Wet Rendezvous

Written by Karen

I guess I used to be an average college freshman. I live in 312, Penobscot Hall. I go to class each day, do my homework, occasionally party on the weekends. College stuff.

But all that changed about a month and a half ago.

I guess I should start by telling you that all my classes, Monday through Friday, start between 9 and 9:30 am. Not too early, and not to late. I always get up at eight and take a shower. Now, Penobscot is co-ed by room. Even numbers are girls rooms, and odd are boys. This means we have co-ed bathrooms, regular public like bathrooms with multiple stalls and showers and sinks. We are supposed to flip the sign to designate which gender is using the bathroom, but I really don’t care. It’s not like I’m going to walk around nude or anything. The showers are fully enclosed in stalls. So what’s the big deal?

Well, one morning after my shower, I ran into this drop dead gorgeous guy in the doorway. I was covered neck to toe- I’m rather short so my bath robe is extremely long on me- but the way he looked at me, I felt as if he were peeling back my robe with his eyes. Flustered, my knees weak at the intensity of his gaze, my insides molten lava, I fled, but in the most dignified manner possible. It wasn’t until I reached the safety of my room, my back against the closed door, did I realize my scrap of underwear had fallen out of my pocket. I don’t like traveling to the shower without underwear on. But it’s just gross to put in the same dirty underwear, right? And for some reason I don’t feel uncomfortable not wearing underwear back to my room, just to the shower.

When I went back before class, they were gone.

I spent the entire day fantasizing about him, wondering how it would feel to run my fingers through his thick dark hair. What would it be like to have his lips on mine, to have him inside me? To have his fingers running over my bare skin…

Shameful thoughts, I know. But I was eighteen, barely been kissed. Though I had borrowed many of my mother’s Harlequins, reading them in the middle of the night. He was so handsome, so gorgeous, he could have stepped from the pages of some fanciful novel about far away times and places, an Irish earl, or lesser lord…

So when I ran into him the next morning, my breathing was quite erratic, my cheeks flushed at my erotic thoughts. And when I ran into him the day after that, I might have accidentally dropped my panties again. But then the next day, Thursday, I avoided him, shamed by my wanton behavior.

On Friday I was setting out my shower stuff- I hadn’t taken off my robe yet so I had yet to make sure the stall door was secure- when it opened and he stood there, a towel wrapped around his hips suggestively. At the sight of his bare chest my mouth went dry. I stared at him, not making a sound, as he stepped inside the stall and locked the door behind him. I had just about found my voice to demand he leave when he dropped the towel and the dull ache deep in my stomach ignited. He was so big, long, hard looking, his well-defined chest and broad shoulders and muscled stomach and tapered hips that I was apprehensive... I mean, I had never seen a man naked before… I didn't realize how big they were....

But then he pulled me against him and his lips were on mine and the world disappeared…

Before I knew it, he had untied my robe and was touching my breasts, my stomach, and then his hands were on my shoulders and he pushed my robe off my thin frame so it pooled at our feet. Then his lips were on my neck, trailing down to where it met my shoulders, and then his lips were on the swell of my breast and I gasped, sagging against the wall. I felt his fingers at my waistband and I gasped as I felt their hot touch against the bare skin of my hip. And then he quickly removed the scrap of lace, the last bit of clothing on my body. I knew had to say something, but his lips were doing amazing things to my body, and I just couldn’t find my voice…

I didn’t want it to stop…

And then his lips were on mine again, and he must have reached out and turned on the water because I could hear it running and he easily maneuvered me under the spray and the hot water on my heated flesh made me gasp. And somehow he was in possession of my washcloth and soap because he ran it down my back and I whimpered at the sensation as the smell of vanilla flooded my senses. His other hand was massaging my breast, sending sparks of desire through me and his manhood was pressed against my stomach.

“So soft,” he murmured, his voice rough as one hand played with my taught nipple and the other ran the washcloth over my buttocks and squeezed the flesh. I moaned against his mouth and put up no argument as his lips left mine to travel down my neck, past his hand circling my areola, across my stomach and then he was on his knees, his hands were no longer on my body as he stared at me.

