#brooklynbear32

"Wait!" You say, the word out of your mouth before you even decide to say it.

He startles beside you, and when you turn to look at him, you see his eyelids flutter like he's forcing himself out of sleep.

"Sorry," you say, more softly, a hand coming up to his cheek. It had been a long day, and if you’d realized he was drifting off, you would have kept your mouth shut. "Everything's fine."

He smiles, dozily at you. "What's up, Sunshine?"

"I just – have you really fantasized about me?" You ask, a little shy.

His eyes search your face, as if unsure what response you're hoping for. 

"Yeah, Sweetheart, I really have." He replies, and he runs a hand over your head, tidying the hairs still out of place from the, uh, exercise you just shared. "These sheets smelled like you from the other night, and I couldn't help remembering everything we did together. And then I started thinking about other things that we could do together."

A thrill goes through you, settling low in your stomach, so flattered to be desired. 

"Do you, uh–" The words get stuck in your throat. You clear it, his expression teasing as he waits, and try again. "Do you want to talk about those ideas?"

He leans in to kiss you, but it's chaste compared to what you've come to expect from him.

"I would love to, baby, but I need a bit of a rest first." He looks disappointed in himself, like his incredible body is letting him down. 

"Hey, that's okay." You kiss him gently, enjoying seeing him so soft and sweet. "You've definitely earned it!"

He smiles at you. "I want you to stay, if you want that, too." He's rubbing a hand along your back, like he's trying to settle you to sleep beside him.

"I, uh, may or may not have thrown a couple things into my purse when I was getting ready, just in case you said something like that." You admit cautiously, and your heart nearly bursts when he beams at you. 

"Good. I coulda been ready to go again after a quick nap, but I'd much rather get some real sleep and do things right tomorrow." He says, closing his eyes and snuggling up against you.

"You sound like you've got a plan," you tease him.

"Guess you'll just have to stay and find out," he replies. He kisses you quickly again, his eyes still closed but finding your lips easily. You don't even feel embarrassed that you watch him for a few moments, enjoying seeing his handsome face relax into sleep. 

You force yourself to get up, go to the bathroom, and brush your teeth. Somehow, you're still wearing your dress and bra, your panties left on the kitchen floor. You're conflicted - you brought a cute pair of sleep shorts and a cami, but the idea of pairing his t-shirt with your lacy panties is also appealing. Last time, you both fell asleep totally naked, wrapped around each other, and that was a fantastic way to wake up.

You feel a little ridiculous, wondering if other girls also stand in the bathroom after amazing sex and debate what to wear (or not wear) to bed. You tell yourself that there isn't actually a wrong choice, after all, we're talking about getting in bed beside a naked Chris fucking Evans.

You decide on his shirt and your panties, remembering how much he liked "unwrapping" you earlier. His shirt, which looks too small for his bulky chest, is still big on you, and actually not that flattering, but it smells like him and there's something so sexy about the intimacy of wearing his clothes, so you leave it on.

You tiptoe around the suite, putting the leftover pizza in the fridge, making sure the door is locked, and turning out lights. It feels shockingly domestic and it warms something in your chest. You've had hookups before, some more embarrassing than others, but you've never come back for seconds. You don't have the perspective to know for sure, but you doubt most second hookups feel this cozy and familiar. 

You return to the bedroom, and you stop and stare at the man spread out on the king-size bed in front of you. He's rolled from his side to his stomach, the arm that had been around you now extended as if reaching for you. You lie down on the bed, situating yourself on your side so that you can look at him a moment longer. You slide your hand under his, and his fingers tighten around yours. It's almost definitely just a reflex, but your heart is full when you close your eyes.

_____

You wake up to sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and realize almost immediately that you're alone in the enormous bed. The door to the ensuite bathroom is closed and you can hear the faint sound of the sink being used. You close your eyes again, surrounded by bedding that is so soft and smells like Chris. You must doze off again, because the next time you open your eyes, Chris is lying beside you, looking at you.

"Creepy," you tease him with a smile, like you hadn't done the exact same thing last night.

He gives a little shrug, unapologetic and smiles back at you. "Good morning. How'd you sleep? How d'you feel?"

His voice is still sleep-rough and it warms every part of your body. You stretch, legs straightening out, toes pointing, arms extending as much as the bed's headboard allows.

"No complaints," you answer happily.

"Are you hungry?" He asks.

"For what?" You flirt with him.

His eyes crinkle. "For food."

You shake your head against the pillow. "Not yet. My stomach hasn't woken up."

"Are you hungry for anything else?" He flirts back at you, and he moves closer to you now and drapes himself over you. He’s still naked, and entirely unselfconscious about it, like this is just the way his body is meant to be. You don't disagree.

“I think I could be persuaded.” You say as his body cages you in. His arms settle on either side of your head, his knees on either side of your hips.

“Am I supposed to try to convince you now?” He asks, playfully, and – wow, what an idea that is. 

“Well, you could tell me more about that plan that you mentioned last night.” You suggest.

“Sure,” he says, moving to kneel beside you, putting a little more space between you. You pout a little, but it does make it easier for you to listen and think with your brain instead of your vagina.

“So I was thinking about you getting yourself off for me,”  Chris begins, his eyes dark but still twinkling. “And by the way, I’m pretty sure I said it at the time, but it was so fucking hot getting to watch that.”

You flush, remembering it. You’re honestly a little surprised that you’d been so bold. Fortune sure did favor you, though.

“And I was thinking about you saying that you had to think about me to come, and I realized that didn’t actually mean that the guys you’ve slept with never made you come. So I guess my question is: am I really the first guy to get you off?”

Your flush deepens somehow. You wish there was a way you could move so that you didn’t have to make eye contact.

“Not quite. There was one time – what I said yesterday was true: most of my hookups were a long time ago. But I went home with one guy more recently. He was funny and cute and I wasn’t even that drunk…” 

“Okay…” Chris encourages you. He cups your face and you look up at him. He’s nodding, coaxing the story out of you, trying to show you that he’s won't judge you for what happened. But your embarrassment wasn't about the promiscuity.

“His name was Christopher.” You admit, scrunching your face.

“Oooooh!” Chris says, and a big, goofy smile spreads across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. As if your ego needed the boost." You roll your eyes at him, but you're smiling, too.

"Oh, yeah, something is getting a boost alright." Chris teases you. "What happened? I'm guessing he didn't look like me or anything."

"He didn't," you agree, "But I couldn’t see his face during because he -- you know --"

"Was fucking you from behind?" Chris suggests, bluntly.

You scowl at him. "Yes. That. So, it's all going fine. Like, not bad for a hookup but not great or anything. But then I realized that I could think about you and not have to worry about calling the wrong name…"

Chris laughs, delighted. "Oh, Sunshine. That's incredible. You came on some other guy's dick, because you were imagining it was me and calling my name?"

