Chapter 11: Teenage Dreams
Maura's POV
You think I'm pretty without any makeup on
You think I'm funny when I tell the punch line wrong
I know you get me, so I let my walls come down,
down
You don't make it to the bed immediately, clinging to each other like two souls drowning in the depth of the ocean, as you push her lightly against the wall, and with her hand tangled in your hair, she leans in for another searing, passionate kiss that does not only evoke the image of something primal, untamed – wild horses galloping through the prairie, animals in heat shamelessly fulfilling their needs – but also serves as a turn-on apparently so great that your core releases a gush of wetness that thoroughly soaks your panties, your clit throbbing, screaming for attention. The scientist in you is astounded by the intensity of your arousal although both of you have not even shed one single piece of clothing just yet. When Jane once again captures your lips with her own, you moan into the kiss, greedily grabbing a fistful of her starched red shirt to have something to hold onto, and because it is not enough, not barely enough, you move so that one of her jeans-clad legs slips between your shorter, skirt-covered ones, and when her knee does a surprised upward jerk at your bold change of position, you pant your approval as rough fabric bumps into your core, your mouth wandering to one of her earlobes - one of the most erogenous zones of the human body - and gently start nibbling at soft flushed flesh, experimentally at first and then, more confident when you can feel her grip on your hips tighten, you start to alternate between sucking and licking the area, spurred on by the little gasps and whimpers that escape her while one of your hands automatically starts its journey down her body. Letting go of gorgeous dark tresses, you lightly trace the outlines of her face – the exquisitely high cheekbones, the soft corners of her mouth, the pointed tip of her chin, your hand continuing its downward trajectory, until it reaches the area right above her chest. You hesitate for a moment, blood pounding in your veins, your whole being reduced to pure, unadulterated desire, but then you can feel her hands on your gluteus maximus – the gluteal muscle that forms a person's buttocks - and she is cupping your ass, squeezing its roundness, almost pushing you into her, and the encouragement is enough for you to lower your hand so that it comes to rest on her breast. A strangled sound escapes her, almost a mewl, and you kiss down the side of her sweaty neck, inch by inch, while cupping her left breast in your palm, grateful that she is bra-less under her shirt so that you can use your fingers to firmly stroke her nipple into a hardening nub through that one layer of fabric separating you from rich, flawless skin.
Before you met me
I was alright, but things were kinda heavy
You brought me to life, now every February
You'll be my Valentine, Valentine
"Oh my God, Maura", she whispers and her voice is even raspier than you have ever heard it before, which makes wetness spill out of you once again. In the dim light of early evening that weakly illuminates your bedroom from the outside, you move your other hand that is not occupied with the small, firm roundness of her left breast,over the material of her shirt, fingertips tracing downwards, and with a timid look upwards into obsidian orbs of want and lust, you sneak your hand under her shirt. The warmth of her skin is even more inviting than what you expected all along and it makes you gasp and bury your head in the soft fabric as another wave of arousal washes over you with an intensity that gives you the peculiar impression of your fingertips being scorched as you tenderly move them across the taut skin of her abdomen, circling playfully around her navel, and with mildly increased pressure, you allow yourself to wander upwards, over her rib cage, and softly trace the underline of her right breast, its firmness almost beckoning to you.
"Mauraaa...", she whines and you want to growl in protest as her hands abandon the steadying grip they had found on your hips, but then you realize that she is tugging at her shirt impatiently and you eagerly assist in ridding her of the garment, your eyes flickering over her perfect, nude, defined upper body, and one of her hands grabs a fistful of hair in an attempt to perhaps anchor herself, but a surprised "Oh" leaves her as you lean forward and place a hungry, sloppy kiss onto her intermammary cleft, the place right between her breasts, but you don't leave it at that, instead, you turn your attention towards one of her small boobs and generously pepper it with wet, open-mouthed kisses, your tongue teasingly flickering over her pigmented areola before you suck her already hardened nipple into your mouth, licking it, nibbling at it, while your hand is busy playing with the nipple on her other boob, pinching it ever so lightly, massaging it with your flattened palm, kneading it between talented fingers. Your ministrations are interrupted abruptly as your hands are lifted over your head in a swift motion and she reverses your positions, pushing you against the wall, again moaning your name as she impatiently unbuttons your silk blouse, her hands cupping your generous breasts, so sensitive now even with your bra still on that you instantly squirm on the spot, in vain searching for the friction of her leg between yours. She is focused on your ample chest, though, lowering her mouth to your sternum with a sob that borders on reverence and has you shudder in sweet, torturous anticipation. You can feel her reach behind you, fumbling to open the clasp of your bra, and you know she's struggling, you can feel her long, elegant fingers shaking with nerves against your back, and your hand finds hers and helps her to unhook the bra, offering her free access to two of your best assets, a pair of round and full and perky breasts with rosy pink nipples greeting her proud and erect.