Blushing, I tried to cover my naked body, and it was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to leave when he pushed my hands away impatiently and murmured, “Beautiful,” and ran his hand up my leg to the center of my body, between my thighs. I sagged against the wall, my self consciousness forgotten, my arms limp against my side as his fingers found the center of which all these amazing feelings were coming from, where the heat was the greatest. I have no words for what he did, touching things down there I don’t know the names of, before he slipped a finger inside me and I moaned, almost covering the sound of his own groan. “So hot, so wet,” he murmured as he started moving his finger inside me, stroking my insides, and some strange part of my brain thought “duh, we’re in the shower” but I didn’t think that was what he meant. And then I was careening wildly over a cliff of feeling, and I saw stars, and I couldn’t feel my body or the cold tile that I had been resting against.

I don’t know how long I drifted on those waves of pleasure, but when I came back to myself, he was running his soapy hands over my naked body, kissing my neck and shoulder, his body pressed tightly against mine. I had the strangest feeling that the pressure he was exerting on my body was the only thing keeping me standing, because my legs felt weak, wobbly.

“Wha-What…” I started, but he stopped me, placing his lips back on mine. He continued to press his massive body against my much smaller one and his hips were pressed against my stomach and I could feel it there, harder than you would think something with no bones could be. But all I knew was I didn’t want it pressed against my stomach, I wanted it where his fingers had been – inside me.

His hands were gripping my ass and I was startled to find my hips rocking into his, wanting so desperately to feel him inside me. Obviously he wanted the same because he lifted me up and then I could feel him pushing against the opening he had awoken. As I slid down onto him I gasped, crying out, the pain biting through the pleasure fog I had been in.

“Shh…” he murmured, stopping my downward motion, letting go of my ass with one hand, pinning me against the wall even more so than I had been before, running it up and down my back in a soothing manner. He kissed my lips softly, then my neck, ear, shoulder, and I felt myself relaxing against him. And I felt myself opening for him, stretching around him. When the pain subsided, I shifted my hips and felt that pleasurable pressure building again. He groaned and let me slid all the way down onto him, and I gasped again, but this time there was no pain, only immense pleasure. I found myself barely on my tiptoes as I wiggled again, getting used to the feel of him filling me. Then his hands were against the wall on either side of my head, and his lips were attacking mine as he moved his hips and I could feel him slipping out of me but before I could protest, he thrust his hips and he was back inside me. The friction made me moan into his mouth as he thrust his tongue into my own just as he thrust himself into me again and again. I could feel myself starting to fall apart as he thrust yet again, my feet coming off the ground as he lifted me with each thrust.

“Come for me baby,” he murmured in my ear before grunting, throwing his head back as he thrust again. I found myself thrusting my hips against his as I raced closer towards that cliff, that edge. With one last thrust I was over, and I couldn’t stop the wordless cry that tore from my throat. He placed his lips back on mine, muffling the noise as he pulled out and thrust back in before I felt him shudder and I felt him do something weird inside me. He collapsed against me, pinning me to the wall almost to the point where I couldn't breath...but I was flying too high to care…

When we both came back from wherever we had been, he was still inside me, though he felt different, not so large, not so hard, and not as filling as before. Not that I wasn’t stretched tight around him… He kissed me a few more times before he pulled himself out. I leaned heavily against the wall, unsure just what had happened, well I knew what had happened…but now what happened next?

He turned from me, bending to retrieve my body wash. I was treated with a view of a very nice ass and a muscular back and a huge tattoo on his right shoulder. The view made me ache again, made the flesh between my thighs feel so empty…

Reading the label he made a face as he turned back to me, squirting some into his hands before passing the bottle to me. I gripped the bottle to my chest as he ran his hands along his own, and if my breath had been normal before, it became even more labored as the itch between my legs only became worse. An itch I knew only he could scratch.

“I’ll be out of your way in a minute,” he said, rubbing the soap into his hair.

“I-I have shampoo,” I somehow got the words out.

He bent again and grabbed the bottle, squirting some into his hair. I almost groaned at the view of his backside. My throat felt dry as I watched him. I licked my dry lips unconsciously. Quickly he lathered and rinsed his hair. Then he pushed aside the curtain, wrapped his towel around his waist and left the stall. I watched the way he went, even though he was out of sight. Then I relocked the stall before stepping back into the spray. My eyes burned but the shower hid my tears as I slowly washed myself. I was both tingly and numb. How could he do those things and then just walk away? How could I let him do those things to me? Why did I want him to do them all over again?

