Hard As Rock (19 page)

Which sealed it for me.

I gently opened my mouth and took his head all the way inside me… and then went down a couple more inches. He was definitely thick. I had to be careful not to brush my teeth against his sensitive skin.

He was basically reduced to a quivering, trembling mess as I slowly worked my way up, then back down his shaft, never taking more than I wanted, but enjoying every single inch that I took. I enjoyed the salty tang of his pre-cum as I smelled the musk of his body, his sweat, his desire – and then I couldn’t take anymore. What my tongue was enjoying, I wanted to feel inside my pussy.

I pulled my mouth away with a wet pop and looked up at him.

The look of gratitude he gave me was so intense, I couldn’t do anything but smile.

“I really enjoyed that… but I need you inside me now,” I whispered.

“…okay,” he said, wide-eyed and amazed, and then quickly ripped open one of the condom packets.

I played with his balls, cupping them, tickling them as he unrolled the condom over his cock. As soon as he was covered, I lay down on the bed and beckoned to him with my eyes and open legs.

He got on the mattress and positioned himself above me, his long legs between mine. I watched as his cock paused in the air just inches above my pussy.

“Is your ankle okay?” he whispered.

“Uh-huh,” I said, unable to take my eyes off his cock. Only when he slowly lowered his body and I could feel the tip against my lips did I look into his eyes.

He cupped my face tenderly in his hands and stared into my eyes as I felt him slowly enter me.

Oh my God.

I tried to stay with him, but my eyes rolled back in my head at the pleasure spreading through my pussy. After weeks of having sex at least twice a day, I had gone a month without… and because of all my depression and sadness, I hadn’t masturbated once. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I felt Ryan enter me, thick and hard and full.

I moaned and gripped his back as he slid all the way inside me. I felt his mouth on mine, and I opened my lips to his tongue. As he rocked in and out of me, I wrapped my legs around his calves and thrust my pelvis against his.

He started kissing my ear, nibbling the earlobe. I moaned louder and clutched at his ass as he drove himself inside me over and over. I could feel my orgasm building, the honey sweetness cresting, and suddenly I was crying out – and then he was crying out, too. Amidst all my contractions, I felt his cock pulse inside me, throbbing, and I clawed at his back and tried to pull him as deep inside me as I could.

Within ten seconds, he stopped moving and collapsed on top of me, his breathing heavy. I just lay there, my eyes closed, feeling the final sweet aftershocks of orgasm as I held him there inside me, not wanting to let go.

He finally propped himself up on his elbows and gazed into my eyes. He smiled and whispered, “Thank you,” and kissed me long and deep as I ran my fingers through his damp, tousled hair.

After he got rid of the condom, we lay next to each other for the longest time, talking and softly touching each other’s bodies. His fingers trailed down my arm, always returning to my breasts, softly brushing my nipples with the tips of his fingers.
I
was fascinated with the pronounced edges of his lower abs. I kept tracing up them to his lean stomach, then back down, detouring to stroke the damp thatch of curls at the base of his cock.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I knew what he was asking.

He was asking about me and Derek.

“Yeah… I am,” I said, and it was true. I felt no remorse, no guilt, no shame… just a calm peacefulness.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for four years,” he said.

I smiled at him. “I’m glad we finally got to.”

“Me, too.”

He kissed me softly.

When he pulled away, I looked at him. “It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it?”

“Four years is pretty long, yeah.”

“No, I meant… the last person you were with was your ex… and then you broke up a month before I showed up… and then it was over two more months until now…”

No wonder he was acting like he’d seen the face of God when I was going down on him.

“Well, I had a few dates here and there.”

My whole body stiffened, and I felt myself recoil. “…what?”

He held up his hands. “With Betty and Veronica.”

I started grinning, totally relieved. “Okay… well, I hope they appreciate your, uh, Archie.”

We both burst out laughing at that.

“Oh, please, God, don’t call it that,” he groaned.

“…Jughead?”

