A/N: I'm late on this, but it's extra long to make up for it. Thank you for reviews!
Thursday January 8th 8:07pm
Sheldon is standing in the hall, preparing to knock on Penny's door. She has insisted on choosing what they will watch tonight, and he wants to be annoyed because they're barely into season two of Star Trek, but it's hard to be annoyed when he's so nervous.
He's come to the conclusion, since she left last night and he masturbated in the bathroom twice before going to bed, that they are not going to be sexually compatible. Until this point in his life, he's never had the opportunity to judge whether he will be aggressive or passive in a sexual scenario, and it is becoming clear to him that he is more aggressive. Last night, after his first orgasm in the shower, he had been brushing his teeth when he was struck with the image of bending Penny over the bathroom counter, his hand fisted around her ponytail like it had been on the couch, and penetrating her quite roughly. While he had masturbated a second time to the image, bent over the counter thrusting into his hand, in the cold light of post-ejaculation he became aware that if Penny is truly as aggressive sexually as she once claimed, she will probably not enjoy this side of him.
It is confusing and frustrating: he has never actually found a woman viscerally attractive before — he has acknowledged the beauty in plenty of people, certainly, but it has never impacted him as it does with Penny. He has never known what it's like to want someone the way he wants Penny, so exploring his sexual persona outside of fantasies built on sexual research tomes has been a moot point. This is despite infatuated grad students throwing themselves at him with some regularity each fall. He could have had sex with any of them; he's sure of it. But he simply...hasn't ever wanted to, and it has always been easier to avoid acknowledging the option than to explain his choice. The ramifications of sexual intercourse, particularly on an expected emotional level, have never seemed worth it, and it has always been easier to ignore his drive for sex. So it is particularly cruel that he should find himself to be sexually incompatible with the only woman to have aroused him in this manner.
These thoughts are still swirling in his mind when Penny's door opens and she steps out with a concerned look on her face.
"You're late." She narrows her eyes at him and it makes his heart pound harder because Penny has never cared for promptness, but she's worried over eight minutes because he is the one who is tardy.
"I apologize. I have been contemplating thoughts that are somewhat distressing." Her eyes widen at this statement, and she reaches for his hand, pulling him inside. He takes his seat on her couch and is gratified when she sits sideways in his lap, her legs stretched across the empty side of the couch.
"What is it, sweetie?"
"I don't believe we are sexually compatible, Penny." He avoids looking at her as he speaks, keeping his eyes focused on one of the Japanese cats on her shorts.
"That...is not something I have worried about at all," she assures him, laughter in her voice, but he brushes it off.
"You told me once that you prefer to initiate your sexual encounters, which should indicate that your ideal mate is sexually passive." He can almost sense the confusion running off of her in waves, and he realizes that he never told her about his subterfuge in filling out the survey for the dating website. When she finally remembers the event in question, she laughs. "Until recently, I did not know whether I fell into the sexually passive or aggressive category, but, Penny, I..."
"You were aggressive last night," she supplies and he glances up, meeting her eyes, remembering the foreign territorial urges that sprang up within him as Leonard goaded him about having Penny on his Halo team. "I liked that a lot, Sheldon." He can see the signs of arousal in her eyes, in her parted lips, in the flush staining her cheeks.
"There's more than that, though. Last night, after you left, I was in the bathroom and I..."
"You jacked off?" He can feel himself blushing at her coarse language, but the embarrassment is tempered with arousal.
"I imagined you. I imagined holding you down, bent over the counter. And I was pulling your ponytail, making you arch your back so I could bite your neck. And I was..." He can't bring himself to finish, but she's nodding.
"Would you like to know what I thought about?" Her voice sounds one part amused, one part aroused, and he nods. "The way you were holding me down on the couch, with my arms over my head." He flushes at the memory of pinning her like that, a fantasy image that invaded his mind as they fought over Halo. "I imagined that you held me like that, Sheldon, and pulled off my shorts and fucked me, hard." Her face is two inches from his, and he leans down to kiss her, his hands grasping the sides of her head none too gently. She moves to straddle his lap, and he groans when she breaks the kiss to grind her sex against his growing erection.
She winks at him slyly, and then rises to her knees and leans backwards, arching her spine gracefully in a move that appears to have been appropriated from a very flexible stripper, and grabs an elastic hair tie off of the table. He watches, captivated, as she rights herself, still raised on her knees, and pulls her hair into a high pony tail. Slowly, she drops herself back down, once again bringing their bodies into full contact. She reaches for his left hand and guides it to the pony tail.