I thought then that it would be the last time I ever saw him. I didn’t even know his name. God, how could I have let a stranger defile me like that?

I stayed in the shower a long time, crying. When I finally finished, I didn’t feel like going to class. Instead, once back in my room, I threw on a large t-shirt and crawled back into bed.

How long I lay there I don’t know. At one point my roommate came back, so it must have been after 2pm.

“Buffy, are you okay?” she asked, her voice muffled by the blankets over my head.

“I don’t feel well,” I told her, thankful my voice didn’t sound like I had been crying.

“Well, I hope you feel better. I just came back for my biology book,” she said, and soon after I heard her leave again.

“Me too,” I murmured, rolling over so my back was to the room.

I guess I fell asleep, because I woke the next morning. I went and used the second floor bathroom, not wanting to run into him. Then I climbed back into bed. I didn’t eat all that weekend; I wasn’t hungry. I was sickened by what I had done. Thankfully I had just gotten off my period like two days before, so I knew I wouldn’t get pregnant. I couldn’t believe not only I had had sex with some random guy I didn’t even know, but that it had been unprotected. I had sat through enough Health and Sex Ed classes to know better.

But by Monday morning, I was sick of crying, sick of thinking, of moping around, of feeling sorry for myself. So I got up at eight, as usual, and went to take my shower. This time I made sure to flip the sign. But when I stepped into the bathroom, he was there waiting for me. Wordlessly he took my shower bucket from me, pulling me against him. I knew this shouldn’t be happening again, but his lips on mine felt so right. But just as fire shot clear through me to my lower belly, something funny was happening to my chest.

All the sensations I had thought I had embellished during my weekend in bed, I didn’t. If anything, this time I knew what was going to happen, and the excitement, the anticipation made it better.

This time he touched me everywhere with not just his nimble fingers but his lips and tongue too. With his head between my thighs, be made me come again and again until I was a quivering mass, barely able to stand. Only then did he take me into his arms and entered me with one quick thrust as he plundered my mouth with his own, and his hands teasing my breasts. I could taste something other than him on his lips, something other than his toothpaste and the taste that was just him, and it took me a moment to realized I must be tasting myself.

After we had both come, he pulled away just as before. But this time I noticed he had brought his own soap, strong smelling, masculine. I loved the smell of it, and of him, and the musk of our fucking.

Silently we washed, but this time we left together. I looked at the clock over the door and groaned. He looked at me funny.

“I’m going to be late for class,” I told him simply. But even that being the case, I didn’t want to leave his presence…he made me feel so…I couldn’t put words to how I felt.

He looked around the empty bathroom, “It’s too crowded in here,” he said.

I looked at him funny, before it dawned on me, “I wonder if half an hour would make any difference,” I pretended to muse out loud, breathless; I couldn’t believe what I was saying!

He didn’t respond, just headed down the hall, and I was worried I might have done something wrong, offended him or made him dislike me. I headed the same direction he did, biting my lip, hoping he wasn’t mad.

He stopped halfway down the hall, “What are you doing?”

“Going to my room,” I said, looking up at him.

“Which one?” he asked.

“312. You?”

“315.” I couldn’t breath, we were almost neighbors! How could this gorgeous man have lived two doors down from me for over a month and I was just now noticing?

The next morning I got up at 7:30, and he was waiting for me. Eagerly I went into his arms. I couldn’t believe what a wanton creature he had turned me into. Just the thought of his touch made me hot…All I could think about was the next time I would be in his arms. I couldn’t concentrate in class, couldn’t focus on work, I just needed to be in his arms.

This time, during what I was beginning to understand as foreplay, I was bold enough to touch him. The reaction o got shocked me. His head fell back as he groaned. Startled, I began to draw away, but he grabbed my wrist, not allowing me to pull away.

“You like that?” I asked, running my fingernail up his shaft. He groaned again. Fascinated by the power I seemed to have over him, I dropped to my knees. He backed up a few inches to lean against the wall as I started my exploration.

First I fingered the two orbs, testes, I knew they were called. I also knew from bio that these were where the sperm was stored. Next I explored his penis, running my fingers along the length, circling the tip as I had seen/felt him do to my breasts. It seemingly grew in my hands, hardening, and I looked up into his face to see pleasure masking all but hints of pain. This had to be painful, being so hard.