In response, he started tickling me. But as I shrieked with laughter, I kept calling out names: “Reggie?… Mr. Weatherby?… Miss Grundy?… ”

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore and gasped, “Okay, okay, okay! No more Archie names!”

He stopped.

But I couldn’t help myself.

“…Richie Rich?”

The tickling started again, with me alternately shrieking and screaming out cartoon character names – “Mr. Magoo! Yogi Bear! Boo Boo! Huckleberry Hound!” – until I was a crying, laughing mess.

“Stop, stop!” I screamed, and he stopped immediately.

I wiped the tears from my eyes.

And, I swear to God, I couldn’t stop.

“…Woody Woodpecker?”

The tickling started all over again, as did the screaming and laughing.

After I finally agreed not to name his package after any cartoon characters, I got to thinking again. “If you were always on tour, did Kristin go along with you?”

“You sure are interested about women from my past,” he teased.

“I’m just curious. How often did you see each other?”

“Not much.”

“Huh. So when you got together, it must have been Sex-a-palooza, huh?”

He frowned slightly. “Why are you asking me this?”

I didn’t know at the time. I thought I was just being curious. But in retrospect, I think that I was somehow distancing myself from him. From the emotional aspects of having sex with him. If I talked about him sleeping with his ex, that meant whatever was going on between us wasn’t that serious. It was easy, casual, no big deal.

I think I wanted it to be that way because I knew that for Ryan, it was a
very
big deal.

And I was scared of that.

I had just come out of a situation where Derek hurt me worse than I thought I could ever be hurt. I had no desire to put myself in that position again.

Also, to be truthful, I wasn’t over him yet. Not entirely.

So I was being light and breezy and asking all sorts of questions I might not want to hear if I were head-over-heels in love with a guy. Especially if he started asking while we were naked in bed for the first time.

But, as I said, I didn’t figure any of that out until later.

“I’m just curious, that’s all,” I said. “You’re all ‘Mr. Rock Star’ who could be sleeping with women left and right, and you chose a girlfriend you didn’t see very often. So I figured you must have slept with her a lot when you
did
see her.”

His frown lessened, but not by much. He shrugged and said absentmindedly, “I don’t know. I guess. We spent a lot of time OMing, actually.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “What?”

“Oh… it’s this thing Kristin was into. She taught me, and… well… we did it a lot.”

“What did you call it?”

“OMing.” It sounded like Oh-ming. “It’s short for ‘orgasmic meditation,’ but they pronounce it like the mantra in yoga classes. OM… meditation… get it?”

I imagined a bunch of naked people sitting cross-legged and chanting. “So is it some sort of Tantric thing? Like Sting having sex with his wife for six hours?”

“No, although it did originally come from a Buddhist meditative practice. It’s basically this thing where the guy strokes the woman’s clitoris in a specific spot and gives her a fifteen-minute orgasm.”

Okay, HELLO.

I sat up on my elbow. “What?!”

He laughed. “It’s not exactly what you’re thinking. This place in San Francisco that trained us – well, they trained
me,
Kristin already knew how to do it – ”

“There are people who train you how to do it?!”

“Yeah, it’s this company called OneTaste. Anyway, they don’t define ‘orgasm’ the way people normally talk about it. When you say ‘orgasm,’ most people think of the male version – a steep incline up, then climax, then you fall off sharply. OneTaste says the female model of orgasm is more like rolling waves that can keep slowly going up and up and up, cresting to new heights, but never totally peaking or ending.”

My mouth was getting dry… but someplace else was getting very wet. “So the guy does what again?”

“He strokes what they call the 1 o’clock spot on the woman’s clitoris for 15 minutes.”

“And what does the girl do to the guy?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?!”

“Nope. She just lies there and lets him stroke her. Her whole thing is she’s supposed to concentrate on the feelings in her body, just like she would concentrate on her breathing if she were meditating the usual way.”

“But doesn’t she do something to get him off?!”

“Nope.”

“…so what does the guy get out of it?”

Ryan grinned. “A superpower.”

Holy SHIT.

“That sounds like a hell of a superpower.”

He laughed. “I liked it.”