"Yup. There you go." You say, breathing out a sigh. "That's the most embarrassing part of all of this. I came harder than I'd ever come before in my life. He thought it was amazing and wanted to get my number but I couldn’t look him in the eye. I left as fast as I could and never went back to that bar again."

Chris is fucking beaming at you. "That is my favorite thing I've ever heard," He declares. "This is better than any birthday present. Any award. The next time I'm feeling bad about myself, I'm going to remember this and feel ten feet tall."

"Yeah, yeah." You reply, rolling your eyes. "You're God's gift to the world, we know."

"And when was this hookup?" Chris asks.

"About a year ago."

"And since then?"

You sigh. "Just me and my hands."

"And me!" Chris reminds you, brightly, "I was there, even if it was only in your head. Or also on your TV?"

"Nuh-uh. We’re not going there. I’m not going to tell you about that part of my process." You say, firmly. Even if he'd find it hot, you still aren't going to tell him just how many times you’ve seen What’s Your Number . He pouts at you, just a little.

"Fine. But a whole year, sweetheart?" Chris says, coming back to straddle you. Then he's sliding his hands under your shirt - his shirt, actually - and running his fingers up and down your torso. Oh. Right . You'd been in the middle of something. "No one's touched you at all for a year?"

“I mean, it wasn’t exactly a sacrifice then. I hadn’t had many experiences worth missing.” You tell him, arching into his hands. You decide to try biting at one of your fingers, the way he does, and you hope it sounds sexy when you whisper: “Like you’ve said, no one ever really touched me properly before you.”

Chris growls. He pulls off your shirt in a powerful movement that lifts your head and shoulders off the bed. His mouth is on your neck, his hands on your breasts, like he’s trying to make up for all the years of touch you missed out on.

You grab his head, hands in his hair, holding him to you. He moans at your touch. 

He sucks a mark onto your collarbone and pulls back to inspect his work. He must be pleased, because he moves to kiss you, his lips rough against yours.

"So I think we've got some catching up to do, huh?" He says, and he cups your face with both hands. "I want to really take my time with you. I want to find every single spot on your body that makes you shiver. I want to explore every inch of you to see what pleasure has been trapped inside you, just waiting for me to let it out."

His eyes are so intense, his words so commanding and his hands so gentle. Everything about him makes you weak. You turn your head and kiss one of his palms, cradling it in one of your own hands.

"So what's stopping you?" You ask him, breathless with want.

The filthy, mischievous smile spreads across his face. "Well, if we're going to do all that, we really ought to eat breakfast first. You're going to need your strength."

You groan, impatient.

"But maybe we can take a few minutes for an appetizer, huh? Something quick?" Chris suggests, sliding a hand down to where you're still covered with delicate lace. "What do you want, Sunshine? My fingers? My mouth?"

You groan again, annoyed at being asked to make a decision. His fingers are teasing under the fabric of your panties to where you're aching for him and the answer comes to you in a rush.

"Your cock. I want you to fuck me."

Chris looks surprised, but only for a moment.

"O-kay," he says, "You don't have to tell me twice."

He leans over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and deftly rolling it on. Then he pulls off your soaked panties and slowly runs his fingers through your wetness, dipping into you. He rubs deep inside you, his thick fingers touching spots that only increase your need for him.

"Chrissssss," you complain.

"Shhhh, baby," he soothes you, "Just making sure you're ready for my cock. I love how wet you get for me."

He puts his fingers in his mouth and moans, just a little, smiling at you the whole time. "Love tasting you, too." You'd find it sweet if you weren't so fucking desperate to have him in you.

Except then his huge body is moving over you, his gentle but determined hands pushing your legs apart so that he can move in between them, then pinning your hands above your head.

It knocks the breath out of you, feeling the absolute power of his body paired with the certainty that he'll only use it to make your body sing.

He bumps his forehead against yours, checking in. "You tell me if you need anything, okay, Sunshine?"

You nod quickly, gasping out a quiet "yes" and that's all the confirmation he needs. One hand holds your wrists above your head and the other guides his dick inside of you. You don't know how he has the control to move into you so leisurely, and it is impressive, but you don't want that. You don't want slow and controlled.

You bring your knees up around his hips, your feet settling against his ass, and then you drive your feet into him as hard as you can. He's clearly not expecting it, because he crashes into you, his cock sliding home, as deep as it can go. You gasp, not regretting it, but your vagina is aching, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

"What the fuck, Sunshine?" He asks, his eyes wide as he pulls away, luckily not pulling out. He sees the smirk on your face and a shit-eating grin crosses his own. "Oh yeah? Couldn't wait for me, sweetheart? You got a greedy pussy or something?"

You shrug, unashamed. "You were going too slow."

He blows out a breath, like he doesn't know quite what to do with you. He's deep inside you, not pulling out, but not moving, either. You try swirling your hips to get some stimulation but the hand not pinning your wrists presses low on your stomach, just firmly enough that you can't grind against him anymore.

"I think you ought to be a little more grateful." Chris says, and the mischievous smile is back, the indecision gone. "I'm the only guy in the world that can make you come, and you think you can just shove me around?"

"See, I knew your ego -" you start to argue, but then his hands tighten on you and he's leaning in close. A shred of uncertainty twists in your stomach.

"You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it." Chris says firmly, but then he whispers, "Tell me 'stop' or 'red' any time if you don't like what I'm doing."

Fuck. Realization slams into you: he's giving you a safe word which means he's about to do something that needs one.

"Green," you gasp, eagerly. He grins, understanding your consent, presses the quickest kiss to your lips, and then leans back again. The grin disappears, his playfulness replaced with purpose as, finally, he starts moving inside you. God, he's huge. You'd mostly relaxed around him while he was immobile, but the slow drag of him has you clenching.

"See, I think you got greedy." Chris says, his voice, his hands, his cock, all of it overpowering you. "You started thinking I was some kind of fucking machine, just for you–"

You open your mouth to argue, a little worried he actually thinks that, but then he winks at you. You take a breath, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he's building up to. His thrusts have sped up a little, and those vibrant spots in your cunt are starting to throb.

"But what you've forgotten is – I'm the one in charge here, baby." His hands, still pinning you against the bed, shift just enough to remind you of his physical control over you, but the motion feels more like a caress than a trap.

"I'm the one with the dick that can split you open. I'm the one that figured out how to lick your perfect pussy. I'm the one that can make you come with just my fingers. I'm the whole reason your body can orgasm at all, and you'd better remember that. Sure, I can make you come, but I can take your orgasms away just as easily."