There was something glistening on the tip of his cock, and I didn’t think it was just water from the shower; suddenly I had the strangest urge to taste it, to taste him. I kinda knew what I tasted like from the taste of him after he pleasured me with his mouth, but I wanted to know what he tasted like.

Slowly I leaned forward and circled the tip with my tongue. He bit back a groan that sounded like “Oh, God!”

“Do you not like?” I murmured, looking up at him.

“Don’t…stop,” he said through gritted teeth, so I tasted him again, swirling the tip with my tongue, then running my tongue along the length.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “Feels…fucking good…”

A smile crept onto my lips at his praise. But for some reason, a taste wasn’t enough. So I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around him. He swore again, his hands coming to grip my head. I felt a fire burning between my thighs, moisture running from the hungry crevice as I took him deeper into my mouth.

I licked and sucked, I’m really not sure what I did that he found so pleasurable, as I licked and nipped and sucked with my lips and tongue, massaging his balls with my fingers almost unconsciously, rolling them against each other. But he was moaning and groaning and gripping my head so hard it hurt. A few times he almost thrust his hips into my face, but I couldn’t complain with him in my mouth, and it felt so great having power over him I didn’t want to stop. But all too soon he squirted his sperm and whatever else into my mouth. Without hesitating, I swallowed it, sucking on his cock to get all of it.

I waited before he came back from wherever people go after they climax before I ran my hands over his limp length, running my nails lightly over it.

“You learn fast,” he said, pulling me to my feet, locking his lips to mine.

“I did good?” I asked, though I pretty much already knew I had.

“God yes,” he murmured as he kissed my throat. I tilted my head so he would have better access as he nibbled at the base. “I haven’t had a blow job that good in a damn long time. No one would guess just a few days ago you were a virgin,” he said against my flesh, down my neck to the swell of my breast and to the tip. It was almost as if he couldn’t get enough of my flesh.

I pulled back from him, “You knew?”

“A man always knows, love,” he said, pushing his body against mine, pushing me back across the small space so I was against the wall. He thrust his tongue into my mouth before his hand slid between my legs, pushing them apart, now that they needed any encouragement…

“You’re so hot already,” he murmured as he stuck a finger into me.

“Only you do this to me,” I breathed, not really paying attention to what I was saying as pleasure ran through me.

He stopped, “You’ve been with other guys since-”

I shook my head, “No.”

“Good. You’re mine,” he said, sliding his finger out and then back in, somehow finding some spot to touch that drove me wild, “My lips,” he kissed them roughly, “My breasts,” he tweaked a nipple, “My ass,” his hand slid behind me to squeeze one of my cheeks. His fingers disappeared and I pouted- I knew I was close. His words were really affecting me, bringing me so close. “My pussy,” he said, as he picked me up, aligning his tip with my opening. Without thinking I wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrust into me, “Mine.” He grunted as he pulled out and thrust back in to me. My hips had a mind of their own as I used my hands on his shoulders and my legs to follow his rhythm. His hands on my ass helped me pull him out and sink back down. I felt like he was going to split me in two, so large and hard and so deep he was. And then I was flying as the strongest orgasm I had ever had ripped through me. I could feel him still pounding into me and then he grunted, and he was off to his place again.

As was becoming our routine, we washed in silence, then went our separate ways.

That day I went to health services and got birth control. This was no longer a chance thing; I didn’t want it to be, it felt so right, but I kept forgetting to ask about protection and I don’t think I could deny him if he refused to use any.

This went on for, God, almost a month. Sometimes there were days when one of use wouldn’t show up, due to test or papers, but the absent one always got punished the next day. I almost think those were the most pleasurable days – I had come a long way from the virgin he had first seduced – one teasing the skipper unmercifully, never allowing the ditcher release until they wanted to scream from built up frustration. I wasn’t as good at it as he was, I always gave in too soon, my own torturers biting me in the ass every time, but I was learning fast.

But to me, I don’t know where, I don’t know where, but somewhere along the line, it stopped being just sex. I had fallen in love with him, and I didn’t even know his name….

But I made the worst mistake of all. I told him.

It was a Thursday, a few days after what would be our one month anniversary of these wet rendezvous. We had just climaxed together, and I was floating on pleasure when I murmured against his chest, “I love you.” It was the first time I had entertained the notion, but when I thought about it, it seemed right. Though I didn’t know him very well, I loved the way the hair at the base of his neck curled once he had towel dried his hair. I loved the faces, the noises he made when I was giving him a blowjob, or when he was deep inside me. I loved the way his eyes lit up and softened when he saw my naked body. It might not be the best love a girl could find, but it was the truth. I was in love with this tall, dark haired, dark eyed hunk of a man that could make me feel more than I thought possible.