Your hands finding purchase on the nape of her neck, you try to draw her impossibly closer as she caresses the soft flesh of your breasts with both her fingers and her mouth, fervently licking and sucking and nibbling at sensitive pink nubs until they are hard as pebbles, releasing them from between her lips with a satisfyingly wet pop. One moment later, you breathlessly bury your head against her clavicle while her hand snakes up your leg, under your skirt, not stopping at the thin barrier of your sticky satin slip but instead touching you right over your underwear, making you gasp involuntarily as another burst of liquid spills out of you and further ruins finest material.
"Oooh Jane", you moan, tossing your head back. She is taking advantage of the exposed column of your elegant throat instantly, latching onto it with her hot mouth, eliciting further moans and gasps from you while one of her hands explores your torso, running over the smooth softness of your belly before returning to a hardened nipple as the other one is still stroking you over your underwear, focusing on your mens pubis, and you groan in both arousal and frustration at not having her where you want her most.
Somehow, you stumble over to the bed, landing on the duvet as an entangled mass of limbs and heated skin, and you support yourself on your elbows so that you are on top of her, gazing down into dark chocolate orbs that look up at you in mesmerized awe. Her fully dilated pupils reveal how much she wants you; you find yourself thinking that the same signs of arousal must be etched onto your face. You cup her chin affectionately and she tilts her head in order to blow a sweet kiss onto your palm.
She mumbles something into your hand you don't quite catch; you frown at her quizzically and her hands roam over the small of your back, drawing invisible patterns onto your skin: "I asked, is this real or am I just imagining things?"
You smile, too caught up in the momentum building between you to give a wordy reply on flawed human perception and philosophical theories about what constitutes reality. "It is real", you simply confirm with a dreamy smile and lean in for a short, yet intense kiss, your tongues meeting, mouths melting together, and she lifts herself up a little, her hands wrapped around your lower back, and there's a hint of impatience in her voice as she whispers: "Maura... take it off, please" and asking what she is referring to becomes unnecessary as her fingers trail down your skin, landing on your black high-waist Alexander McQueen skirt, deftly tugging at its waistband.
Your breath hitches in your throat as you obey her raspy plea, and her hands are all over your legs immediately, caressing the insides of your lower and then upper thighs, calloused palms dragging across your knees, fingertips mapping your calves, your ankles, and, the touch you certainly enjoy most, running up your inner thighs until their course is halted by the flimsy material of your soaked slip, drawing back slightly again, almost teasing you as they wander around mere inches from where you want her most-
She is still wearing too much clothing herself, though, and with renewed determination, you blindly reach between your two closely pressed-together bodies, finding the belt of her jeans. You fumble a little with it but manage to take it off quite elegantly; you let it slip over the edge of the bed carelessly and search for her zipper and the button of the offending piece of garment and finally tear it down her legs breathing shakily, your hands immediately rewarded by the delicious expanse of smooth, soft skin.
You push her down onto the mattress her hair is so wild and messy and you absolutely love it like this, and hastily straddle her thigh and selfishly grind against it, seeking for the friction your body is begging you for.
