Meeting

I was not expecting you to be as handsome as you were. You were taller than I imagined, your features more dynamic, your eyes alight. They gave me butterflies.

I was nervous as I approached you, my cool and indifferent exterior a shaky facade. It was with unfettered glee that I avoided returning your "hello," and instead went in for a hug. I couldn’t contain myself.

“Oh! A hug. Okay.”

Shit.

I stepped back.

“Um, hey. I’m Jamie.”

“Hey Jamie, I’m Ross.”

We travelled together to your home, my previous excitement stifled now by crippling shyness. We talked business, branding, water bottles. As we approached our destination for the night, my heart fluttered violently in my chest. I was eager yet terrified. It had been a long, long time.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

We played Bananagrams on the kitchen table of your bachelor suite, side by side. When the game ended, an awkward tension grew. It seemed neither of us knew how to bridge the conversation. It was with adolescent jitters that I waited, while you set up your bed.

We crawled in, the blankets up to our chins, our heads below a window. We cracked cheesy jokes, we giggled nervously, young lovers on the precipice of new territory. You wrapped your arms around me as we faced each other, pantless and foolish and euphoric.

“Can I kiss you?”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak, so I hummed a note of confirmation.

Your lips were soft, your breath easy. My own was hasty, shallow, an external indication of the beat in my chest. You climbed on top of me, the pressure of your body on mine welcome and potent. Wrapped in limbs, I could feel your breath become my own, and back again. I wanted to inhale every part of you.

Your weight shifted while I stayed on my back. Your left hand wove itself into the roots of my hair. Your right hand took leave from my nape, exploring the curve of my clavicle, the mound of my breast. The softness of my belly retracted from your touch, a trail of goosebumps blossoming in the wake of your fingertips. You drew long, graceful lines across my thighs as a fine dew bloomed on my skin. I felt you finger the delicate edge of my underwear.

Your lips moved from my lips to my jaw to my neck. You shifted your weight until your body hovered above mine, close enough to feel your warmth.

Your breath carved a path along my skin. I was a slave to my senses, incapable of controlling the trembling that came over me. I stuck my tongue between my teeth to control the chatter.

I felt you punctuate my body with kisses. I felt your mouth connect with my inner thigh. You worked with delicate precision. You read me, watched my body, listening to my breath grow ragged as your hand pulled my panties aside.

You devoured me.

Your tongue lapped at me with long and full strokes. Your touch shifted from delicate to decadent. You filled me with your fingers, your forearms pinning my thighs apart. I held the back of your head as your face explored me. You pulled the blankets off of us, forcing my knees to my chest with your hands. You continued to drive your tongue into me, taking completely any semblance of control I had remaining.

I felt you adjust your body, trading tongue for fingers as your repositioned to watch my face. I felt immense pressure start to build. A heat like I’d never experienced before grew inside me as you stroked my G-spot. I watched intensity scrawl itself across your brow, as my grip on reality grew gossamer thin. It was only a few moments more before I exploded in a symphony of cum, soaking your forearm and bicep, my thighs, your bed.

My breath returned to me in deep and dragging breaths.

You cracked a smile.

“How was that?”

“Incredible.”