I looked up at him, a smile on my face, but he didn’t return it. I reached up to kiss him, but he pulled away. “I don’t want to be late for class,” he said, gently putting me down, untangling his body from mine. He kept his back to me as he washed, and I slowly went about my routine, feeling like my stomach had relocated to my toes. As he was leaving, without turning back, he said, “I can’t be here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay on Saturday then,” I said, my voice husky as I began to think about the things we could do. He didn’t reply as he walked away.

I woke up late on Saturday and rushed to the bathroom, my body anticipating joining with his, but he wasn’t there. Nor did he meet me on Sunday, nor that next week. On Friday, I finally gave up hope. I didn’t go to class that day, spending it in my bed, tears my only company. I thought I had lost him. My roommate was worried about me, and I finally broke down, telling her a bit of the story. Just that I had fallen in love with a guy I barely knew, and he had dumped me like garbage. She advised me to go talk to him. Maybe he was busy, he hadn’t said he didn’t want to see me anymore. So Friday night, around 8ish, I went and knocked on his door. He didn’t answer if he was there. So Saturday morning around 10:30 am, not too early, not too late so I wouldn’t miss him.

I shouldn’t have worried.

I had dressed in a flattering top and skirt, not to short or low cut, just enough to remind him what he had been missing.

As I entered the hall, I heard a muffled cry that I knew was someone climaxing, must have been in one of the rooms nearby. I felt jealous that someone could be having a good time, but I couldn’t be with the man I loved.

I got to his door – the noises were louder, but I didn’t pay any attention to it. I knocked on the door.

“Go away,” came the ragged reply.

“No,” I said, recognizing the voice, “I will not,” I grabbed the door knob, surprisingly it turned in my hand, and the door swung open, “go-” my jaw dropped at what I saw. He was fucking another woman! The picture became blurry as my eyes filled with tears.

“God damn it-” he hung off once he turned to see me. There was an odd look on his face. Then he was up off the slut – at this point I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t want to know what this made me.

“Wait!” he stopped to grab a pair of shorts, “I can-”

“Go to hell!” I spat, turning and running down the hall.

“Wait! Stop….just….stop!” he ran after me.

“Buffy!” I spun on my heel to face him, “My name is Buffy! Not that you gave a rat’s ass!” I screamed at him, before spinning and running the last few feet to my room, slamming the door behind me, locking it.

I leaned against the door, sobbing silently as he pounded on the door, “Buffy, please! Let me explain!”

“Go away!” I yelled, “Just go away!” I had never believed a heard could actually break. I had never believed someone could die from a broken heart. Now I did, because I certainly wanted to die. I knew without even trying that I could never love another man, I could never allow myself to be in another man’s arms. All I wanted to do was to be in his, and it would never happen. Dying sounded like a great idea, then my heart might stop hurting, stop breaking.

But there was also self loathing. I should have never allowed myself to get into this situation. Daddy’s little girl was ruined now. And worse, even as my heart continued to break, my mind kept conjuring up illicit images of him, his firm ass and strong, broad back and his tattoo on his right shoulder blade, his long thick shaft pounding into that girl. The images made my blood boil just as numbness swept through my body, freezing it. A sob wracked my body, and I fought to stay standing.

“Just go away,” I pleaded softly as my legs gave out and I sunk to the floor.

My roommate, my wonderful roommate didn’t ask questions as she helped me to my bed. She took off my shoes, skirt and shirt and pulled a long t-shirt over my head in their place. Then she tucked me into bed and gave me one of the stuffed animals I had brought with me, I stuffed pig I had had since before I could remember. I cried into Mr. Gordo’s fur as she sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my back.

“Thank you,” I sobbed out later, “Y-You don’t have t-to stay with me.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, “Just let it all out, you’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”

But I didn’t feel better. After awhile she had to go meet her lab partners and still I cried. When she came back, I pretended to sleep as she checked on me, but then she had to go do laundry.

I didn’t want anyone wallowing with me. I just hurt.