"Penny." He inhales deeply, trying to keep some semblance of control, and she smiles at him.
"I think your fantasy sounds hot, Sheldon." And then she kisses him, moaning into his mouth when he tugs gently on her hair. And any hope he had of keeping control is gone.
He releases his grasp on her hair just long enough to rip her tank top over her head, and then grabs her ponytail again, this time closer to the root.
"Take off your bra," he grinds out the order against her neck, and she immediately complies, her arms stretched behind her as the lacy pink undergarment goes slack. She hasn't even gotten it off of her arms when he slides his mouth down her neck to pull her left nipple into his mouth.
"Oh, God...Sheldon," she moans, and the sound makes him pull away, or rather, it makes him tug her hair so she's no longer pressed so closely against him.
He drops his hands to his sides, closes his eyes, begins to silently recite pi, and tries desperately to slow his breathing and control himself. It takes 70 digits before he can speak, but he still can't open his eyes.
"So, you were lying about your sexual proclivities? Or are you humoring me? Am I...am I forcing you to behave in a manner that runs counter to your preferences?" He still can't quite get control of his breath, consumed with the knowledge that her bare breasts are just in front of him, even if he's not looking.
"Sheldon, look at me." He shakes his head, keeping his eyes tightly shut, and is surprised when her fingers thread through the hair on the back of his head looking for a handful to grip. She finds it and tugs, hard. "I said look at me, Sheldon."
He obeys, his eyes snapping open and meeting hers before drifting down to her breasts and back up. She smiles at him and rises up on her knees so she's above him, her breasts now almost level with his mouth. She tugs his head backwards with the hand still fisted in his hair, and then leans over him in a deep kiss. He responds enthusiastically, and she smiles against him. When she releases his hair and pulls away, he follows her lips, unwilling to let the kiss end.
"Sheldon," she whispers against his lips, and he opens his eyes. "No couple is ever the same, okay? And I've never been with a man who made me feel comfortable with giving up control. I've always been the aggressor. I like being the aggressor." He nods, watching her face closely, looking for any signs of dishonesty. "At the same time, sweetie, I don't care what the dating site said, it's no fun being aggressive with someone totally passive. You've gotta have...a challenge." Her eyes flash dangerously, and he has a 'eureka moment.'
Penny is the first woman interested in him sexually who presents a challenge, who doesn't worship him, who isn't interested in being his personal servant. If he believed in pop psychology, he'd think that it's also because she's actually a lot like his mother (minus the Jesus obsession, though astrology isn't terribly far off even if it comes with less evangelism), but the whole field of psychology is largely hokum, so he focuses on how she's right. Their relationship has been a struggle for control, and that struggle is what makes them work.
His hands find her hips, and he pulls her into a hug as he relaxes at this new realization. Some part of him, he now sees, has been convinced that he and Penny make a strange couple. And maybe they do. But college degrees or not, her personality is really a perfect fit; she's been learning about his interests; and he's never felt this good about being this physically close to another person. He sighs against her neck, feeling more comfortable than he has in recent memory. She seems to catch the shift in his mood and relaxes against him
"I enjoy your company quite a lot, Penny," he whispers his confession onto the bare skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she shudders.
He feels subdued, now, and he wants to sit with her and just enjoy the fact that this must be what falling in love feels like. Moving slowly, languidly, he reaches for her top next to them on the couch and pulls it back over her head before removing the elastic from her hair. He keeps his hands in her hair and his eyes on her face as she pulls the shirt over her arms and down, and when she's covered, he hugs her again.
"You told me that you wanted to pick something for us to watch tonight," he tells her, her body still pressed against his. He thinks that maybe he's confusing her, based on the way she's stiff in his arms, so he tries again. "You have been watching something important to me, and I want to do the same. I want..." She cuts him off with a soft kiss, and he takes it to mean that she understands. It's about television, and it's about watching television instead of engaging in sexual activities, but it feels like the right thing to do.
She rises from the couch and bounces over with season 1 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which he immediately dismisses.
"No, Sheldon, it's really good. I bet you'll like it." She looks hopeful and possibly hurt, so he rushes to explain himself.
