“We need to talk. Like, right now.”
He sweeps into the room before I have time to respond. I have no idea what he’s talking about.
Well, maybe I do.
Last week after the bar… When we’d both gotten considerably too drunk for our own good. The rest of that night is a blur of ripping clothes off and dirty talk and Lord only knows what other sinful activities.
But that was two weeks ago, and since then he has refused to even make eye contact with me.
In an attempt to rid our friendship of the awkward cloud that had grown around it since that night, I had invited him over for a movie night. Wine, Netflix, and maybe a face mask or two - the usual. A casual night of hanging out the way we always have.
But with his entrance, I get the feeling it might derail into a rather awkward conversation I was hoping to avoid.
I’m standing in the kitchen entryway, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. Dressed in only a loose tank top and a pair of sleep shorts, suddenly I feel vulnerable. Ironic, seeing as he’s already seen me naked.
The distance separating us feels like miles. I decide to deliberately avoid the obvious and pretend to clarify the source of his frustration.
“Is this about—”
“Of course that’s what this is about.”
He groans, running his rough hands through long brown hair. His face is bright red and he still refuses to look me in the eyes. Embarrassment, probably.
Is he embarrassed? Does he regret what happened?
Finally, after a brief and awkward silence, he meets my gaze. I cock an eyebrow at him, still a little confused.
“So what’s the problem?” I ask, swallowing nervously. “I kinda thought that we could just go back to the way things were before, continue being friends like we’ve been for, oh I don’t know, the past three years?”
His facial expression mimics that of a deer in the headlights. Another pause lingers before I speak up again, setting the wine down on the table.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Well, I mean yeah,” he says, “that’s what I—what I thought I wanted, but—”
He sighs, sitting down on the couch and putting his face in his hands. His shoulders move as he takes a deep breath, and then looks up at me, determination in his eyes.
“I thought I wanted that, but then we actually did what we did and now it’s been fourteen days and all I can ever think about is your mouth on me, and the noises you made, and it’s driving me insane. I can barely focus on anything else, and I can’t imagine myself wanting anyone else this much, and I’m not saying I can’t be friends with you again but I am saying that I want you.”
I feel my face heat up. If the room were any more silent we would be able to hear our racing hearts echo through my apartment. His eyes follow my tongue as it darts out to wet my lips, like he’s trying to remember what else it might do.
“I’ll admit, I’ve been thinking a lot about that night too,” I say, now nervously chewing on my bottom lip. His eyes are still glued to my mouth, not moving even as he responds.
“Really?” he asks.
I nod, and step closer to him. I open my mouth to say something again, but the way he drags his eyes up and down my body quickly derails my train of thought. I can feel myself getting wetter by the second, and I move towards him and sit next to him on the couch. As much as I’m enjoying the build-up, I decide I’d like to do something about it. Slowly, I take the strap of my tank top and slide it down my shoulder.
“Tell me what else you remember,” I whisper. “About that night.”
His mouth falls slightly open, and the flush on his cheeks has spread down his neck at this point. Not waiting for his response, I take my time letting the other strap fall down my shoulders. The tank top drops softly down my body. I move my hand up to start working on my bra strap when he responds.
“Besides how hot and wet your mouth felt on my cock?”
Honestly, I didn’t expect something so bluntly dirty, but I find myself liking it. I nod for him to continue while I move closer.
“I remember how you looked up at me with the dirtiest look I’d ever seen, the soft noises you made when I kissed your neck.” His face moves inch by inch even closer to mine, our lips nearly touching. He goes on, his voice husky as he describes everything in detail. “I remember the feeling of you squirming underneath me as I held your hips down and teased you, I remember how needy you sounded when you came, how you tasted, but I can't quite remember—”
Before he can finish his sentence, I close my eyes and lean forward so our lips meet. The kiss starts out soft but soon matches the tempo of his words - urgent and hot and desperate as my tongue slides over his bottom lip. His hands find their way to the clasp of my bra. Breaking the kiss briefly, I move to whisper something into his ear.
“Keep going,” I purr.
Grabbing my hips, he guides me into his lap with my legs on either side of him. He lets his hands fall to my ass and grabs hard, rocking me forward. The feeling of his erection underneath me sends me reeling and he drags his mouth down to my neck. The last time we did this, we were both too drunk to think about what our hands or mouths were doing, but this time is different. I can feel everything, I can savor the way his hands slip underneath my skirt and the way he sucks and nibbles on my collarbone, and it’s dizzying.
I rock back and forth in his lap, feeling his cock grow harder with each movement. We’re both breathing hard, giddy with arousal and excitement at the release of so much sexual frustration and any fear of losing our friendship. Deciding I should probably relieve some of the pressure, I start to undo the buckle on his pants. He lifts his hips from under me so I can help remove them, letting him kick them off, and just as I’m about to make my way towards his beautiful erection, he stops me.
“Want to go to the bedroom?”
I nod. It takes all my self-control not to sprint to the bed, eager to pick up where we left off, but he takes me by the hand and leads me there at a more reasonable pace. Gently closing the door behind him, he turns around and takes one large step towards me, closing the gap between us for another kiss. This one is softer, more gentle and intimate than before, and I smile into it. Moving together, he lays me on my back on top of the bed.