Let's go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love
We can dance, until we die
You and I, will be young forever
Basically humping her leg, your breasts bouncing and strands of hair falling into your face disorderly, you don't even have enough willpower left to slow down somewhat, so incredibly aroused are you by her almost completely naked, lean form beneath your own body, her eyes wide and her teeth sexily worrying her lower lip as she watches you ride her thigh from below. It encourages you to fasten your own pace further and to use the soles of your heels for leverage as you lift and lower yourself, repeatedly. Only when you huskily moan her name does she snap out of her trance-like state: One hand snugly settles on your hip as she uses the other one to tear down your silky slip and you are not entirely sure whether the ripping of expensive fabric is real or a figment of your imagination – and truth be told, you couldn't care less as she roughly pulls it down your legs, leaving a sticky trail of wetness before her hand wanders back upwards and for a moment simply comes to rest on your bare upper thigh as you wetly grind your now naked core against the smoothness of warm, very alive skin, but then, her hand sneaks closer to your groin, your clit twitches in feeble anticipation, and when you repeat your motion of lifting-lowering-grinding-once more, before you can lower yourself onto her leg, she gets her hand in between her thigh and your sodden, aching sex, and all of a sudden, she touches you directly, no barriers, no, there is nothing between you now, and the noise that escapes you at that delicious realization sounds more animalic than human.
You strain to open your eyes that have fluttered shut at the intensity of both your physical as well as your emotional reaction; but you are rewarded with her angelic, pristine face, and a hoarse "Wow" that slips out of her throat as long, nimble fingers start to explore terra incognita.
You nearly come undone right that second, your hands find purchase on strong shoulderblades and manicured nails dug into bare skin harshly as she uses her index finger to run down the length of your swollen, pulsing sex maddeningly slow before her fingertip retreats for a moment only to come back to rest at your opening ever so suggestively.
You bite down on your bottom lip unconsciously, dragging your soaking wet pussy across her finger, coating it in wetness; you are not entirely sure what her next move will really be but your hips lift automatically, making her an offering of sorts, and when you push yourself up only to lower your body again to grind and rub and rock against her thigh, she is expecting you already; or rather, her hand is, her index finger easily sliding into warm wetness from below, and you sink onto the digit fully, gasping for air as white-hot pleasure threatens to overwhelm your senses and drown out everything else-
"Hey, Maur, look at me?" Her voice sounds as gentle as you've ever heard it, but there also is a firmness in her tone, and you blink your eyes open to find her intense yet grounding gaze resting on your flushed face. She applies a little more pressure to your hip, squeezing it reassuringly. "Just... don't forget to breathe, a'right?", she adds with a nervous chuckle that actually has you emit a throaty grunt of agreement before you take a few steadying breaths, her finger still nestled in sticky tight heat.
She is inside of you. The realization makes you laugh out brightly and she joins you, laughingly asking: "What?", but there is no accusation whatsoever in her voice, no trace amount of judgement or annoyance.
"You just feel... incredible", you manage to confess as your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of the digit wiggling a little inside you, "so incredible... inside of me...", a shudder coursing through your body at your own words.
"You feel so good around me like this", she breathes back in raw astonishment and even the exploratory movement of her finger inside you curling ever so slightly almost suffices to drive you over the edge. "Just... tell me what to do, Maur?" Her voice is smaller now, an anxious fray to it that someone less attuned to her would probably not notice, but you do. You fight to keep a somewhat clear head, just enough to be able to reassure her, which is proving increasingly hard for you with your clit throbbing and your sex clenching greedily around her index finger and the heady smell of arousal surrounding you, but you focus on Jane, your Jane, who you would give your life for in a heartbeat, and you manage to get out some coherent enough words: "Just... do whatever feels good, honey, it doesn't really... ooohhh... matter", and then you lift yourself up from her thigh, from her finger buried inside of you, and start to impale yourself on the digit, slowly the first few times, but then faster, more frantic, the slick sounds of your own sex so deliciously, exqusitely exciting...
Jane does her best to help from her somewhat difficult position; her finger eagerly gliding through wet folds, shooting upwards inside of you to meet your erratic thrusts, she is trying to push her own hips upwards to accomodate your rhythm, to add some of the pressure you so desperately crave, and you continue to ride her hard, adding a roll of your hips that has you moan out a string of "Ooohs" and "Aaaahs" as you work up a sweat, your whole body trembling with exertion, straining to get as much pleasure out of this as possible-
"Oh, Jane, I need-", you finally moan, lowering yourself onto her once more, but this time, not only one, but two fingers await you, and you hiss at the more than welcome stretch at your opening when she fills you even more, and yet, it is not enough, not nearly enough...
