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BirdsandStars
—Can I undress you? —he asks me again, whe he sees that he doesn't get an answer.
I swallow the knot that has just formed in my throat. I cannot speak. I can only nod as I watch him place his hands on my shoulders and gently slide them down my arms in a gentle caress. And then along the outline of my body until he reaches my jeans. At no time does he look away from me. And I can't do it either, I'm hypnotized by his piercing blue gaze.
—If you want me to stop at some point, just tell me and I'll do it. Got it!
I nod. I've lost all ability to think coherently while his hands are on my waist and they start to loosen the jeans. Put the zipper down extremely slowly and without even touching me. Then his hands pull the jeans down a little.
—Walk backwards. —he asks me while I obey.
I walk until I feel the bed behind my legs.
—Sit down.
I've lost my speech, but at least I can do everything he says. As soon as I'm sitting down I see him bend down in front of me and quickly get rid of the shoes.
—Tomorrow I'll give you a foot massage. —he says to me as he quickly finishes lowering my jeans and pulls them out through my legs. —Come on. —he says, taking me by the hands and standing me up one more time. —Let's finish the clothes, I'm dying to slide my hands all over your body. —he says as he starts to pull up the shirt I'm wearing.
At no time do his fingers touch my skin. He throws the shirt together with the jeans and stands there looking at me with an eyebrow.
—Did you wear this outfit for me? —he asks me, while I do nothing but nod. —Ana, I'm going to need you to talk to me, just so I can know how you feel.
—All right.—I manage to finally answer him by finding my voice. — Yeah, I put it on for you. —I say it nervously to him while he smiles at me.
—It's a pity that today I can't appreciate it as he deserves. —Christian turns around and looks at me from all sides.
This only makes me more nervous than I already am.
—Why you're nervous? —he asks me suddenly. —Haven't you ever been undressed before?
I must tell him the truth.
—No, never. No one has ever taken the time to do so. —I answer him with heavy breathing.
And it was the truth. In the end I always ended up getting naked by myself, or I did everything. Because they were only interested in getting the important part out. The bottom part. Or they'd start getting rid of their clothes quickly to get straight to the action. And no one would stop to look at the underwear I was wearing. Not like Christian just did, who, apparently, did appreciate underwear.
—Let's do something. I don't want you to be so nervous. —he says to me, taking my hands in his. —If you need to use the bathroom, do it. Finish undressing, lie down on the bed and cover yourself with the towel over your buttocks, I'll go heat up some massage oil. —he separates from me, takes the little bag and disappears from the room.
As soon as I lose sight of him I almost run into the bathroom and look in the mirror. I know I stopped blushing a long time ago. But as Christian slowly looked at me and undressed me, I couldn't help but feel the heat flooding my cheeks and my breathing quickening. And there it is. The slight blush on my cheeks. I haven't felt like this since the first time I fell in love in high school. Oh, my God! What's happening to me?
I go back to the room and quickly take off the rest of my clothes. I lie down in the middle of the bed and cover myself with the towel. Christian return at that very moment. I turn my face towards him so that I don't miss any of his movements. I watch him quickly take off his boots and shirt. And then he sits on the bed next to me putting the oil bottle next to him just like his phone.
—I'm going to put on some music so you can relax. —he says to me as he presses on his phone and a sweet, soft melody begins to flood the room.
—Who's singing? —I ask, letting the soft music flood my senses.
It's really relaxing. And I find the song strangely familiar.
—Enya. Just feel the music, Ana. My hands will take care of relaxing you. —he says to me, giving me a smile.
As soon as the lyrics begin, I know why it looked familiar. It's from one of my favorite movies. Sweet November. I turn my face when I see him take the oil bottle. As soon as he opens it, the smell floods my nostrils.
—Hum. Delicious. —I say to him as the smell of coconut floods the room.
—That's what I thought in the shower when we were wet. —he suddenly says to me. —That you smelled delicious, like a sweet delicacy.
That's the first time anyone's ever said that to me. I've been using everything with the smell of coconut for two years. And I know that, even if you don't feel it, when my hair or my skin gets wet, the smell is reactivated and you feel it again intensely. But I thought that only I could notice it.
At that moment I feel his hands on my shoulders. This time they slide more easily over my body. And I close my eyes enjoying the music and his hands on my body. His hands slowly slide down my body. They reach once more for the towel and come up again. But incredibly this time I didn't get tense. He repeats the operation several times, until I feel his hands freezing on the edge of the towel.