I avoided everyone for a week. I went to class, but didn’t really participate. I went and used the fourth floor bathroom when I needed to. I didn’t do homework, didn’t do anything but lie in bed and mope. I hoped that eventually the pain would lessen, but I doubted it. It only seemed to be getting worse. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breath.

But I knew this was what I deserved. I never should have given him my body, never should have let him into my heart. It was my own fault I was so miserable, not anybody else’s. And I definitely looked the part. I didn’t feel like trying to hide the puffiness around my bright green eyes or brush the tangles from my sun kissed blonde hair. My legs went unshaven. I was just a mess. Mostly I just stayed in bed.

A week later, I can’t remember what my roommate was doing, but there was a knock on the door. “Go away,” I called, my back to the door. I didn’t care who it was, I didn’t want to talk to anybody.

But the door opened anyway, “Go away,” I said again, but the next thing I knew I was being picked up and carried out of the room, down the hall and into another room. “You have no right!” I writhed against the strong arms that had kidnapped me. Finally he put me down.

And then I was looking at him, “Please,” he started.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I started towards the door, but he stepped in my way.

“Then listen,” he said, “I-I think I’ve been in love with you since that first day.”

“B-But-” I stared at him, shocked, not really understanding just where that had come from.

“I was so scared of what I was feeling…I’ve always been the type to take what I wanted from girls and dump them. I thought I could do that with you, but God, Buffy, not seeing you every day, it’s killing me. And it’s not the lack of sex, it’s the lack of you. I thought I could move on, forget you, but the truth is, I don’t want to. I want you,” he said.

“I-I-I-” I had no clue what to say.

“Can we start over?” he asked, before sticking his hand out, “Hi, I’m Liam.”

“No, we really can’t,” I said, but then I pushed his hand away and stepped into his arms, snuggling against his chest. Slowly he wrapped his arms around me, “But we can start fresh. I love you, Liam.”

“And I love you, Buffy.”

“Can I just ask…what’s with the tattoo?” I looked up at him from the safety of his arms. It felt so right to have him holding me.

He smiled slightly, “You mean the A? My mum always called me her little Angelus as a child.”

“Angel…you certainly have the face of an angel,” I ran my fingers over his cheek.

“No, you’re the angel,” he said softly, kissing me.

We kissed for awhile, but then I pulled away, just when it was starting to get kinda hot.

“What?” he asked, his brow creased.

“I…I haven’t really showered in awhile….hairy legs, bad hair, bad breath…can we pick this back up in, like, an hour?”

“How about I meet you in the bathroom in ten?” he asked, a sexy grin on his lips. I couldn’t help but kiss him again.

“Sounds like a plan.”

He was waiting for me when I entered the bathroom, the towel around his waist doing little to disguise his desires. As he pulled me into his arms, I reached down to touch him, anxious, but he knocked my hand away.

“I’ve been terrible to you. It’s about time I started making up for my bad behavior.”

And make up for it he did. Kissing me until I felt faint, giving me the most luxurious massage I had ever had…he washed every inch of my body slowly, washing the tenseness from my muscles, only to leave them tingling in the wake of the washcloth and his lips as he kissed me everywhere. Then his tongue was inside of me as his fingers tortured my clit until I came, and then before I could even come down from the pleasure, he was building me up again for another climax, and yet another.

Unable to really focus on anything, my body on overdrive, I barely realized he had picked up my razor and one leg. Then he placed his ass against my hip as he carefully lathered my leg and shaved it before starting on the other. By the time he had reached the knee of my second leg I was thinking straight enough to reach around his hip and touch him.

He groaned, “Love, if you don’t want to get cut, you’d better stop that.” Pouting, I let go, starting to kiss his broad back instead. Then he was done with my legs and was pulling away from me, turning off the shower.

“B-But you haven’t-”

“Now I will teach you the pleasures of a bed, beloved.” He took my hand and willingly I followed. He dried me off, and I couldn’t help but giggle a bit at the treatment. If it weren’t happening to me, I probably wouldn’t believed it if someone told me…

He then wrapped my terrycloth robe around me before he dried himself off. I couldn’t help but reach up and run my hands through his damp hair, making it stick out in different directions. He pulled me to him and kissed me a moment, before letting me go.