"Penny, Joss Whedon made Firefly." He nods his head, waiting for her to understand. She doesn't. "I have watched everything he's made. Leonard and I own seasons three through eight of Buffy." She smiles softly, and he pulls her back into his lap, kissing her quickly.
"I don't know what to show you, then," she says to his shoulder as she stretches her legs across the couch, and he smiles down at her.
"What was your favorite movie when you were thirteen?"
"Thirteen?" She tilts her head to the side, looking at him like he might be insane.
"It is a formative year for most people. I have found that I can tell a lot about a person based on his or her favorite movie at thirteen. For example, Leonard's favorite movie was A New Hope, when he could pretend that Luke Skywalker would 'get the girl.'"
"Because Leonard sees himself as Luke Skywalker?" Sheldon raises an eyebrow at her, asking her without words if she really needs to ask that question.
"Wolowitz's favorite movie at thirteen was Pretty Woman." He rolls his eyes and she laughs.
"It is his goal in life to 'save' a prostitute, isn't it?" She giggles and he smiles down at her. "And what was your favorite movie at thirteen, Sheldon?"
"At thirteen, I was choosing a graduate school, meaning that this principle is somewhat skewed when applied to me, as my experiences were so far outside the norm." She nods, her eyes holding something between pity and admiration. "But I was more or less obsessed with anything involving Star Trek. If I had to choose, it would be the fourth movie, The Voyage Home. You're going to have to finish the series before we can watch the movies, though." She smiles at him and kisses him softly.
"My favorite movie was probably Labyrinth."
"The film with David Bowie and the puppets?" At her nod, he tilts his head to the side, considering her. "It suits you," he concludes, and she gives him a weird smile.
"It suits me?"
"Well, it means you had the good taste to enjoy puppetry, which excuses your otherwise dismal knowledge of Yoda in particular and good movies in general."
"Gee, thanks," Penny says, rolling her eyes.
"You're wel...that was sarcasm, wasn't it?" She lets out a little laugh and lays her head on his shoulder.
"What else does it say about me?" The question is whispered in his neck, and he squeezes her gently.
"Many girls at thirteen are obsessed with movies in which the leading character is a damsel in distress. That...would not suit you."
"I've never wanted to be rescued," Penny acknowledges, and Sheldon releases his tight hug in order to trail his hands up and down her back.
"I would hope that what you mean to say is that you never wanted to be the damsel in distress — you would be the princess who participates in her own rescue. Like Leia in Star Wars."
"But I hated Star Wars because Princess Leia had to be the damsel in distress," she confesses, and Sheldon smiles.
"Then you only saw part four." It's part question, part statement, and she cocks her head to the side in confusion before he explains that the first movie was the fourth movie. She rolls her eyes but nods. "You cannot base your assessment of Leia's character solely on A New Hope. As Leia and Han Solo become more involved, she is a much more...interesting character."
"Because she needs a man to make her more interesting?" Penny seems wary, and Sheldon nuzzles the top of her head, his hands still sliding over her back slowly.
"On the contrary. Leia is, statistically, the best shot in all three films, and she is a perfectly interesting character in her own right. Her relationship with Han Solo is..." He pauses, searching for words. "You could argue that it is Leia that does the rescuing, but overall they work together. They have a...somewhat competitive, pseudo-antagonistic relationship."
"You're a fan of their 'somewhat competitive, pseudo-antagonistic relationship,' then?" He can feel his cheeks grow hot under her gaze, and she kisses him again. "See," she raises her eyebrows meaningfully as she pulls her lips away from his, "I told you it's the challenge that makes it hot."
He doesn't have a chance to respond as her mouth connects with his more firmly, her tongue twining with his in a way that makes his whole body throb. It feels like a duel taking place between their mouths, like he's fighting her and surrendering to her in the same moment, and he doesn't want to stop.
She eventually pulls away, her flushed cheeks and swollen lips making her appear even more enticing than usual as she rises from his lap and heads to her dvd collection. He watches her rifle through the disorganized piles and valiantly resists the urge to discuss the imposition of his media organizational paradigm. He's certain this is an inopportune moment for such a conversation, and he feels somewhat proud of the fact that he can tell.
She holds up Labyrinth triumphantly after a moment, and he's mildly amused that her disorganization enables her to feel this sense of accomplishment. It is...cute, he thinks.