And then he stops moving in you, only the head of his cock inside you. You whine, trying to move your hips so that you can get more stimulation where you need it. But you can't, because he’s holding you still. Because he's in charge.

"See?" He says, grinning down at you, dark and dirty. 

"Chrisssssss," you complain, clenching on the entirely insufficient length inside of you.

"Ask me nicely." He tells you.

"Chris, pleeeeease," you whine. He kisses you, open-mouthed and filthy. Then he whispers against your lips.

"Please what, sweetheart?" He asks, as if he doesn't know.

"Fuck me! Please! Fuck me, Chris!" you yell, too desperate to feel any shame at all.

"That's better," he says, and finally he's moving in you again. You moan, relieved, your cunt grateful for his return. He groans as you tighten around him, pulling him back into you. He doesn't speak for a minute or two, just moving perfectly inside you. The moment you start to really lose yourself to it, he slows down slightly, and speaks.

"So tell me, Sunshine. That time that you screamed my name while getting fucked by another man–" you groan, the embarrassment of the memory somehow making you hotter. "--did one of you rub your little clit, or did you only need his cock to make you come?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to see his face when you admit it. "Just his cock."

He growls so you open your eyes so you can see his face. He looks – actually you're not sure. Not quite angry. Jealous, maybe? Ravenous?

"Then that's how you're going to come this time." Chris tells you, and his thrusts speed up again. "You're going to come on my cock, with me fucking you, just like you imagined that time. No touching yourself.  No closing your eyes. I want you to look me in the eye when my cock fucks your orgasm out of you."

You nod your head, pleasure and desire rushing through you and making you dizzy.

"Don't move your hands," he commands, and then his hands leave where they were holding you down. He grabs your hips, tilting your pelvis just like he did that first time he fucked you. And again, the movement changes the way he rubs both inside you and against you, and you wail. He smirks.

"Good girl," he croons and, yep, now you're shaking. His hands leave your hips and he crowds you, resting with his weight on his forearms, one on each side of your head. A thumb strokes your hair, and the contrast of domination and gentleness is overwhelming.

"Isn't this better?" He asks you, but you're starting to have trouble processing his words. Your blood is rushing through your body, pounding in your ears and making your swollen clit throb. "Doesn't it feel good to let me take control?"

You nod again, not enough air in your lungs to agree with words. You feel tears forming in your eyes. 

"I gotta say, Sunshine, it feels pretty good for me, too." Chris whispers, his lips ghosting along your cheekbone. "Can't tell you how fucking hot it is to know that I'm the only one that can do this to you. Your body is perfect, reacting to me so well. You're so eager for it, for anything I want to do to you. And I bet that people used to call you a prude!"

They have, and it hurts to hear him say it. You know it's so fucking stupid that the word still hurts, when you're literally having earth-shattering, kinky sex, but your scars and shame run deep. The tears, which had been gathering due to the overwhelming pleasure besieging you, fall in earnest now, caused by the humiliation burning in your chest. Chris kisses the tears as they roll towards your hair.

"Awww, baby," Chris says, "Don't you get it? Those people are the biggest morons in the whole world. Because you're not a prude at all. You, Sunshine, are a total fucking slut for me." He pauses, so deep inside you and then times his next thrusts to push into you with each possessive word. "You're mine to play with, mine to tease, mine to make explode with pleasure. It's all for me . And now you're going to come on my cock , looking in my eyes and screaming my name ."

You whimper, because you are close but you're not quite there yet. You shake your head back and forth, tears still falling, because as much as you want it, as much as you want to be good for him, you don't know if you can. 

"Shhh, baby, it's okay." Chris whispers, "Whatever you're thinking about, whatever you're worrying about, just let it go. Don't think, just feel. Take a big breath for me."

It takes you a second but you manage, inhaling and exhaling a noisy, shaky breath.

"Good girl," Chris murmurs, giving you a gentle kiss as a reward. "See? You can do this. Keep breathing like that for me. Feel the air moving through you. Get out of your head and into your body."

The hand playing with your hair starts to trail down your neck, your shoulder, your breasts.

"Focus on me, babe. My hand on your tit, my lips breathing on yours, my dick stretching you open, pushing into the most secret parts of you. Feel everywhere I'm touching you, everywhere your body is rushing to meet mine. Feels good, right?"

You whine, because of course it does, it feels so fucking good. You're so close and your clit is throbbing. Your nipple is being pinched just hard enough to make you gasp. Your skin is tingling. Your toes are curling.

"Okay. You know the way you clench when you come for me? The way you squeeze me so tight, pulling me deeper into you? Do that for me now."

You do. You'd do anything, anything to come.

"Fuck, sweetheart. That's perfect. Do it again. And again. And again. Keep doing that for me. Good girl, you're being so good for me."

And later, you won't be sure what did it: the intentional muscle contractions, the praise, or the way Chris is looking at you like he could never get enough of you, but you’re breathing harder, and your legs are starting to shake. You can hear a noise, a whining groan, but Chris is talking to you so it can’t be him making it. 

“Come on, Sweetheart, that’s it. You’re right there; right there, just for me. Feels so fucking good to have you squeezing my cock.” His thrusts are so powerful that he’s pushed the both of you up the bed. Your hands are still exactly where he put them, and they’re stopping your head from knocking against the headboard. He must notice this, moving his forearm so that he can put a hand between yours and the headboard, cupping your head. 

“We’re going to come now, together. Can you do that for me? I’m ready for it, ready to push my come into you. D’you want it? Wanna come with me, baby?”

“Chris!” You cry, desperate for it, shaking apart in his arms, pleasure radiating in waves from where he’s pounding into you. You’re squirming, flailing underneath him. Gasping, yelling, moaning.

“Come for me, Sunshine!” He commands you, and you obey. You see his eyes widen as your orgasm overtakes you, feel the way he moves impossibly faster into you. 

“FUCK!” He yells, and for the first time, his unrelenting thrusts lose their rhythm. His hips move erratically as he presses into you in all the right places to make you scream. He’s groaning and you – yeah, you’re still screaming. He stops thrusting, his hip bones digging into your ass as he grinds against you. Your muscles are tired, so tired, but still tightening around him in time with the throbbing of your clit. 

Your hands fly up from where they’d been resting, as if an invisible chain holding them down broke, and you grab at his shoulders, pulling him to you. He responds in kind, sliding his arms under your back to pull you to him until your chests are flush. You hold each other and moan and shake and stare and breathe until you both sag down onto the bed.

He kisses you, clumsy and sweet, and rolls you so that you’re side-by-side. Your head is empty – nothing left in it whatsoever. You just look at him, rubbing your fingers over his face like you need proof that he’s real. He smiles at you and the warmth of it spreads through your still-trembling body.

