If she were being honest with herself, she'd have to say it started with them mostly out of convenience. She was lonely and he was available and willing. Maybe he was lonely too. He was an old friend with some free time. They used to say, "Hey want to get together and have a beer?" Sometimes they finished that beer and sometimes not. It was never about the beer.
But from the first time she gave in to his question - "Why not? Who's it going to hurt?" - she couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop imagining what they would do the next time they got together. What he would ask for, what she would say, how it would feel, how long she could make him last… That very first time, he'd gotten her off more times than she could count, and she was hooked.
On nights when he wasn't around, she'd lie in bed, touching herself with eyes closed and making up scenarios - different places and positions. She'd wonder what it would feel like if he touched her here, like she was touching herself, or what if he fucked her like that? If she bent her leg over one way, or lay on her side another way, would that enhance the rush of feeling him surge inside of her? By the time she saw him again, she'd have lots of ideas she was eager to try with him.
He always wanted pretty much the same from her. He could only bear to kiss her with her clothes on for a few minutes before begging her permission for what he wanted most. She would nod or just smile, and that was that. She always said yes, usually without a word. His hands flew to undress her, then to guide her to the edge of the bed, the counter, the table - whatever was handy - so he could plunge his mouth into her and kiss, suck and lick her into a frenzy as quickly as possible.
He was good at it. No aimless wandering or wondering for him - he knew right where the action was at, and he went straight for the money every time. That surprised her the first time, but now she expected it. She never stopped loving it.
She got turned on as soon as she heard his voice, anticipating his mouth on her at the sound. Sometimes his truck in the driveway was enough to get her going. When he got in the door, she'd greet him and try to act as casual as possible - inevitably offering him a beer and inviting him to sit in the kitchen. He'd look at her and wonder if she had underwear on. She'd ask him how was his day, but secretly, silently, she was wondering if he was hard yet.
She'd stand too close, making sure he could smell her, but pretending indifference about whether he'd touch her. She'd lean over him to look into the fridge or remove some irrelevant object from the table. She'd wait, feeling his eyes caress her slim body. She'd pretend they were just the old chums they used to be and quietly anticipate his first touch.
His hands would come to rest gently on her hips, asking. A sigh, almost a moan escaped her then, and she'd turn to him to kiss him where he sat. And so it began every time. She smiled at the deliciousness of that moment. It was the promise for the rest of the night.
She reached to massage his crotch, feeling him swelled and hard against her palm as they kissed. She perched on his lap and slid her hips up his thighs, massaging him with her hand as she did, suggesting what she wanted and giving him a chance to think about it. His fingers sought out her waist, unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, slid inside, and he felt her hot juices as they ran down her leg. His fingers played in her pants while he smiled and tried to keep kissing her.
This moment lasted only briefly. He wanted more. He wanted to taste her and he didn't want to wait if he didn't have to. He pulled back and said, "Uh, how about we get out of this chair and you let me go down on you?" She grinned wide at him and stood up, awaiting his direction. He'd guide her to his place of choice and eagerly tug her jeans off before he set her where he wanted.
As soon as she felt his breath on her wet lips, she began to writhe with excitement. She pushed her pussy into his mouth and slid her hips side to side, the best she could, the most she could, every time. She was only limited by whatever surface he had chosen to perch her on. A tile counter was tricky - the edge of a bed gave her more options.
Whenever she could, she would reach for his head and grab his hair and pull him deeper and closer and more and faster. She would beg for him to fuck her with his fingers at the same time. He might agree and oblige her right away, or might make her wait, depending on his mood. It was always just right. He could read her better than she could read herself sometimes, and he got her off like no other man ever did.
With him, she knew she'd come at least a few times before he'd want to fuck her. Getting off first made her tighter inside and so wet, he could pound away at her as hard as he liked for as long as he liked, with whatever he liked. He could do whatever turned him on, and he could take his time about getting to her with his dick. She would stay wet and willing and ready forever until he was done, too.
When they were both finally spent, they'd lie together and laugh about the whole thing - about everything, really. How funny life was, to throw them together the way it had, about the evening news, about the latest gossip among mutual friends. Sometimes they'd have the beer they had talked about and laugh over that, too.
But eventually their relationship kind of shifted, like relationships usually do. The two of them settled into favorites. Was it because they only had a short time on a given night, or because they were habituated or just because a favorite is a favorite? It's the thing you want the most by its very definition, after all… She didn't know why, but she did know what her favorite thing had become. And it was something she would never anticipated at the start…
She craved to get past all the playing around, to put him in her mouth and suck him to climax.
Always before, giving head had been one of her least favorite things. She was built small, and that included her mouth and her throat. Whenever she went down on a man, she felt like she was going to choke. She would threaten him before the act, "If you so much as touch my head while I'm sucking you, I'll bite your dick off!" The guys always promised not to, but then did it anyway, grabbing her by the hair and shoving themselves deeper in, too excited to help themselves.