"I must admit that this film was also a favorite of Missy's," he tells her, and she nods as though he's stated something obvious, which, given how much she has in common with his twin, is probably the case. "However, I was not living at home through our teenage years, and therefore have only seen it in incomplete pieces."
"I'm afraid you won't see it all the way through this time, either." She smiles at him lasciviously, and he's suddenly unable to forget that they were going to engage in sexual intercourse last night.
"Yes, well, that would not be entirely disagreeable, I suppose," he mumbles nervously, frowning at her giggles as she takes her seat next to him. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and she relaxes against him.
Just after he easily solves the riddle of the lying/truth-telling gates, Penny leans up and kisses him softly. Before he can respond, she slides her mouth from his lips to his chin and down his neck.
"Oh," he gasps as her tongue finds his pulse and presses hard against it before she bites down. She slides into his lap and pulls his shirts over his head, draping them over the back of the couch before letting her kisses fall lower until she hits his right nipple. "Penny," he groans at the firm lick of her tongue against his nipple.
"Shhh," she shushes him mock-seriously and slides off of his lap back into her seat, leaving him confused, aroused, and shirtless.
"Penny..." He starts to ask her what's going on, but she shushes him again and turns back to the television.
Ten minutes later, when her hand slides back onto his bare chest, followed by her lips, he keeps his mouth shut. Slowly, her hand smooths down his bare skin, her fingernails scratch through the light patch of chest hair, and her lips follow the downward trajectory. He sucks in a noisy breath but avoids any vocal sounds when she unbuttons his pants. He struggles for air as her lips slide down his stomach and settle over his covered erection, letting him feel the heat of her breath through the thin white cotton.
She pushes his underwear down his thighs a little ways along with his jeans, and as her mouth closes over the tip of his penis he has to bite his lips to keep from calling out her name.
Penny seems to relax in this position, lounging next to him on the sofa, her head in his lap, working her mouth over him leisurely. The intense feelings of urgency and impending release aren't there like they were the last time she did this. Instead, it's a slow burn of pleasure, licking at the base of his spine, and his prevailing thought is that he wants her to continue this forever, indefinitely. It takes several long minutes for him to feel comfortable enough to move his hands from his sides, to touch her, and even then he restrains himself to tracing the tips of his fingers up and down her back gently.
He's not sure how long they stay like this since his head lolls on the couch and he loses track of the movie, but eventually his fingertips on her back work into her hair, burying themselves in her silky locks. At the touch of his hand on her head, Penny sinks her mouth down further on his shaft, and he once again bites his lips to keep from groaning her name. Without meaning to, he grasps a handful of her hair, encouraging her to make her movements over him deeper and faster.
But he doesn't want to end this sexual encounter like this. He wants tonight to end in the coitus that they did not get to engage in last night. He wants to put his mouth on her, to bring her this kind of pleasure. He wants the satisfaction of bringing her to orgasm.
"Penny," he gasps her name, pulling her head away from him before she can make him ejaculate.
"Shhh," she mock whispers, but her eyes go wide at the urgency she clearly reads in his.
"Bedroom." He manages to form the word despite the fact that there is substantially less blood in his brain than normal, and she nods, her eyes still large and serious.
She rises slowly, purposefully, and turns off the television before standing in front of him as he's still seated on the couch, his pants and underwear halfway to his knees. Moving with slow, enticing grace, Penny strips her shirt over her head, tossing it onto the back of the couch next to him where her bra and his shirts still lie. He takes in a deep breath at the vision of her breasts, still utterly perfect, and keeps his eyes on her as she cups them before sliding her hands down her stomach to finger the waistband of her shorts. She pulls out the small bow in the drawstring and lowers one side of the shorts past her hip, showing him that her panties seem to consist of just a string of pink ribbon. He is far from knowledgeable about women or sexual encounters, but he feels certain that she put on this particular item specifically for him to see.
"Penny," he breathes her name again, greeted by the familiar wave of endorphins as his lips stretch out the first syllable.
She shoots him a soft smile, warm and sensual, before turning her back to him and lowering her shorts past her bottom, letting them fall to the floor. He thinks she might be looking back at him, but he can't manage to move his eyes away from her body to see. Her spine is arched beautifully, presenting her posterior in the most pleasing manner, and her panties are indeed a mere string of ribbon, circling her hips and disappearing between her buttocks.