“Wow,” he finally says, breaking the silence. “That was–” and you’re curious to hear how he’ll describe it, because God knows, you don’t have any words. But he doesn’t finish the sentence, shaking his head, the words escaping him, too.

"Uh-huh," you agree, nodding a little. "Sure was."

He chuckles, and the vibrations rumble through your chest. He kisses you, and you kiss back, but your body is too relaxed to do anything more than press your lazy mouth against his. He's not much better, and you love it. Your brain is starting to work again, and you remember something.

"You lied to me." You tell Chris. He flinches, jaw dropping, instantly worried and confused. "You said you were going to be quick. You told me we were going to have an appetizer, but that was a whole fucking meal!"

He laughs, his relief palpable, and pulls you close to him once more.

First some backstory. If you want to go straight to the hot stuff, scroll til you see the 🔥

Five years ago, when Kid#1 was a toddler, I saw a psychologist who specialized in women's sexuality. I described my relationship with sex and told him and his student all about how I had no libido, sex was only ever just okay, sure I could orgasm, but only if I rubbed my clit myself and was in the zone.

He basically said, "Yup, that all makes sense" and listed literally eight or more physiological and lifestyle reasons that sex was so meh to me. I was breastfeeding. I had an IUD. I'm on a bucket load of anti-depressants. I lived in a tiny apartment where my bedroom shared a paper-thin wall with the nursery. I was raised in a sex-negative culture and family. Etc. Etc.

I left feeling very validated but also a little hopeless. It was nice knowing that I wasn't just a prudish, awful wife, but I didn't leave the appointment with any actual strategies or suggestions to improve my sex life.

Fast forward two years. Husband (let's just call him H) and I decide to start trying for Kid#2. I get my IUD out. I start actually feeling physically turned on when not already in a sexual situation. Kid#1 is in daycare, H works from home, and we get to have nooners in an empty house. I have a huge breeding kink, so trying to conceive made it even more fun.

Coincidentally, all of this is happening at the same time as CE's Slutty Summer of 2022. I start writing M/F erotica for the first time in my life and writing about sex made me think about it differently.

It's all well and good to write that someone is a sex god who makes his partner feel things she never had before, but what does that actually look like? I had no complaints about H in bed, but neither of us had ever been with anyone else so you don't know what you don't know, you know?

We have a fun couple of months, and then I'm pregnant with #2, which for me meant hyperemesis gravidarum, a worsening of all my chronic conditions, and a bunch of new (temporary) problems connected to growing a whole human.

Aka no sex drive whatsoever.

And then, wonderful new baby! Joy of joys! Also, no sleep, breastfeeding again, post-partum recovery, a grumpier-than-average baby, do much laundry, baby, baby baby.

We eventually get back into the swing of things. We buy some new toys. I write some more fic. Things aren't as good as those horny few months of 2022 but what can you do?

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

At some point, I wrote a scene without actually fully internalizing the lesson in it for literally years, which in retrospect is totally fucking insane. Here's the jist of it:

Trusting your partner includes far more than trusting that they won't hurt you on purpose. It means trusting them to not be discouraged or hurt if they try something and you don't like it.

It means trusting them when they say they love eating you out, even when you feel so guilty that you can't come from it. It means trusting that they will stop when they are bored or their jaw hurts.

It means being able to make weird noises and actually believe that they like the ones that sound nothing like TV sex scenes or porn. It means leaning that sometimes, whatever noises come out of you actually help you to understand what you're feeling as much as they help your partner.

It means buying a waterproof blanket from Amazon because even a towel wasn't enough for you to truly relax your pelvic floor without worrying about peeing everywhere. It means feeling a gush of liquid when something feels really good and not caring whether it was squirt or pee.

A few months ago, I finally actually started living the lesson I'd written about, and my sex-life is completely different because of it.

In my fic, I wrote about a previous female partner that came eight times during one sexual encounter. I was thinking about that in the same way that I think about ultra-marathon runners: wow, there sure is a tiny percentage of people out there that have amazing bodies that do things the rest of us cant even dream of. I wrote it in the context of my OC feeling bad that she couldn't come more than twice. I, myself, had never even come twice.

I came eight times today and I can't stop mentally reeling over the fact that I'm now having the type of sex I wrote about.

The wildest thing about it is that we aren't even doing anything too differently in bed. Most of my orgasms today came from missionary or my-legs-on-his-shoulders positions. H's dick didn't suddenly double in length or girth. He didn't invent a new thrusting pattern or start spouting top-tier dirty talk. Every change that happened was mental, not physical.

Any time I've been super real with my IRL friends about their sex lives, they've had very similar experiences to me. Their partner wants more sex than they do. They feel guilty for not wanting more sex. There's nothing wrong with the sex but also, it's not something worth tearing clothes off for.

I wish I had more concreet advice to offer than "buy a sex blanket, get loud, and write erotica". I wish I could bottle this so that I could give it to everyone. I wish I knew how to make sure that I get to keep it, or at the very least, know how to get back to it if/when things ebb and flow like all parts of life.

Too soon, he breaks the kiss, his lips leave yours, but his face stays close.

"I have so many questions for you." He tells you, his voice raspy and his eyes wild. "I want to know everything about your body, about you. I want to know every way you've been touched before: what you liked, what you didn't, and what no one's ever done to you. I want to hear every fantasy that you've touched yourself to, everything you've imagined me doing to you."

You're moaning now, arching your back, trying to rub your body against him. Wanting any contact he'll give you, desperate for it.

"But all of that can wait. I need to get inside you right now." His voice is purposeful, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head. He pulls you forward, your foreheads touching. You can't see anything but him.

"Can I fuck you?" He asks, as if there's any chance you'd say no.

"Yes," you gasp, sounding like an orgasming woman in a tawdry porn scene.

He's still fully dressed, wearing his character's slacks and button-front shirt from the day of filming. You expect him to move away to take them off. To stand beside the bed, quickly removing the layers separating him from you.

But he doesn't. He removes his hand from the back of your head and reaches down, undoing his belt and opening his pants, one-handed. He – God – he shoves his underwear down, freeing his cock, and you realize: he can't even wait long enough to take his clothes off.

He reaches past you, grabbing a condom from the nightstand beside his bed, and sits back to put it on, his ass on your legs. He's huge: just like you knew he would be. He's cut, his glans a furious purple color, clearly wet with precum.

And then he's grasping himself, rubbing his cock up and down your slit, where you're soaked, dripping for him. Up and down. Getting his cock covered in your slick, making sure his thick cock can enter you smoothly. He lines up the head at the entrance to your vagina, just barely pushing in. He lets go of his dick and puts his hand on the bed, getting the right leverage. He starts to sink in and you both groan.