“…and you did this… OMing thing with her?”

“Yeah.”

“A couple times, or…?”

“No… a lot
,
actually.”

A lot, actually.

For the first time, I was starting to get a little jealous. “…could you… do it to me?”

He smiled. “You want to?”

“Have a fifteen minute orgasm? Hm, let me think for a second – YEAH, I wouldn’t mind that.”

He laughed. “Okay, just remember, it’s not what you’re expecting. You’re probably thinking you’re going to be climaxing for fifteen minutes straight, and it’s not that at all. It’s more of a gentle, gradually increasing series of contractions.”

“Yeah, yeah – I’ll take any fifteen-minute orgasm I can get, thank you very much.”

He laughed again and got up from the bed. “Okay, I’ll be back in a second.”

I frowned. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get some lube.”

What?!

I gestured to my nether regions. “Kind of got the lubrication thing already going.”

“Trust me… you’ll want more,” he said, then walked out my bedroom door.

I lay there, a little excited, a little nervous, wondering exactly what I had gotten myself into. A company that teaches guys to give women fifteen-minute orgasms? And the guys don’t get anything out of it other than a sense of satisfaction?

What guy would
do
that?

None I’d encountered, anyway.

I kind of expected Ryan to walk back in carrying an armload of hardcore S&M equipment, or something equally freaky, but nope; when he reappeared, all he was carrying was a small glass jar and his cell phone.

“What’s that?” I asked as he got on the bed and unscrewed the cap on the jar.

“The lube.”

It looked like yellow paste and had a slightly familiar odor.

“Is that coconut?”

“Yeah. You allergic to coconut?”

“No… do you
lick
it off or something?”

He grinned. “No, they just make their lube out of coconut oil, that’s all. All-natural and organic.”

“Huh…”

He started tapping on the phone.

“…what are you doing?” I asked, then teased him, “Do you have to look up the instructions on how to do this again?”

He grinned. “No, I’m just setting the fifteen-minute timer.”

“There’s a
timer?
You’re actually going to time my orgasm?!”

“No, just the amount of time that we do it. It’s a very ritualized, standardized practice with a lot of rules.”

“Like what?”

“Well… we’re already breaking most of them, but since we just slept together, I don’t think it’s a big deal,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Normally the guy remains completely clothed, and the woman just disrobes the lower half of her body.”

“They don’t get naked?”

“This is a meditative practice,” he explained patiently, “not sex. Normally people don’t have sex before or afterwards, they just OM.”

“Huh,” I muttered. “So… what other rules?”

“Normally the guy wears gloves for safe-sex reasons.”

“You just said it wasn’t sex.”

“To eliminate any possibility of catching anything, then.”

“Oh.”

“So, anyway, I’m going to explain what I do to you before I do it, so you’ll know and be able to relax, okay?” As he talked to me, he stood up, grabbed a couple of pillows, and put them on either side of my legs. “A big part of this is getting the woman to feel safe and relaxed enough to sink into her orgasm.”

“Okay…” I agreed, not feeling very relaxed as he hit the timer on the phone.

“Okay, normally I’d be straddling you and sitting on cushions, but I think I can get a little closer considering the last hour,” he grinned as he laid next to me, but with his head even with my hips. “Now, bend your knees, butterfly your legs out, and let them rest on the pillows.”

“…really?”

“Really.”

“But… I’ll be… like, wide open.”

What I didn’t say was,
With my va-jay-jay on full display like a buffet table.

“That’s the idea,” he said. “I need to get access to your clit.”

“…okay…”

I followed his instructions and let my legs fall open, and for the first time I felt really nervous. He could see me down there –
all
of me.

“Okay, first I’m going to touch your legs and apply some grounding pressure.”

“Some what?”

“Just relax.”

He placed the palms of his hands against my thighs and began to press firmly but gently.
Mmmm.
It felt good. Every twenty seconds or so he would move his hands to another spot on my legs – my inner thighs, my knees, my calves – and press again.

I gradually began to relax. I closed my eyes and just drifted, feeling the soft pressure on my skin.