"You have a tattoo," he mumbles inanely, staring at the blue Chinese character on the right hemisphere of her behind.
"It means 'courage,'" she tells him. "I got it right before I moved here."
"It means 'soup,'" he responds, somehow unable to look away. "You probably shouldn't have trusted a Nebraskan tattoo artist to know Chinese."
"How do you know?" She asks him, and he can't tell if she's angry with him.
"I learned Mandarin specifically to complain about food." She laughs at this, so at least he knows she's not angry.
"I remember you not being very good at it," she sighs, letting out a high pitched sigh as he extends his finger to touch the tattoo.
"I am still quite certain that this means 'soup,'" he speaks the words softly as he touches her, almost surprised to find that both the ink and the skin around the ink are perfectly soft and smooth.
"It means 'courage' to me," she counters.
"I suppose it is courageous to get such a tattoo," he acknowledges, "meaning that it may carry personal significance related to courage, but the fact remains that this character objectively means 'soup.'"
"Are you just going to pick on my tattoo all night?" She sounds frustrated now, and Sheldon smiles.
"I did not intend to pick on your tattoo. I like it," he tells her. "I quite enjoy soup."
"Especially when it has hot dogs in it?" He can hear her smile as she asks the question, and he nods adamantly.
"While I am a fan of most soup, that is, of course, my favorite." She giggles at his words and he is struck with the inexplicable urge to touch his lips to it. "Except for this one."
When his lips brush across the character, her whole body seems to shudder in response.
"Sheldon," she moans above him, and he pulls back, leaving the tattoo alone as he examines the panties she has chosen to show off for him.
He can't resist the urge to reach out a single finger and trace the thin ribbon, but she squeaks out a surprised noise at the feeling of his finger slipping downwards between her buttocks and turns around, flushed and slightly shaking.
The front is more modest, a lacy pink triangle that covers a similarly shaped patch of pubic hair at the top of her vulva, and he lets his finger trace this shape, as well. Once he has touched the perimeter of the fabric, he raises both hands to her hips and slides the skimpy undergarment to the floor.
"Penny," he sighs her name as he looks up at her. "You are...perfect." He strokes the triangle of hair before he allows a finger to slip lower. He has touched her here already, but only under her undergarments, never while he could see the dark color of her pubic hair or appreciate the time she must take to groom herself. His finger slips down between her labia, which she keeps shaved smooth, and he circles her clitoris several times, stopping only when her knees seem to give out and she holds herself up by her hands on his shoulders.
Slowly, he draws his finger away from her body and slides it past his lips, curious about the taste of her if he is to put his mouth here. The taste is very faint, and he finds that he is excited to explore further.
"Sheldon," she groans his name as she watches him taste her. He looks up into her eyes, and she quickly grasps his hand and pulls him from the couch. His pants fall down his legs as he rises, and he takes a moment to awkwardly step out of his shoes and remaining clothing.
He reaches out and cups her face in his hands, kissing her softly before pressing his lips harder against hers and sliding her naked body against his own. The feeling of naked flesh on naked flesh is intoxicating, and he can't help the way his hands fall from her face to grope her, to make sure every part of her touches every part of him.
She pulls away from him in order to grasp his hand and lead him towards her bed. The sheets are crooked and wrinkled, and normally he won't lie on a bed unless it has been properly made so the sheets are crisp and flat, but when Penny pushes him backwards, he doesn't have time to care about its unmade state.
He grasps her waist gently as she crawls on top of him and rolls them so he's situated on top of her, her knees open to let him rest between her thighs. His erection slides against her slit, and he can feel how wet she is when she eagerly bucks her hips against him, how her arousal is like liquid silk, slippery and hot and beckoning him. He clenches his jaw as he scrapes together enough control to pull away from the awaiting heat between her thighs, instead nuzzling her neck as the urgency of the moment passes.
"I wish to perform cunnilingus," he whispers into her neck, and she rolls her eyes even as an obvious sex flush spreads up her chest.
"You want to eat my pussy, Sheldon," she corrects him, her voice breathy.
He raises an eyebrow at her and she laughs, reaching up a finger to trace it.
"Very well, Penny." He takes a breath and pulls back to gaze down at her flushed, nude body before dropping back down so his lips brush her ear. "I want to eat your...pussy," he whispers, stumbling slightly over the last word. He tries again, using language that he deems will be more pleasing to her. "I want to bring you to orgasm with my mouth."