It's too much. It's not enough. It's too fast. It's not fast enough. You're panting as he slides into you, the glide easy enough because of how wet you are, how ready for him you are. He's groaning again, his body tense as he tries to not overwhelm you, to let your body stretch and welcome him in. It's not painful, but you do feel your muscles working hard to allow such an unyielding width into your body.

"Fuuuuuck," He says as he's finally in you as deep as he can go, his pelvis snug against yours, his balls pressing against your ass. He stays there a moment, just grinding up against you. Your vagina isn't the only place where you feel him. Every part of your sex being claimed by him: your clit, your inner lips, your asshole. He's rubbing everything at the same time and it's so much already.

His eyes meet yours.

"Are you ready?" He asks, and you feel your stomach drop, like when you jump off a cliff, trusting that the water below will catch you.

You nod, unable to speak, unable to even take a full breath.

He doesn't pull the whole way out, just an inch to start with. He pushes back in, studying your face. He does it again, a slightly longer pull and then push. You stare back at him, trying to read his expression. Trying to catch your breath, as it gets forced out of you with each thrust.

He's thrusting steadily now, pulling out of you more and more each time until you get the full length of him with every stroke. You huff out a breath each time, watching him as carefully as he's watching you.

"This is my favorite part." He tells you, kissing you on the lips briefly and then pulling back. "Now I get to figure out how to make you scream."

He reaches down, sets his huge hands on your hips and lifts them slightly. For a moment you think he's just trying to grab at your ass, but then his hands make your pelvis tilt. He pulls almost the whole way out of you, and then pushes -

"Oooaaaah!" You yell, the sound punched out of you as he slides home. He's rubbing against you differently now, his cock hitting new places, sending sensations through you that you've never felt before.

He smiles at you, cocky (hah!) and self-satisfied.

"There you go." He says, doing it again. And again. And again.

You're wailing steadily, making a sound that you've never made before. You don't feel embarrassed in the slightest - how could you when he's so obviously proud to be pulling those sounds from you? How could you deny him that? Could you deny him anything?

"See, here's what I think." He tells you, not losing his rhythm in the slightest. "I don't think your body is broken at all. I think it can feel everything just fine, only you've never had anyone touch you properly."

One hand stays on your hip, holding it in place, making sure you can't move away from his steady thrusts. Not that you'd want to. The other hand trails up your stomach, the light touch making goosebumps appear on your skin. He traces one of your nipples with a fingernail.

"I think your body didn't want to waste any pleasure on whoever fucked you before. Those guys didn't know what they were doing, didn't even try to find the spots that make your body sing." He's frowning now, rolling your nipple gently between two fingers. "Most guys, they get their dick wet, and as long as their girl doesn't sound uncomfortable, they just do whatever feels good to them until they get their rocks off."

You manage a "uh-huh" sound, the most you can contribute to the conversation. You feel like your lungs and your brain can barely keep up with what Chris is doing to you.

He leans closer to you and his hand on your hip moves, curling under your back to pull you up slightly to meet him. Your chests are flush now, his pecs rubbing up against your tits, his abs rolling against the tender skin of your belly. His roaming hand is rubbing the skin on the side of your breast, working towards your back. His mouth moves along the edge of your jaw, the top of your neck, switching between kissing, sucking and whispering more words to you. You close your eyes.

"Your body is made for pleasure." Chris kisses the words into your skin. "Your skin is so soft, so sensitive. You like the way I'm touching you with my hands? With my mouth?"

You groan out a "yes".

"See? You were meant to feel nothing less than all this pleasure, and God, it feels so good for me, too. I love the way your body feels under my hands. I want to touch every inch of your skin. I want to explore you and discover all the things no one else could teach you about your body. I want to feel your cunt clench my fingers so tight I think they're gonna break. I want to see your eyes roll back in your head. I want to hear you scream."

You're nearly screaming now. The sensations running through your body are pairing with the visuals he just described and winding you tighter and tighter.

"I want to find out if you can squirt. I want to lick you until I can't feel my mouth and you beg me to stop. I want to move you into every different position imaginable so you can feel them all and I can see your tits and ass jiggle from every angle. I want to see your face when I play with your asshole. I want to fuck you without a condom and fill you up with my cum."

"Chrissssss," you cry, your voice pleading with him though you don't even know what you're asking for.

He moves on top of you, shifting his weight to the arm behind your back. With his other hand, he cups your face. He kisses you, impossibly sweet considering the filth that just poured out of his mouth. His thrusts slow slightly. He holds your face and holds your gaze.

"I'm going to make you come now. I'm going to rub your clit, just the way you showed me you like best, until you come on my cock. And then I'm going to come inside you."

You nod your head, over and over, biting your lip.

"Are you ready?" He asks, as if there's any chance you would say no.

"Please!" You whine, and you feel tears in your eyes.

He kisses you, and then his fingers are on your clit. Oh - he really was paying attention. He's watching you carefully again, making sure he's doing it right. He even notices when you wince slightly, the touch too much for your overwhelmed clit. He moves just a little and his huge fingers rub you perfectly.

"I think your body knew." Chris says, and how is he holding a conversation right now? How can he speak when his body is moving around and inside of you like a force of nature?

"I think something deep inside of you knew, before we ever met, that I would treat your body right. All those times, I made you come without even touching you, without even being in the room. If I had that much power over you then, I think we both know what is going to happen now that I actually get to fuck you: I’m going to ruin you.”

His fingers move impossibly faster on your clit, the pressure building. He bites down on your bottom lip, and says, “Come for me, Sunshine. Now.”

And you do, because he’s right. He is ruining you. Your orgasm rushes through your body; your fingers scratching at his back, legs spasming where they’re hooked around his hips. You can feel the way you’re clenching around his cock, each pulse of your clit making you tighten around him. He’s smiling at you, dirty and mischievous, like he’s never seen anything hotter. He’s talking to you, but you can barely make out the words, your ears ringing and your brain filled with static.

“– just like I said. There you go. Good girl. Fuck, I couldnt believe how hot is was watching you come and getting to feel it around my dick is even better. God, you're holding me so tight.” He’s thrusting harder, faster, clearly chasing his own release now. You don’t look away, don’t even blink, desperate to see his face when he comes inside you. He’s panting now, still talking to you as he gets closer and closer.

“Maybe your body was made just for me, huh? I’m going to do everything to you. I’m going to fuck you until I forget my name and then do it over again. I’m going to - UHHH!”

He yells as he comes and you can feel his cock pulsing inside of you. His eyebrows knit together, his eyes wide, his mouth stretched open in a silent yell. His whole body rocks against you and he grinds himself into you as deep as he can, rubbing up against your exhausted clit. You can’t help but clench, your muscles milking every last drop out of him. You smooth your hands up and down his back, feeling the tension ease out of it as he comes down.

