catch your eyes again. You’re incredibly focused.
“Are you close?” I whisper.
You grit your teeth. “Mm.”
I smile through my heavy breaths. “So am I.”
You hesitate. We dare not kiss now. I slow my movements, and you shudder.
“Can we finish the way I like it?”
Wide-eyed, you nod.
I wriggle myself from under your body, then turn away from you as I rise to my knees. When I sit up and wrap my hands over the headboard edge, a feeble groan escapes your lips. I smirk and look back at you over my shoulder.
“Come now, don’t keep me waiting.”
Your response is delayed. You come forward, put your arms around me, kiss the back of my neck. I weaken against the bed frame. The entire front of you presses against the entire back of me and my hunger for you has reached its highest threshold. I reach behind to stroke you, then tilt my head back to kiss you. The angle is wrong, so our mouths meet messily, hastily. But this time, you do not hesitate. You thrust your hips forward and enter me fiercely; I gasp against your mouth.
Our kiss disintegrates under my cries. I think you love knocking the breath out of me. You drive with such force until I white-knuckle the headboard. I think my panting excites you; it seems to propel you further, until my gasps turn to growls and your own grunts echo behind my ear with every plunge.
You pull me closer, spread your hands over my breasts. I move my body with yours; quicker and quicker until the bed rattles and threatens to crush my fingers against the wall. But I’m in no state to even concern myself with that. I’m aching for relief. I need the relief.
I can barely speak; “Hold on for me, Love–” I beg. “It will only take me a minute.”
I slip my hand between my legs again. I’m so wet, my fingers spiral effortlessly over my clit. In an instant, the rhapsody begins in my core, a deep rumbling of unrivaled pleasure begins to make waves.
“Faster, Roman.”
You bury yourself in me again and again, as if burrowing your way into my soul.
My knees tremble and I’m perspiring and paralyzed. I can’t catch my breath, I just ride the waves of anticipation as they come, hone in on the glorious ravage you’re committing on my body. Your hands on my breasts, your mouth on my skin, your grunts in my ear. My core is a volcano. The molten center rises and my voice trills: “Ohhh, Roman, I’m coming…”
Everything tremors. You thrust again and I gush around you with one giant burst. A moan unfurls from my throat.
An earth-shattering cataclysm. My body erupts with crashing waves, bliss cascades out to my fingers and toes. I black out and succumb. My limbs go slack; the surges ripple through me, unbridled. My flesh, my bones, my soul all destroyed into vibrating fragments of electricity.
Creaking. Shaking. Gasping. Moaning.
Your body jerks. Your moan is muffled against my shoulder. You slam into me again and again, bucking inside of me as you come. Your hands squeeze my breasts; you’ve lost control yourself. I melt against the bed frame, savoring the slow retreat of orgasm.
I wait, panting and spent, until your body and your groans become still. How I long to view your face while you’re in the throws of ecstasy, but I’m entirely too weak to turn around. And how spectacular this weakness is. It’s only when your body suggests that you’re about to pull out, that I quickly clutch your hand back against my breast and forbid you to move.
“Not yet, Love, please. I just want to feel you for a moment more…”
You pull me close, pry me from the headboard, and I sink back against you. You breathe heavily against my neck. Your hand drops from my breast to my thigh, and I move it without thought, to between my legs. Feel what you’ve done to me… Your fingers spread, and gently tease, galvanizing pleasure to my fingertips over and over again.
Breathless, I whisper; “My god, Roman, you are marvelous.”
Rain batters the roof above us. Under it, you pant in my ear; “You’re the sexiest, most beautiful, most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”
I grin, quite pleased by that sentiment.
When my legs finally regain the strength to move, I do so reluctantly. I roll away from you and reach onto the nightstand for a cigarette. I enjoy it quietly while I watch the rain bead against the window. You’ve turned silent too. You quietly ask for the tissues on the surface next to me and then I hold up the wastebasket so you can toss the cleanup. I realize you may leave any minute now. And my mood turns from elated to sullen. I slide the basket back under the table and pull the sheets up around my chest.
Perhaps you’ve sensed the shift in me; “Are you okay?” you ask quietly.
I quickly flash a smile to you and nod. Then I flick my cigarette on the ashtray edge. I keep a low gaze on you. “How on earth did you manage all that on your first time, Love? I do hope you weren’t spinning tales for me.”
“No, I swear,” you grin sheepishly.
“Then what’s your secret?”
You hesitate. “Lots of… solo practice.”
A moment. I break into a quick laugh. “Well, it’s paid off,” I say, setting my cigarette into the ashtray. “You know your body very well.”
“I think you know yours very well too.”
“What can I say?” I playfully tousle my hair. “I’ve also had a lot of solo practice.”
You laugh, and I echo it. You settle under the sheets, put your hands behind your head and lean back, quite comfortable. I watch you closely.
You’re not leaving.
I resist for a moment, but then I sink down next to you and you eagerly slide your arm under my head. Your body next to mine is exquisite all on its own…
“You know,” I sigh, “With your first time being so… amazingly satisfactory…” I wink.
You giggle.
“Well, I do hope you might like to keep practicing with me.” I tease you with a smirk.
Your laugh is giddy. “Oh my god, yeah.”
I think you’re quite thrilled by the idea, your body twitches with excitement for a moment before you settle back down. I trace my finger over your chest, down the definition of your pectorals. Your skin is smooth, tan, and lingers with cologne and adventurous sweat. I breathe you in. You smell like sandalwood and sex.
I can’t help it. I brace myself for the question, and for the answer. “Will you stay the night, Love?”
I’ve tossed it out of nowhere, so hastily. I grimace at myself. What a fool. And damn it, you say nothing. For too long, you’re quiet.
“I mean, I was thinking you might like another go in the morning?” I continue quickly, then raise my eyes to meet yours. Your gaze has softened. You’ve seen right through me. You may be inexperienced in some things, but your wisdom makes up for it. You know what today is, you know I’m lonely even if I refuse to admit it to you. I gave myself away at the party, in the cab, in the elevator, when I walked out of the bathroom earlier. I gave myself away when I threw my body at your youth. Someone like you, dewy-eyed and willing to admire me, worship me. Willing to show me I’m worth admiration. Because I ache for that. You can hear me silently begging, can’t you? Silently begging; please don’t leave me alone tonight…
You lean in to kiss me, and your damp lips cling to mine, until it is painful for them to separate again. You roll towards my body, pull me into a vigorous embrace. Your arms resolve to prove they are both gentle and trustworthy, until there is no way I can doubt what you say to me.
A flash of lightning brightens the room, followed by rolling thunder that rattles the windows and reverberates in my chest. You kiss me over and over.
“I’m not going anywhere, Diana.”