She groans loudly and nods her head, indicating her pleasure at this intention. Sheldon begins to trail his lips down her body, working quickly towards the juncture of her legs.
When he settles between her thighs, he can't help taking a moment to just...look. He knows from fingering her before that she keeps her outer labia shaved smooth, with a neat triangle of hair growing on her mons pubis. It's quite attractive, and he's able to see why this part of the female anatomy is so often compared to a flower. Moving slowly, not quite sure of himself, Sheldon touches her swollen labia majora with his right index finger, running his fingertip along the outer perimeter with the barest caress.
"Sheldon," Penny groans his name loudly. "More." His Adams apple bobs in a dry swallow as he looks up at her. Her face is flushed pink, her lips parted as she sucks in long, uneven breaths.
Still moving slowly, he lightly brushes his fingertip along the labia minora, slick with evidence of her arousal. His finger moves within a fraction of a millimeter of her clitoris, and she grunts her frustration when he moves it away, instead lowering his finger to her vaginal opening. He slides it inside of her, watching her eyes close. Her hips begin to move against his hand in hopes of finding greater stimulation.
Her eyes snap open and lock with his as he slips his finger back out of her and brings it to his mouth, where he can't hold back a smile as he slides it past his lips. She groans loudly at the vision of him tasting her, and he sucks on his finger curiously. The flavor is slightly musky and metallic, but generally inoffensive, even pleasant, given the context of her pleasure. He returns his finger to her vulva, sliding it from the patch of hair through her labia and inside of her again.
"Please, more," she whispers, her hips gyrating against his hand, and any thoughts he had of going slowly and exploring are out the window. His middle finger joins his index finger inside of her, and he twists his wrist experimentally. This angle is less ideal than the positions in which he has previously engaged in this activity, and he flounders for a moment. However, her groans at his movements are both helpful and arousing, and he quickly finds a rhythm and angle that allow him to stimulate her g-spot.
Once he is pleased with the rhythm of his fingers, he lowers his lips to her clitoris, kissing it gently. With his mouth directly against her, the taste and smell are both stronger — her skin is glistening with her arousal — and he finds it much more pleasant than he imagined he would. He lets his tongue move in one long lick, starting from just above his thrusting fingers to the top of her clitoris, and she shudders at the sensation. Being surrounded by her this way, the scented lotion on her thighs — green tea and mint — combined with the uniquely spicy scent of her, makes his head spin. He pulls his mouth away from her sex to nuzzle her inner thigh for a moment, dropping a kiss right at the juncture of her leg and pelvis before bringing his mouth back to where she wants it.
He begins to experiment with some of the reports he has read on how to best stimulate a clitoris orally, poking his tongue out of his mouth in a firm point and beginning to lick the little nub in much the same rhythm he uses with his fingers.
"Faster," she grunts as her legs wrap around his shoulders and her hands shoot forward to grasp his hair.
He obliges, moving his tongue faster, and begins to vary his motion from up and down to the shape of the digits of Euler's number, making her grind her hips up towards him. As his tongue begins to tire, he tries a different method: moving his lips over the nub while applying gentle suction, his tongue flickering behind his lips.
"Shit, Sheldon," she calls his name loudly, and his first instinct is to pull away, afraid that he's hurt her. But her hands grasp his hair harder, pushing his face into her. "Shit, Sheldon," she pants again, and it becomes her repeated mantra as she bucks against his hand and mouth before her hips rise up off the bed as her whole body quakes. He keeps his tongue working until she pushes his head away, and he sits back on the bed as she comes down.
His face is sticky with her arousal, and he wipes at it self consciously with his clean hand before climbing over her body and kissing her.
"Penny," he whispers into her ear, anxious for what he's hoping comes next.
"Yes," she moans. She's still spent, but her hand grasps his shaft and guides it between her legs, rubbing it through the collected moisture and up against her clitoris several times before positioning him at her entrance, her knees raised on either side of his hips.
They groan together as he pushes inside of her, and he shudders at the combination of being surrounded by her and hearing her low moans of contentment at total penetration.
"Penny," he whispers her name in awe as he feels the tight walls of her vagina grip him.