He ducks his head, kissing the base of your neck, your collarbones, biting gently at the top of one breast. “Fuuuuuck, Sunshine.” He moans against you.

You pet his sweaty hair, obscenely proud to have reduced this mountain of a man into the puddle on top of you.

His arms wrap around you and he rolls you gently to lay side by side, his cock softening but still big enough to stay inside you. He kisses you and you lose yourself in him, trying to hold onto every bit of pleasure as long as you possibly can.

Eventually you pull your head back, just enough that you can see his whole face, and the lazy grin spreading across it.

“Well, that definitely answered a bunch of my questions, Evans.” You tease him and he laughs. Yep, this new smile of his is definitely the best thing you’ve ever seen.

“I look forward to answering every single one, Sunshine.” He says, and he leans in to kiss you some more.

Next chapter

_____

Two weeks into the shoot, everything was going well: the directors were happy with the shots they were getting, production wasn't far enough behind schedule for you or anyone else to be worried, and people seemed to all be getting along.

Mostly.

You'd started hearing whispers behind your back. Sunshine - the silly nickname that had followed you around since college - had made it to this set as well. You'd worn a bright yellow shirt once in film school, and paired with your cheerful personality, the name had stuck. You'd even leaned into it, joking with them and painting the flowery sun from Tangled on your ever-present clipboard.

"He asked me why we call her that.” You overheard a lighting technician saying behind your back. “He thought we were being ironic, since the only time he's seen her smile was when craft services had chocolate mousse last week."

Yikes. You pretended to hear something on your headset, scribbling on your clipboard and nodding, hoping that the gossipers would assume you couldn’t hear them. Who says you can’t learn acting through osmosis?

"You're kidding!” The make-up artist was replying, “Our Sunshine? She's the reason it took so long to film the laundromat scene yesterday. No matter where she was standing, the actors could see how hard she was working to not laugh, and just her expression made them break. They finally had to send her out to get the take!"

Double yikes. Clearly the osmosis hadn’t helped your poker face.

"I know, but next time Chris is around, take a look at her. She's clenching her jaw hard enough to make a dentist worry."

"Wow. I wonder what that's about? I haven't had any issues with him. Not like last year, when we worked with..."

And the conversation moved away, both physically and thematically. You rubbed your forehead, an absent-minded gesture normally reserved for your worst migraines.

______

You made it to the halfway point in the shoot. You had tried, really tried to act more normal, more friendly around Chris, if only to prevent your coworkers from assuming he’d done something wrong.

But your plan to be more normal backfired. Without even trying, you said something that made him laugh and oh.

Oh.

His laugh was even better in person, and you couldn't help the shockwave of sensation that traveled through your body. Your cheeks flushed, blood rushing to your face and - uh - somewhere else, and you made an excuse to check on something somewhere else in the studio.

So you were back to clenching your jaw and turning a cold shoulder. You'd caught his slightly hurt expression out of the corner of your eye once, but you were determined to make it through filming. You were halfway, after all. You could make it three more weeks, couldn't you?

____

During the fourth week of filming, things started to fall apart. Everything that could go wrong did, and just when you’d gotten things rolling smoothly again, a lighting rig broke. The cast and crew were told to take a ten minute break while the techs tried to fix it, but then –

"Hey, Sunshine!” The director called over to you. “Can you let everybody know we're done for the day? They're not going to be able to get things fixed up 'til tomorrow morning."

You sighed, flashing the "OK" hand sign as you turned to track everyone down. Craft services was always your first stop when you needed to locate cast or crew, and had everyone you needed to check in with – except one.

Chris. Ugh. Of course.

So off you went to his trailer, silently cursing your aunt for buying you that shitty camcorder when you were twelve and igniting your passion for film. You reached the trailer, took a deep breath to steady yourself, and knocked. At the muffled, "Come in!" you opened the door and stepped inside.

Even though it was a Hollywood party, your friend assured there'd be plenty of non-celebrities there, so you were only a little nervous. You explore the space, a glass of Coke in hand, trying to scope out who you might want to get to know better - intimately, even.

Do normal icebreakers work at a sex party? Are you meant to chitchat? After touring the room, you decide to take a moment to just watch everyone, planning to mirror whatever behaviors you witness in the next five minutes. But then-

"First time?" A voice beside you asks. You turn to look at him, tall, strong, with a full-face mask, not just the standard masquerade eyes-only one that you and most party-goers have. Hmmmmm, he would do nicely.

"Nope, I've actually had Coke before." You say, trying to be funny, and by some miracle, he laughs. Oh. His laugh is lovely. "No, you're right. It is my first time at a party like this."

He playfully bumps his shoulder against yours. "Me too!" He replies, enthusiastically. "D'you have your eye on anyone yet?"

Should you be coy? What if he's just being friendly, and not actually interested in you?

Fuck it, you decide. You're here for super hot sex; why not go for this super hot guy?

You turn your body so that you're facing him. "I do. I have both eyes on him, in fact."

He looks at you carefully, like he wants to make sure he doesn't misinterpret your words.

"And what do you want to do with him, darling?" He asks, and you can't see his face, but somehow you can picture a sexy smirk on it. Why can you picture that so clearly?

"I just got out of a long relationship." You answer, not knowing how to be anything but candid. "I had the same mediocre sex for an embarrassing number of years. I want to find someone with a great dick who really knows how to use it."

All you can see are his eyes, but they're nearly black now, the pretty rings of blue eclipsed by his dilated pupils.

"Every guy's gonna tell you he has a great dick. And that he knows how to use it." He says, carefully. "How can you be sure you’re talking to someone who actually does?"

You shrug, unconcerned and smile at him. "It's a leap of faith, I guess. I've got a pretty good feeling about him though."

He nods.

"If you're willing to take me at my word, you might be pleased to know that I've received a number of compliments over the years, not just about my dick but also my technique."

Oh, you believe him, for sure. He's got an easy sexuality that is pulling you in. Still...

"A number of compliments?" You repeat.

"Yes ma'am."

"Zero is a number." You tease.

He laughs again, and you are definitely going to do whatever it takes to spend the night with him.

"Way more than zero, I promise. Can I tell you what I'm looking for tonight?" He asks, and fuck you can feel heat flooding between your legs.

"Uh-huh."

He leans in, and whispers. "I want to spend a long time eating someone out, and then, when I can't wait any longer, I want to fuck her until we both forget our names."

You shudder, you can't help it. Your cheeks feel hot, all of you feels hot - can he see the way you're flushing?

"What about your mask?" You ask, and he looks confused for a second. "How are you gonna eat pussy with a full mask on?"

He suddenly looks uncomfortable- the opposite of what you want.