Admittedly, I was really excited to blow him, but he has different plans. Tugging my shorts down to my knees, he drags my hips to the edge of the bed and gets on his knees. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, he lets his lips drag kisses along my inner thighs. He takes his sweet time with it, kissing down into the divots of my hips and getting closer and closer to my clit before starting over again.
Eventually, losing my patience, I run my fist through his hair and gently drag his head down where I need it. I feel him smile, laughing softly under his breath at my insistence, and he gently slides my underwear aside.
The second his tongue grazes over my clit, I feel myself melt into the mattress. His pace doesn’t pick up as he lets his tongue draw circles over it, applying the perfect amount of pressure. A low and quiet moan escapes my throat as he continues, planting wet kisses on my labia as his tongue does its work. My whole body is buzzing with a feeling of intense pleasure, so much so that I don’t even know how loud my moans might be.
Lowering my eyes to watch him, the sight of him between my thighs is almost too much for me. His eyes are closed to focus and his expression says he’s loving every minute of this, relishing the way I taste and the way I move underneath him. At that moment, he looks up at me again, this time putting a finger in his mouth and sliding into me.
“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters before returning his attention to my clit, and hearing those words sends another shock of arousal through my body. He lets another finger slip into me, and the feeling of being stretched out by him like this is addicting. I feel like I could stay here forever, watching him between my legs with my hands tangled in his hair. I drag my nails across his scalp, and in response feel him groan. The more my nails run through his hair, the more intense he gets. With his fingers, he spreads my labia and closes his lips around my clit, sucking and massaging with his tongue.
My legs start shaking, and I can feel myself getting closer and closer, so close to finishing that I can’t avoid it, and just as I’m about to lose my mind an orgasm rips through me. I can’t control the noises I’m making as I buck my hips, and he holds me down with his forearms around my waist as he pushes me to the end of it. Crying out as he continues, I get more and more sensitive until it’s too much to bear. Finally, I let my legs fall limp onto the mattress and my orgasm subsides.
He glances up at me as I attempt to catch my breath, my chest heaving.
“How was it?” he asks. My mind is in too much of a haze to answer with words, so I grab his shirt collar and pull him up on top of me. He laughs at my completely exhausted state, planting sweet kisses across my neck as I lay there and gather the rest of my brain cells. It doesn’t take long before I sit up, push him onto his back, and straddle him again.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I whisper with a smile, tugging the collar of his shirt over his head. He sits up to remove his underwear while I do away with the shirt, and before I know it he’s gloriously naked underneath me. I give myself a moment to stop and stare, soaking in the incredible view. His cock is fully hard now, standing against his toned stomach, and his biceps are accentuated by the way he’s propped himself up on his elbows.
It’s finally my turn to take my time with him. I raise myself above his throbbing erection and drag the head up and down along my pussy, moving my hand up and down the shaft. His eyes fall shut, mouth dropping open as he groans with each stroke.
I lean forward, letting my clit rub against him while I stroke the head of his cock softly with my thumb. His head falls back against the pillows, and I hear him whimper at the sensation. His moans grow in volume, fists tightly gripping the sheets, before I finally lower myself onto him.
The burning sensation of being stretched and filled echoes through every limb in my body. I still can’t recall the last time very well, but I know it wasn't this intense. Right now all I can feel is him throbbing inside of me, my nerves all lit up with desire. He shifts forward to bury his face in the crook of my neck, and that simple movement makes me heart jump into my throat. My eyes fall shut as my body rides out the waves of pleasure crashing through it, taking everything in.
After letting myself adjust for a minute, he starts thrusting up into me at an easy pace. Every stroke is a new sensation, and it takes me a while to realize he’s been muttering words in my ear the whole time.
“Love how hot and tight you feel,” he whispers, “it’s so goddamn good, fuck I love how wet you are for me, yeah, just like that, so fucking good.”
My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest as his pace picks up. My head falls back as I ride him, feeling him fill me in the most deliciously satisfying way, the words tumbling out of his mouth driving me insane with every thrust.
It’s hot and filthy and intimate and perfect, perfect in every sense of the word. He stumbles over his words as he gets closer to finishing, and eventually it’s just a collection of gasps and whimpers before he’s coming, filling me with come as he shudders and tightens his grip on me. I rock my hips gently as he comes down from it, needy groans falling from his lips as he does.
“Holy fucking shit,” I say as I crawl off of him and collapse onto the bed. I still can’t think straight, but I manage to stumble into the bathroom to clean myself up while he recovers from his orgasm. A smile is spread on my face as I climb in next to him again, putting my head on his chest. He glances down at me and matches my grin.
“That was fucking awesome,” he says through heaving breaths.
Closing my eyes, I hold up a hand and he high fives it, earning giggles from both of us.
Madeline Sommer is a writer and artist currently residing in beautiful Colorado. She passes time by fantasizing about traveling, making more art, and, of course, sex. She’d like to give all the credit to her overactive and sometimes dirty imagination.
Madeline Sommer is a writer and artist currently residing in beautiful Colorado. She passes time by fantasizing about traveling, making more art, and, of course, sex. She’d like to give all the credit to her overactive and sometimes dirty imagination.