“Is it alright if I hold you?” John says as his deep brown eyes gaze down.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Please. Hold me. Touch me. My body feels like it will leap out of my skin before I can answer him. A weak surrendering moan escapes my face as it crashes into his torso and my fatigue arms encircle his waist. He squeezes me back, pulling me up towards him rather than weighing down. It feels like being held for the first time. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much I craved physical contact. His bare chest is warm against my cheek. It’s hot, I’m tired, and my body aches, but this is relief.
John clears his throat. “Do you want to sit on the couch? With me?”
The couch looks sad. The living room looks terrible. The awful bright white walls, cheap furniture, and bare furnishing make this moment feel like a mistake. I’m a mom. What am I doing? At some boy’s house while she’s asleep in his room. “I should check on Mal.” I reluctantly slide from his embrace, my body still craving the comfort of touch.
Mallory is knocked out. My fingertip caresses the top of her hand. Her lips suckle and stop as she drifts deeper into sound baby sleep. John waits outside the door rubbing the back of his head.
“I’m, uh, I’m going to grab a pillow,” he gestures towards the stack on the bed. “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”
I should offer to sleep out there, but I know he’ll refuse. He takes the long way around the bed, picking up a pillow and unplugging a charger from the wall. “John,” I stammer. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
He nods with a tight, closed-lip smile and tosses the pillow back on the bed. “Whatever you want, however you want it.” He turns around and squats down at an outlet to plug the wire back in.
I push my stained sweats down and step out of them before he finishes. My palms are sweaty, every part of me is hot and moist with perspiration. Standing he looks at my bare legs and touches his belt, “Should I?” I nod, afraid to speak.
With his jeans tossed over the wing chair, he pulls back the blanket and sheet, and we both slowly crawl in. I scoot closer to him, our legs touch, my hand shakes as my fingertips scan his stomach, and my head settles into his chest. He smells so good, like orange and cinnamon. There is sweat where our skin touches and goose bumps where it does not.
His arm holds me close, his hand rubbing my mid back. My fingers stretch, expand, and caress over his sternum under the sheet. All the candles are still lit, the ones on the bed stands, the hall, and the living room. I tilt my head up to peak at him, his eyelids open to meet mine with a little smile.
“Okay!” I drape my leg over his and swallow hard. This is it. Continuing the motion, I kneel and straddle him, thankful to have a shirt on that reveals my cleavage but not my stomach. Don’t over think this. I lean down and kiss him softly on his receiving lips. His tongue slips into my mouth and I mimic him, almost losing the recall of how to make-out. The taste of the drink still lingers and makes this that much sweeter.
“I… I haven’t… in a long time and…” I hesitate.
“Whatever you want, however you want it,” he repeats.
“I want you. I want you now. Soft and sweet. And…” I look over at Mallory. “I’m just not sure how or what…” Stop talking. “I…”
He brushes my hair behind my ear and confidently responds, “Okay. Soft and sweet.” John rolls me onto my back, never breaking eye contact. His lips are so thick and luscious I want to nibble on them all night. He kisses down my chin, over and around my throat, down my chest over the shirt, and across one thigh to my bent knee. He tugs playfully on my panties with a raise eyebrow as if silently asking permission. I nod and he slides them off.
John licks and kisses between my thighs, kissing my clitoris and dragging his tongue between my folds. Nervous and ticklish, I giggle and he looks up and smiles. The wet and warmth of his mouth creates a lost sensation, pleasure. He dips his tongue in and out of me, making my toes curl while my pussy constricts.
His erection pokes out of the slit in his boxer briefs as I pull his face towards mine. Stretching my arm between us I hold his cock in my hand to my delight and laugh again.
How do I tell him? That his penis size has relieved my concerns about post-baby pussy? How do I tell John he has a big, beautiful dick?
“Nothing. Just nervous. Keep going.”
With the wave of relief masking any previous apprehension, I brush the head of his dick against my wet cunt and his boner feels like steel in my hand. Fuck me. Oh, god. Fuck me.
The head of his bulbous dick slowly presses into me and retracts. He takes his time, each instance entering further, building up this new internal tension. My legs wrap around him, stopping him from withdrawing. John advances fully, stopping when he hits the back wall of my vagina.
I hush him. No more ‘Okay,’ no more slow and sweet. I grind my hips into his, building a rhythm that he reciprocates flawlessly. Every thrust feels like it will send me over the edge. He kisses me harder, his rough hands feeling different parts of my exposed skin. I stretch the neck of my shirt out and pull my still very sizeable breasts through the opening.
“Oh, god,” John mutters as his mouth surrounds my nipple. His eyebrows furrow and his dick jumps inside me. He thrusts harder, his eyes lock onto mine, my muscles tighten, my pussy pulsates, and a flood flows out of me.
John and I snuggle in the heat of passion and Mallory sleeps through till morning.