"Hey," you say, putting a soothing hand on his arm, and trying to not obviously grope him while you're at it. "I totally respect it if you want to stay anonymous; that's why we're here. There's plenty of ways to work around it. You could have my mask if you want. I don't need the anonymity, personally. Or you could blindfold me. I just want you to be able to get everything you want from tonight."

His eyes soften and he loops both his arms around your waist. You preen a little, loving the contact.

"You're so fucking sweet. I want to spend the night with you. Do you want me, too?"

He's clearly also sweet, if he's making completely sure you're in instead of just pulling you away.

"Yeah, I really do." You tell him. Again, you can't see it, but you just know that he's smiling.

"I've got a room upstairs," he says, withdrawing his arms just to hold a polite hand out to you. "Would you like to accompany me?"

Christ, where did he come from? You take his hand.

"Lead the way."

"Chrisssss," you groan, desperately. "Stop messing with me."

He looks so innocent, way too innocent considering what he's doing to you.

"What do you mean, baby?" He asks, pretending not to know.

"Just let me come!" You beg.

"Aww, honey, you can't come?" He replies, as if it's news to him. "Why not? I'm fucking you so nicely, aren't I?"

He thrusts in and out of you, as if to demonstrate, but it's too slow to get you back to the edge you'd been so close to falling over.

"You are," you answer, still wanting to reassure him, even when he's being an asshole. "I just need more."

"More?" Chris asks, and now he's definitely playing with you. "I'm sorry that my cock isn't big enough for you, princess."

You groan, because that's not what you meant and he knows it.

"You're perfect," you huff out. "Your dick is enormous; I just need you to use it right. I was so close to coming and then you slowed down."

"Is it so bad I want to cherish you?" He questions, still full of shit. "Does it have to be a race to the finish?"

"Look, you can either fuck me properly or I'll do it myself." You say, patience wearing thin. "You can cherish me as much as you want once you've made me fucking come."

He considers this, then speeds up his thrusts.

"How's that?" He asks, knowing full well how it is. You moan out your answer, finally feeling the pleasure racing through your body again.

He tilts your hips a little, and now his pubic bone is grinding perfectly against yours. You clit is throbbing, and you're starting to spiral deeper and deeper into the sensation, throwing your head back, grabbing at his arms when--

"Actually, maybe we should try a different position." He says, and his body withdraws from yours. You scream, a frustrated, angry yell.

"For FUCK'S sake, Chris!"

"What? I've got a cramp in my calf. Can we move around a little?" And fuck him, he is too good of an actor. If you didn't know what an absolute menace he is, you might even believe him.

You crash your body into him, and even though you're no match for his size or strength, he falls backwards onto the mattress. He smiles at you, and now you wonder if this was his plan all along.

You grab his cock and guide it into you, sinking down onto it in one steady, smooth glide. You both groan when your ass hits his thighs and you grind your pelvises together.

"Okay." You tell him, "I'm going to make myself come and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

He leans up on his elbows, catching your lips in a kiss as you start to bounce on his dick. He pulls away and gives you a dirty smile, whispering,

He crosses the bedroom to one of the bedside tables, and, well, let's just say you're glad to be able to see long enough to stare at his trouser-covered ass. Mmmmm. He turns a little to sort through a drawer, and your view of his ass is obstructed now, but you can see it so clearly in your mind's eye that you almost feel like you've been staring at it for years. But that's not possi-

Wait, did these rooms come pre-stocked with kinky supplies, or did he bring them with him? You don't get the chance, because he's walking back to you with a gorgeous piece of navy blue satin in his hands.

"I know you said you're not worried about your anonymity," he says as he walks back to you, "But do you want me to turn around and you can put this on yourself?"

You're shy for a moment. Sure, you're about to take your clothes off for him, but there's a different intimacy involved in showing your face.

"How about this?" You suggest. You take the blindfold from his hands and turn around.

You pull off your masquerade mask and toss it on the floor. Then, you place the center of the fabric across your eyes, holding the ends against the back of your head. "Tie it for me?"

"Sure, baby," he says, his voice soft and sexy. His fingers trail against yours as he takes the satin into his hands. You feel the fabric tug as he starts to make the knot. "Lemme know if this tugs on your hair or if anything doesn't feel good, okay?"

"It's good." You reply, and now he's smoothing your hair, petting you gently.

"Would you turn around for me now?" He asks, and fuck yeah you will. It's hard not to whip around, but you try to take your time, moving carefully so you don't trip on your own two feet.

"Can I kiss you now?" He says, and God, he's got a hand cupping your cheek so sweetly.

"Yes please," you answer, and you have to wait a moment, not even breathing, before his lips touch yours.

Oh.

His lips are soft but firm, and he kisses you like he's about to consume you. You moan into the kiss grabbing at his broad shoulders. His tongue licks across your lips and you immediately open your mouth, needing to invite him inside of you. He groans and twists a hand into your hair, just shy of being painful.

You need more. It hasn't even been a minute but you're already desperate for him, desperate to start what he described downstairs.

You're sure he's strong enough to hold you so you decide to take a chance. You wrap your arms around his neck and jump up to curl your legs around his waist. He groans again, and takes a step forward to push your back against the wall. You use the leverage to grind up against him, and oh fuck! If he's already this hard, you're in for a good night. And if that's what he feels like only semi-hard? Well, you might not survive.

You have no idea how long you make out like that. Long enough that you can tell you're soaked, the fabric of your panties making your grinding less enjoyable by the minute. Maybe he can tell, or maybe he's also ready for more, because he leans away from the wall a little, wrapping his arms around your back and carrying you to the bed.

He eases you down gently, your back and ass on the bed with your legs hanging off. He hasn't stopped kissing you, but now he's pulling your clothes off, clearly impatient and wanting you naked.

You haven't been naked in front of a new man in a really long time, and you're just starting to get in your own head about it when he pulls away.

"Shit, baby," he groans. "You're so fucking gorgeous. You wanted to know what was under my clothes, and you were hiding all of this the whole time? Fuck!"

Your heart pounds, relief and excitement flooding your body. He's still not touching you, and you're about to say something when a warm mouth closes over one of your nipples.

"Oh!" You yell, surprised and overwhelmed as a hand comes to squeeze at your other breast. You're not sure what to do, so you grab blindly for his head, holding it to your chest as you moan and squirm. He switches sides and you gasp, feeling his fingers pinching at your spit-slick nipple. Eventually, he pulls away.

"You feeling good?" He asks, and, uh… can't he tell?

"Uh-huh!" You manage to say, nodding your head and biting your lip. You don't think you've ever been this turned on before in your life. Why did you ever bother sleeping with anyone who wasn't this mystery man?

"Are you ready for more?"

"Yes!" You cry, desperate for whatever it is he's thinking of.