The sensation of drowning, or more specifically of being carelessly drowned by a man, panicked her and she'd pull away, party over. She hated it. She could never hate the guy who'd done it - she did understand about losing control - but she never was willing to try and blow him again. Panic is panic and it's a powerful buzz-kill.
But that's probably why it was so good now, with him. The first time he asked her to blow him, she had given him the usual warning. Instead of promises of 'I won't', he offered for her to tie his hands so she could feel entirely safe. She took him up on it, tied him securely, and took her sweet time going down.
It was beautiful. She paused often to just lick him - inner thighs, balls, lower belly, dick…fingers playing all over his sweaty skin, digging into his hips then tickling his pecs… she'd take him back into her mouth, sliding him in a leisurely rhythm in and out and side to side and deep then deeper and how deep did she dare to go? It drove him entirely crazy, and when he finally came in her mouth, she willingly swallowed.
He had given her this incredible gift, allowing her for the first time in her life to enjoy giving head. She craved the sensation of a mouth on her, so she had always wished she could give that back to her lover. Now she was finally able. She felt so excited by this new freedom, it was the thing she wanted to do for him the most. It had become her favorite. His favorite remained the same.
And so their passion became more or less of a wrestling match… He would arrive and bypass the kitchen completely. He'd pin her to the closest wall, pushing into her and kissing her mouth, hands seeking her pussy, wanting her naked as soon as possible. He craved her salty sweetness, ached for her to explode in his mouth… And she wished only for the strength to knock him down, hold him still, and get his dick into her own mouth.
They struggled physically, trying to pin each other down and take what each wanted. She couldn't out-muscle him, so she depended on outmaneuvering him. She'd go along and pretend she'd given up, but then tear herself away from his hungry mouth and refuse to let him have another taste until he allowed her to have one.
She'd refuse to be caught at all sometimes, driving him crazy with desire and frustration. She'd motion him to come over to her, then step away and dare him to try and get hold of her. She'd remove one piece of clothing at a time and toss it at him, teasing. She'd wriggle out of his grasp and dart just out of reach. That was the best - when he finally did catch her after all that teasing. He would dominate her almost angrily then, making her behave and submit at last.
The wilder the struggle for control at the start, the harder she came in the end. The more he had to wrestle to have her, the more brutal the passion he felt. She loved the game and was deeply addicted to playing it with him.
So their lovemaking became frantic and desperate, never losing the uncontrolled passion of the very first time. He almost always won the wrestling match, always when he was truly determined, and she didn't mind. But she never gave up showing her best effort just the same. It excited her that they had found such a rush in opposition. They struggled, they got off, they fucked, they got off some more, and then they laughed about all of it.
That was probably how it happened. She decided it must have been all the laughing that did it. She woke up one morning next to him, and rather than immediately considering how to wake him up and what to do with his hard on when she did, she just lay there and watched him breathing. She felt weak in the middle of her chest, letting herself feel the emotion that washed over her as his chest rose and settled. She suddenly realized that she loved him.
It startled her. She hadn't really seen it coming. She lay there and pondered this new realization, pondered him, and decided to tell him - sometime soon. For now, she gently climbed astride his sleeping body and slid her pussy up and down over his belly slowly, carefully, getting him sticky and wet, rousing him from his dreams. She reached her hand down and felt for his penis, waiting for the rush of blood to bring him to her as he became conscious.
She felt what she'd been waiting for within minutes, and eased him into her as she smiled and gently rocked. He opened his eyes for only a moment and smiled back, wordless and happy. He cupped her ass in his powerful hands and moved her as it pleased him, still half asleep and eyes closed. When he was fully awake, he rolled her over and fucked her gently until he came. The perfect start to the day…
She thought about him nonstop until the next time she saw him. When he came this time, she decided she would do everything differently. If it went well, she would tell him she loved him. If not, she'd keep it to herself and just enjoy the sex as she always had. She felt like a schoolgirl, inexplicably nervous but eager to find out which way it would go.
He came to the door, and she let him in. She was already naked, which took him by surprise. Having him just this much off balance gave her the advantage she'd been hoping for. He was one step in the door, and she kneeled in front of him. She looked up at his grinning face as she unzipped his pants and took his penis out. He said nothing. She said nothing.
She put him in her mouth and blew him where he stood. As he came, he made a quiet sound of satisfied relief, somewhere between a moan and a sob. His knees shook just a little and she felt his hands begin caressing her head, encouraging her to stand and meet his eyes. She stood and looked into his gaze and she saw it there in him too. Behind the usual grin, behind the spark in his blue eyes - deep there in his face it was everywhere. He was the first one to say, "I love you."
She took his hand and led him to the bed. She guided him to his knees and lay before him, spread wide and completely his. As she felt his tongue finding its mark, she whispered, "I love you too."
