By Coily Era
“Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub.” I could hear the workings of her heart as my ear stuck to her warm chest. Her heart’s sounds soothed me in ways that a warm bath would soothe the aching muscles of a hard laborer. We are in our dungeon—a small room made of cool cement bricks, padded exposed pipes, and tan linoleum floors. The room is situated in the corner of the basement level in one of the older dorms on our campus. No matter how cool the temperature of the room got at night, the heat between our bodies always offered a heady opposition.
I allow my fingers to roam over her abdomen, stopping occasionally to whisk away pellets of sweat. I am sure that half of the pellets are mine as we had just made love. An attentive lover she is—never stopping until my entire body shudders into the tips of her thick brown fingers. How did we get here?
“Babe, have you ever considered anal?”
Taken aback by the question, I answer, “no” apprehensively. In my mind anal was something women allowed men to do if their vaginas were a bit overly used. I was certainly not one of those women.
“Would you ever consider trying it?” She asked, stroking my bare back.
I allowed her question to linger in the air for a while as I tried to find a way out of this rather intrusive question. She knows I will feel obligated to answer, thus she waits patiently.
“Hmmm maybe. I am not really sure if I am ready for all of that and I’ve heard that it hurts like hell.”
“Not necessarily. It doesn’t have to if you know what you’re doing.”
She’s got me. I don’t have a decent enough comeback to her argument and she knows it.
“Would you consider having anal sex with me?”
I can’t help but notice the sultriness in her tone. “Umm…sure, babe. We can try that.”
We both kept quiet for a while after that, simply stroking each other’s backs and allowing silence to fill the space. My fingers take on a new rhythm, pressing into her skin with a firmer touch. The touch that lets her know I want her in the most impossible way. Soon her lips are against mine, her tongue making small circles around my tongue. I kiss her neck, shoulders, breasts. She cups the back of my neck, pressing my lips closer to her breasts—welcoming the attention. I look up at her and see her eyes closed and her mouth slightly parted. She is amazingly beautiful.
Her hands cup either side of my head and direct it toward her other breast. I have always admired that she isn’t shy about telling me what she wants. I am happy to oblige, as I love her pear shaped breasts. I love flicking the tip of my tongue around her nipples. If I believed in Freud, I would be stuck in the oral stage. My palm works its way down her rib, stopping short of her panty line. I tug at the brim of her panties and allow my fingers to tease her along that line. I want her anticipation to build. I want her to want nothing more but me in that moment.
Between the soft moans and sharp inhales of her breath, she sighs a breathy “Yes.” Everything about her turns me on: the way she sounds when she is aroused, the way her chest arches up to reach my tongue, the way she licks her lips when she is enjoying my affection, how deep her eyes become when she welcomes me inside of her.
I slip my fingers into her panties and slowly massage her clit. It’s already swollen and flexes with every stroke of my long, narrow fingers. She parts her thighs wider, placing her hand over mine to guide me inside. Again, she tells me what she wants and I give it to her. Inside she is warm and drenched. This turns me on even more and I long to taste her. I push her knees toward her breasts and dive in. This makes her moan louder—something she has learned to be more comfortable with over time. Soon my fingers are motioning her to “come here” as they massage her upper wall. My tongue is relentless, enjoying the feast before it. I suck her clit as she begins to climax, grinding harder against my fingers. “Mmmm! Ahh!” She reaches her happy place and her body slowly relaxes.
She pulls me to her and kisses my forehead, deeply sated. I smile, “Was it good?”
“Yeah,” she answers too worn out to elaborate.
She strokes my back until she falls asleep, eventually turning over. I pull her to me. Pressing my breasts against her smooth back, I align my knees to hers, trying to become one with her body. I love her more than ever. More than anyone… anything. Even if I could crawl inside her and live there, I wouldn’t be close enough. Her soft baby hairs tickle my nose and upper lip as I kiss the back of her neck. I squeeze her closer to me so that she feels safe in her dreams. I want her to know that I am there.
“I love you more than I’ve loved anything. And it scares me to think we will spend seven months apart. I will be so lonely. I don’t want to go to grad school anymore,” I whisper to the sleeping Claire nestled in my arms. I have this thing where I tell her my secrets as she’s sleeping. I know she’d try to soothe me if she heard me say these things aloud. But the thing is, there is no comfort to be had in these moments. The fact of the matter is I am going to grad school and she is going to France. We both know that is foolish to wish for different outcomes.
“What scares me the most is what if you’re not the person I fell in love with when you come back? What if you realize there is someone better for you?” My insecurities continue to seep out like a watering can with a hole in the bottom of it. She stirs in her sleep and my heart jumps in fear that she’s heard me. I grow silent. Nothing.
“Baby, I really hope you decide to stay with me,” I whisper before turning over. She turns with me, dangling her arm across my stomach. Her subconscious gesture was all of the confirmation I needed to know we would be fine. Finally, I give in to sleep too.
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