"You want me to eat your pussy?"

Are you dead? You must be dead. This can't really be happening, can it?

"Oh, God, please," you beg, your hands scrambling to touch as much of him as you can.

He's still dressed, and you want to feel his skin under your fingers. "Wait, can you take off your clothes first?"

He chuckles, surprised, but you can hear fabric rustling as he says, "Sure, babe." There's a clink of a belt and then the gentle thump of clothes hitting the floor.

But then he's between your legs - he must be kneeling on the floor - and his hands are on your thighs. You place your hands on his shoulders, exploring the bare skin with your fingertips. You feel a necklace chain around his nsck, and roll it between your fingers.

"Ready?" He asks, and you could scream.

"Yes!"

And then his mouth is on you, kissing your thighs, your pubic mound, everywhere except where you need it most.

"Please!" You do scream this time, unabashedly needing more.

"Please what?" He says, and fuck, if your desire doesn't kill you, you might have to kill him.

"Please eat my pussy!" You cry, and you feel a couple tears start to wet your blindfold.

"Good girl," he moans, and then his mouth is on your cunt. You moan, too. He's licking your labia, teasing your folds with his tongue, exploring and acquainting himself. You grab his head again, twining your fingers in his short hair. His whole mouth seals around your hole and you groan.

"D'you always get this wet, darling?" He asks, his voice dripping with sex.

"No," you admit, because it's true; you don't think you've ever been this wet before.

"Aww, really? This is all for me? You really are a good girl, then, getting so wet and ready for me."

Your thighs are shaking now, and you're having to actively work to not clamp your thighs on his head.

The pressure of his tongue changes, moving from wide to focused, and then his tongue dips into your cunt. He groans, and you feel the noise vibrate through you.

"You taste so fucking good, baby. Such a sweet little pussy."

You groan, not knowing which is pleasing you more: his mouth or his words. You tightened your grip on his head, trying to tie yourself down so you don't burst into a thousand little pieces.

"What d'ya want, huh? Want me to suck your clit or fuck your cunt with my tongue? Or should I switch back and forth between the two?"

"Clit!"

It's starting to throb angrily, jealous of the attention the rest of the area is getting.

"Thanks for telling me, honey. I’m gonna give you everything you want tonight, okay? Just keep letting me know what you need."

And then his tongue licks a path up your folds, touching ever so lightly against your clit. You thrust your hips up; you can't stop it, but he can. He lays a thick, powerful forearm across your stomach, holding you still. His lips wrap around your clit and now he's sucking, really sucking.

It's amazing how quickly you rocket towards orgasm. Sure, you've basically been turned on since he first spoke to you, but you're almost dizzy with the way your whole body is responding to the stimulation, getting ready to fall over the edge.

“I wish I knew your name,” you ramble, nearly sobbing. “I want to yell it when I come.”

His mouth stills. Maybe you’ve gone too far. You can’t see, but you can feel his eyes on you, evaluating you. You’re about to take it back, apologize, when he speaks first.

“You can call me Chris.” He says softly.

“Chris!” You cry, “Please! I’m so close. Please make me come!”

You hear a loud, shuddering breath, and you feel a finger tracing gently around your clit.

“Do I get to know your name, too?” He asks, and you tell it to him. He repeats it back thoughtfully. “Can you promise me one thing?”

“Of course!” You gasp, and, foolishly, you would. Anything, no matter what he asked.

“Promise me you’ll keep making all those amazing noises. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in my life.”

That’s easy: there’s no way you could be quiet while enduring this much pleasure. You’re nodding, too overwhelmed by the thought that he likes the sounds you make to answer properly. You stroke his face with your hand, hoping he knows what it means to you.

His lips return to your clit, and you're catapulted back to the edge as if he'd never stopped sucking you. You call his name, over and over, and his fingers tighten on your thighs. Now that you know his name, you can't keep it out of your mouth. Later, you'll realize that him placing that trust in you only made you more desperate for him.

He's humming against you now, and you can hear a high-pitched whine leaking out of your mouth. It's hard not being able to see him. You want a deeper connection than you currently have, so you move one hand away from his head to grab his hand on your thigh. You pull it away, lacing your fingers together and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. Okay.

"Chris," you sob, "I'm gonna come. Fuck. Chris, please-"

He hums again, as if to say, "Come for me." The weight on your stomach leaves - he must have moved his arm - and one huge finger slides into your vagina. Your muscles tighten at the intrusion, and that's it.

"Chris!" You scream, thrashing on the bed now that he's no longer pinning you down. Your orgasm moves through you like a force of nature, calling every part of your body to respond. You’re shaking from head to toe, legs spasming, knees bumping into his head. You’re holding his hand so tightly that you probably should be worried about hurting him. You’re throbbing, your clit and your cunt pulsing in a joined rhythm, like they’re trying to pull his finger deeper into you.

You hear static for a moment, and when your hearing comes back online, you can hear that Chris is whispering to you as he places gentle kisses on your labia.

“-so good for me. Fuck, I can’t believe how tightly you were clenching my finger. Just one finger, and still so tight! What’s it gonna be like when I get my whole dick in you, huh? God, that was so lovely, baby. You did such a good job. Felt good, huh? I could tell. I saw the way you came with your whole body, not just your cunt. What a sight! So glad you wanted me, so glad you said yes when I asked you to come up here with me.”

You’ve half a mind to just let him keep talking and see what he says next, but in your post-orgasmic haze, you’re desperate for more contact.

“Chris?” You say, tentatively.

“Uh-huh?” He asks, and his mouth leaves you, his body pulling away, like he wants to see your face.

“Would you mind holding me for a minute? Is that okay?”

You can tell that he moves instantly, his hands leaving your body as he stands up.

“Of course it is, baby! Here, lemme help you scootch up the bed, okay?”

His hands are back on you, one on your side and another on your arm. You probably could have managed this yourself, but you’re not exactly about to turn down his touch. He guides you on the bed until you feel pillows, and then his enormous body curls around you like you’re his teddybear.

“How’s that?”

“Perfect,” you answer, before you can stop yourself. It really is perfect. Can you stay like this forever? You’ve never felt more comfortable in your life, endorphins racing through you and a strong, sexy man wrapped around you. “Can you keep talking? I really liked that.”

“Huh?” He says, and you wonder if he’d barely even noticed that he was speaking his stream-of-consciousness out loud. “Sure, darling. Let’s see, uh, I’m so glad that we did this. And we’re not even done yet! We can do that, over and over, as much as you want. I’d be a very happy man if you let me spend all night with my mouth on your cunt. Except that I do really want to get to fuck you, if that’s still what you want. I can’t even imagine how good that would be. Maybe we’ll even–”

Yeah, this is perfect.

To be continued