He stays buried completely inside of her for a minute, during which time ceases to flow, before experimentally making small circles with his pelvis, exploring her reactions. When he starts thrusting, she moans with every stroke, so he sets a slow, easy rhythm. Some part of his brain urges him to go faster, harder, to seek his own release, but he's read enough to know that he needs to start slow, he needs to build this up for both of them, if he wants to last.
"Faster," she grunts after a few minutes of slow thrusting, and he obliges, captivated at the play of emotions across her face, even though her eyes are closed.
"Penny, please open your eyes," he whispers, and her eyes pop open to look up at him in the dim room. Without slowing his thrusts, Sheldon grasps her right knee and pushes it towards her chest, making his penetration deeper and more focused on where he knows she needs it.
"Shit, Sheldon," comes the familiar mantra again, and he smirks because he never imagined that his name paired with any curse word, let alone a curse word for fecal matter, would be the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. This time, it's interspersed with pleas that he not stop, so he doesn't. He pushes thoughts of his own orgasm as far from his mind as possible, focusing his entire being instead on the way Penny's head is thrown back against her pillows and her moans have turned breathier. Sheldon shifts his position again, angling his pelvis so that his pubic bone grinds against Penny's clitoris on each thrust, and that does it. Her final, "Shit, Sheldon," comes out as almost a scream, and he slows his thrusts, letting her relax beneath him and holding off his own release.
He kisses her again, and she responds, bringing her hands up to his face and cupping his cheeks softly.
"Sheldon," she whispers against his lips, "that was..." He kisses her before she can finish and thrusts into her, hard, wringing a gasp from her lips. He wants desperately to try this another way that he has read about.
"I would like to attempt a rear entry position," he mutters into her mouth, and she lets out a tired squeak.
"You want to do it doggie style, sweetie, or take me from behind." He nods his head, accepting her greater rhetorical expertise with bedroom talk.
"Please turn over, Penny," he sighs into her mouth, and she nods against him before he pulls away, giving her space to do as he has asked. Already tired from two orgasms, she collapses down, leaving her rear in the air while her face is on the mattress. Sheldon encourages her to raise her torso slightly, arching her back so that the curve at the base of her spine contrasts the roundness of her bottom. It is particularly appealing.
"This should be better for you," he tells her as he thrusts back inside of her waiting warmth, his fingers digging into her hip bones as he pulls her back against him. His movements are harder, faster in this position, but he keeps talking in between panting breaths and groans. "Instead of...just hitting your...cervix...the arch...in your back...allows me to...most directly rub against...your g-spot."
As if to prove his point, Penny begins her mantra again, but, "Shit, Sheldon," is replaced by, "Oh, God, Sheldon," and he smiles as his thrusts speed up more. This time, he's focused almost entirely on his own release, his own pleasure, which is greatly enhanced by the vision of Penny's body splayed before him. Her upturned bottom is especially appealing, and without slowing his thrusts, he brings his right hand to touch the Chinese character, roughly moving his fingers against her flesh before his attention falls to the tiny puckered hole that's practically pointed up towards him. He is aware that the nerves around the sphincter are frequently linked to female pleasure, although he is also aware that operant cultural taboos often limit such pleasure. There seems to be only one way to find out how Penny feels about the issue.
He slows his thrusting for just a moment as he slides his index finger to touch her there before picking up his speed again. He assumes it is a side effect of her hairlessness, but he is somewhat shocked to feel how much of her arousal has dripped from her vagina to lubricate this hole, allowing him to easily slide the tip of his finger inside. It is unexpectedly arousing to touch her this way.
She tenses around him, and he thinks she's about to tell him to stop, but she suddenly increases the volume of her moans and he once again feels her whole body tighten around him as she reaches her peak again. This time, the combination of sensations pushes him over the edge, too, and he collapses on top of her as waves of orgasmic bliss wash over him.
He thinks he might have passed out because when he next opens his eyes, he's on his back and Penny is curled against him, kissing his neck softly.
"Hello," he whispers, drawing her attention to his face. She smiles widely before letting out a yawn. "I assume that was satisfactory for you?"
"Yeah," she answers, yawning again. "Very, very satisfactory." She lays her head on his shoulder before quietly asking, "Do you want to stay here tonight? I have a spare toothbrush...still in the package."
He is startled by the question, not having truly considered the idea of sleeping in her bed. He finds, however, that he does not want to leave her.
"I...yes," he answers.
[Next time: More practice. It's quite short and will be up very soon.]