something practical to be used for a purpose. A function.
In front of Dan, I’d become more than hip and thigh and cunt. He looked at my body knowing my real name, the way I drank my tea, the sound of my laughter. My nakedness came from what he knew about me, what I had let him know, those tiny, irrevocable intimacies I never share with anyone.
“The rest. Take those off, too.” His voice had grown thick, proof of his desire, and it gave me courage.
This part I knew. How a glimpse of pink could render a man mindless. We all have the same parts, us women, yet every man I’ve ever been with has looked at me as though he’s never seen a naked woman before. There is power in our bodies that men don’t have, secret and hidden places they yearn to explore over and over. Women’s bodies hold the mystery of blood and life, not just pleasure.
I reached behind me to unhook my bra, the movement thrusting my breasts forward. I watched him watch me as I let the straps fall down my shoulders. As I let the cups fall away to reveal my flesh.
He leaned back against the couch, his cock pushing at the front of his khaki pants. I wasn’t the only one flushing. Red tinged his cheeks, too, and he licked his mouth as he watched me.
“The panties.”
I hooked my thumbs in the sides of the lace and eased them over my hips. I did it slowly, enjoying the look on his face as he focused. I parted my thighs and cocked my hip, slid the fabric down my ass and over my thighs, then let them fall to my ankles. I stepped out of them and stood, at last, completely naked.
“Fuck,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Turn around.”
I did, one rotation.
“Touch yourself.”
The request surprised me but I was already complying. I held my breasts, my nipples responding to my touch as quickly as if my hands were his. I slid my thumbs over the tight buds, then ran my hands down my sides, over my belly, down my thighs. I put one hand over the hair between my legs, cupping my center and pressing the heel of my hand against my clit.
“Fucking hell, you’re hot.”
My flush grew deeper, more blush than flush this time. His praise thrilled me and eased the fear that always accompanies being naked in front of another.
“Elle,” Dan said, “tell me you want me to fuck you.”
Simple words to describe an act with so much variation.
“Oh,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Dan, I want you to fuck me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. I will never forget the feeling of standing naked in front of him that first time. How he looked at my body as not pieces, but as a whole, woven together by those small things about me I’d allowed him to know.
He was on his feet without hesitation. His hands on my hips pulled me against him as his mouth found my throat. He kissed me there, then on my shoulder, then bent his knees to reach the tops of my breasts. His hands roamed my skin, cupped my buttocks, pressed the small of my back, traced the edges of my shoulder blades.
“Put your arms around me.”
I did. He put his hands under my thighs and lifted me. It was sudden and took me unawares. I am not a small woman and he not a large man. It didn’t matter. I wrapped my legs around him, the fabric of his oxford shirt rubbing my clit deliciously enough to make me whimper.
He took me to the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him, I don’t know how. I could only hang on and pray we didn’t end up on the floor. He didn’t drop me. He laid me down on the bed as skillfully as if it had risen to meet us. He covered me with his body, kissed me all over. Every place but my mouth, because I had told him no.
Together we worked the buttons on his shirt with far less grace than I’d used on mine. One flew off and spanged against the wall. Another refused to come free and tore the hole until it slipped out. His skin beneath was smooth and covered with crisp, curling hair over muscles that shifted under my fingers as he tore his
In front of Dan, I’d become more than hip and thigh and cunt. He looked at my body knowing my real name, the way I drank my tea, the sound of my laughter. My nakedness came from what he knew about me, what I had let him know, those tiny, irrevocable intimacies I never share with anyone.
“The rest. Take those off, too.” His voice had grown thick, proof of his desire, and it gave me courage.
This part I knew. How a glimpse of pink could render a man mindless. We all have the same parts, us women, yet every man I’ve ever been with has looked at me as though he’s never seen a naked woman before. There is power in our bodies that men don’t have, secret and hidden places they yearn to explore over and over. Women’s bodies hold the mystery of blood and life, not just pleasure.
I reached behind me to unhook my bra, the movement thrusting my breasts forward. I watched him watch me as I let the straps fall down my shoulders. As I let the cups fall away to reveal my flesh.
He leaned back against the couch, his cock pushing at the front of his khaki pants. I wasn’t the only one flushing. Red tinged his cheeks, too, and he licked his mouth as he watched me.
“The panties.”
I hooked my thumbs in the sides of the lace and eased them over my hips. I did it slowly, enjoying the look on his face as he focused. I parted my thighs and cocked my hip, slid the fabric down my ass and over my thighs, then let them fall to my ankles. I stepped out of them and stood, at last, completely naked.
“Fuck,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “Turn around.”
I did, one rotation.
“Touch yourself.”
The request surprised me but I was already complying. I held my breasts, my nipples responding to my touch as quickly as if my hands were his. I slid my thumbs over the tight buds, then ran my hands down my sides, over my belly, down my thighs. I put one hand over the hair between my legs, cupping my center and pressing the heel of my hand against my clit.
“Fucking hell, you’re hot.”
My flush grew deeper, more blush than flush this time. His praise thrilled me and eased the fear that always accompanies being naked in front of another.
“Elle,” Dan said, “tell me you want me to fuck you.”
Simple words to describe an act with so much variation.
“Oh,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Dan, I want you to fuck me.”
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more. I will never forget the feeling of standing naked in front of him that first time. How he looked at my body as not pieces, but as a whole, woven together by those small things about me I’d allowed him to know.
He was on his feet without hesitation. His hands on my hips pulled me against him as his mouth found my throat. He kissed me there, then on my shoulder, then bent his knees to reach the tops of my breasts. His hands roamed my skin, cupped my buttocks, pressed the small of my back, traced the edges of my shoulder blades.
“Put your arms around me.”
I did. He put his hands under my thighs and lifted me. It was sudden and took me unawares. I am not a small woman and he not a large man. It didn’t matter. I wrapped my legs around him, the fabric of his oxford shirt rubbing my clit deliciously enough to make me whimper.
He took me to the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him, I don’t know how. I could only hang on and pray we didn’t end up on the floor. He didn’t drop me. He laid me down on the bed as skillfully as if it had risen to meet us. He covered me with his body, kissed me all over. Every place but my mouth, because I had told him no.
Together we worked the buttons on his shirt with far less grace than I’d used on mine. One flew off and spanged against the wall. Another refused to come free and tore the hole until it slipped out. His skin beneath was smooth and covered with crisp, curling hair over muscles that shifted under my fingers as he tore his
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