“Give me a few minutes,” he murmured, and I nodded. He started out but turned back when he got to the door, “You’ll come, right?” he asked, looking so unsure of himself I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I told him. He smiled at me and rushed out. I dawdled in the bathroom a few minutes before stopping at my room to drop off my bath stuff. I thought about getting dressed, but then I decided against it. It wasn’t like I would be staying in anything all that long. At least I didn’t hope to.

Finally I headed towards his room. He opened the door on the first knock, and he smiled when he saw me standing there. He let me into the room but before he closed the door I had him pinned against it, my lips on his, insistent, hungry. This time I wasn’t going to allow him to not take his pleasure.

“I thought the plan was to be on the bed, Buff,” he said huskily as I broke away for air.

“Eventually,” I murmured, kissing down his neck. I could feel his hands on my body, untying the robe, brushing it off my shoulders so I stood before him, bare. I rubbed myself against him, relishing in the feeling of him against me, as I kissed his chest.

“Love, this is about you-” he started.

“Just shut up. Just love me,” I murmured. He didn’t need any more direction; he picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his hips, and he carried me to his bed. He laid me down on the satin sheets, deep red in color, and pulled back a moment.

“What-”

“I just want to look at you,” he said, running his eyes across my flesh, “Perfect,” he breathed, and I decided not to argue with him.

He stood there staring for awhile – probably not that long, but it felt like it was a long time – and in the cool room I became chilled, I could feel Goosebumps raising on my skin. I pouted and held out my arms to him pleadingly.

He grinned at me, “Cold?”

“Please?” I asked, unashamed that I was pleading. I felt so empty, I had ever since I had last seen him what seemed like all those weeks ago, the last time we had been so intimately joined. He sat down on the edge of the bed and I sat up, crawling into his lap, kissing him.

He laughed, “Impatient?” he asked.

I pouted, by this time straddling him, “I missed you,” I said softly, kissing him again. He kissed me in response, pulling me closer. “I need you…inside,” I murmured between kisses. He groaned, and I could feel him against my stomach, only the towel he still wore in between us. My hips started rocking into his on their own, and he broke off the kiss, swearing.

“You’re not making this easy on me, love. I wanted to go slow, pamper you.”

“I don’t want you to go slow,” I murmured, kissing him. I think he cursed again, and then his hands were on my hips. He lifted me up and set me on my feet. I started to pout, but he stood as well, pulling the towel from his hips and tossing it aside before sitting once more.

“Come here,” he said, his hands on my hips again, and he guided me down onto him. I moaned as I felt him fill me, my head thrown back at the pleasure of just that contact. He placed light kisses on my neck, and a shiver ran down my spine, not from the cold, but from something else. My hips began moving on their own again, his hands on my hips, guiding me, pushing me up until he was almost all the way out before pulling me back down.

“Oh…my God,” I breathed as I slid back down onto him.

“Come on, love,” he murmured against the column of my throat.

“Angel…you’re an…”

“No, I’m not, love.”

“You’re mine…” I slid back onto him and felt my word start to fly apart.

“Let go,” he murmured in my ear, and his warm breath combined with the satisfaction of having him inside me threw me over the edge and I was flying and falling and calling his name as my world exploded. And he was right there along with me.

I lay against his chest, my ear over his heart, listening to the erratic thumping of his life beat. Slowly he eased out of me, laying me on the bed before laying beside me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stretching lazily. My body ached, kinda felt abused, but more than anything, I felt loved.

“Rest now,” he said, gathering me close.

“But you didn’t teach me about beds,” I said, sitting up.

“There’s time for that later. You’ve come, what, four, maybe five times?” he asked, looking up at me.

“But you’ve only come once,” I said, looking down at him. He lay on his back with his hands under his head. I ran my hand down his stomach to his penis, running my fingertips over it ever so gently so it jumped just a tiny bit, “You don’t want me again?” I asked.

“I’ll always want you, I can’t stop wanting you,” he said. He pushed himself up so that he was resting his weight on his hands. I fell backwards onto the bed and he placed a hand on the other side of me, leaning over me.

“Teach me about this strange notion I’ve heard about, sex in a bed,” I said, smiling up at him in what I hoped was a coy manner.

“Love making,” he corrected me.

“Love making,” I tested out the words and decided I liked them, “Fine then, make love to me in a bed. I dare you.”

He got this look on his face, “You’re in for it now,” he said, grinning, before he shifted his body on top of mine. And then he was kissing me, torturing me really, and there wasn’t much coherent conversation after that…

END

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