—Can I continue? —he asks me and I don't even think about it.
—Yes. — I answer him with heavy breathing because I know what he's about to do.
At that very moment the music changes to a theme I don't recognize.
—It's Sarah Connor, the song is called Skin on skin. —he says, reading my thoughts. —I promise not to overdo it, I just want your first massage to be unforgettable for you. —he says as I feel the towel disappear from my body.
His hands start from the center of my back and go down slowly, very slowly until he starts massaging my buttocks. I close my eyes tightly as I bite my lower lip and contain a groan. He separates his hands from my body, I imagine that for more oil and again I feel them on the top of my buttocks. He massages gently, while I inevitably tense up a bit. As it continues, my body begins to get used to the contact of his hands on that part of my body. And also every second that he continues to massage that area, the muscles in my lower abdomen contract delightfully, more and more. Every time his hands squeeze lightly, I contain a groaning sound by biting my lips. At least he can't see me. I don't know how many more I can take. I'm so excited. Actually, I'm more excited than I've ever been in my life.
—I've been waiting a long time for the moment when I could touch your body. —he says to me as he gently massages.
His words make me even more excited. Christian moves on the bed and then I have him sitting on my legs. At no time does he stop massaging. His fingers make circles as his thumbs slide along the bottom edge of my buttocks.
—Ana! —my name comes out of his lips in a hoarse moan.
I feel the moisture between my legs. I squeeze my thighs more, if possible.
—Ana! —groans my name once more behind my back.
My name sounds like a plea on his lips. His fingers slide along the inside edge of my thighs, touching the moisture between my legs.
—You're so wet! —he says to me as I find it impossible to contain the moaning that escapes my lips.
—Hummm.
Wet! No! I'm on the verge of an orgasm, and he's just massaging my buttocks. What will happen when he kisses me or put a finger inside me?
—When was the last time you had sex? —he suddenly asks me, stopping the massage.
I get completely tense with his question and return to reality. I open my eyes as I get nervous. I didn't expect this question. Why does he always have to do the opposite of what I expect him to do?
—I will continue when you answer me. —he says tempting me.
—Long time ago. —I answer vaguely.
I keep track, but I won't tell him the exact time.
—How long is a long time? —he asked again, sliding a finger along the inside edge of my thighs.
—Two years! —I let go in a scream without even noticing it.
—You haven't had sex ffor two years? —I can sense that he is stunned by the tone of his question.
Yes, I know. I don't believe it myself.
—Yes.
—Why? —he asks now separating his fingers from my thighs.
—Because I got tired of so many idiots in my life who never knew what to do to make me reach orgasm. —I quickly answer his questions without even stopping to think about what I'm saying.
I can't think of anything else but his hands continuing to massage.
—Let me change the question. —he says to me as I feel him slip his fingers again through the wetness between my legs and I groan again. —When was the last time you had an orgasm?
His fingers stop right between my folds. I must say, it's very difficult to concentrate at this time. But I know he won't continue until I respond.
—It doesn't count if you provoked it yourself. —he tells me by reading my mind.
How do he know that's what I'm thinking?
—When was the last time a man left you full and satisfied?
God!
If he could just move his fingers from where they are, I think I could focus on something other than the devastating heat of his fingers against my sex.
I'm trying to think and focus on when I was sexually satisfied. My brain is either asleep or temporarily shut down because it takes me a few seconds to process his question. And I think about it. But I quickly know the answer to what he's asking me. I've always known it.
—I don't remember. I don't remember ever having been. —I answer in a state of total drunkenness.
At that very moment, he slides a finger down my entrance and I almost convulse. I think that if he does it again I will not be able to contain the orgasm that has been growing inside me since he placed his hands on me.
Two years without sex, that's a long time. But it's been much longer since a man has touched me like this, so intimately. The last asshole was only interested in my breast and sticking it in. And no one, I repeat, no one, has ever cared about my needs. As soon as they came, that was the end of it.
I know it takes me longer than most women to reach orgasm, but that's because I need more preparation. I need more than a few breast squeezes and a few kisses, plus the obvious penetration, to reach total ecstasy. Although I've come to think that's a myth. If at this point in my life I've never had what they say is a "devastating orgasm" of those who literally see the stars. I don't think I'll ever know it.
I feel his fingers slowly drifting away from my sex and loosening the grip on my buttocks. No, no, no, no, no! What did I do wrong?