She shifts just a little, and your rhythm stutters for a second as you don't know what to expect next, but then a mumbled "Sorry" distracts you from being rolled over so that now she is lying half on top and half next to you, two fingers still buried deeply inside of you, and when she pushes them into you even further, almost hitting that sweet spot on your ridged front wall, you bite back a grunt, "So good, Jane... so good" but then, another sensation is added to the mix, a calloused, large palm bumping against your swollen clit oh so magificently with every one of her surprisingly forceful, steady thrusts, long fingers curling and uncurling inside of you again and again...
"Oh my God", you gasp, "God yes... don't stop", nails digging into her strong shoulderblade once more as you sneak your other hand down between the two of you, brushing her panties in the process that are so wet it makes you moan at the realization of what all of this does to her, too.
You want to touch her so badly it hurts, but your own desire is driving you mad at this point; you cannot wait even a second longer. A little reluctant to break the spell of her hard, focused rhythm, you tug on the hand buried deeply between your legs and sigh in both relief and frustration when she withdraws her fingers immediately. Although your body protests at the loss of exquisite fullness, you place your hand over hers that is thoroughly coated in your juices and direct it to where you need it most, right at your pulsing, erect clit.
You make me
Feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream
The way you turn me on, I can't sleep
Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back
"Just... touch me right there", you breathe into her ear, and she does, focusing on the wildly twitching bundle of nerves with surprising dexterity, rubbing first gently and then, as you utter throaty encouragement, harder, faster, slipping one or two times for the sheer excess of wetness but always going right back to her task of pleasing you, and when the twitching becomes even more intense and your breathing even more ragged and laboured, a soft kiss is placed on first your chin, then on the corner of your mouth, and finally, she captures your lower lip with her tongue and sucks gently while her fingers stroke over your most sensitive area once, twice, three times with just the right amount of pressure and firmness and - ...You finally tumble over the precipice, latching your full lips onto her mouth fully as flames seem to lick up your lower abdomen, the kiss she instantly allows muffling your strangled cry of release as your inner walls repeatedly contract around nothing and white-hot waves of pleasure crash over you as you buck against her hand with abandon. The force of your orgasm finally compels you to break the kiss for some much-needed air as waves of aftershock are drawn out of you with the help of Jane's slender fingers.
Recovering from the intensity of your climax, you whisper "Jane... please" and she pulls her hand away from the overstimulated nub in silent understanding, resting it not on your taut belly or full breasts,but sweetly placing it on your heart instead.
She inches closer to kiss you once more and you happily part your lips to grant her entrance. You tongues dance lazily, both of you smiling into the contact, your body limp from the past activities, letting her lead, and when you finally part, she croaks: "So was I any good?" She tries to ask it lightly, teasing even, but there's an edge to her voice, it is laced with insecurity and doubt and God, how much you just want to kiss the worry off her beautiful face, because there is nothing you would have changed, not the somewhat difficult angle, not the times your rhythms didn't quite match, not how you had to finally guide her hand to where you needed it most. There is always a little bumpiness in first times but despite the fact that her technique wasn't perfect, that you weren't always completely in snyc, you have never felt so at ease with anyone ever before; never before have you felt so safe with someone, so gloriously accepted, so wonderfully loved. Your physical release was powerful enough, but the emotional satisfaction was what made it truly outsanding.
You nuzzle her nose affectionately before humming into her ear: "My heart stops when you look at me...Just one touch... Now, baby, I believe-"
Strong arms wrap around you as she finishes the song line: "Now, baby, I believe... this is real...So take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back..."
She peppers your face with innocent little kisses, takes her time to rake nimble fingers through honey-blonde hair although it is sweaty and tangled. After a while, she chuckles softly above you. "I can't believe you just quoted Katy Perry's Teenage Dream after sex."
"It's a catchy tune", you mumble, "but if you preferred me humming Bethooven's Moonlight Sonata instead, it could probably be arranged."
"To be honest, I more, like, expected you to give me a lecture about the health benefits of orgasm", she quips.
"No lecture", you mutter, relishing the feeling of her warm, slender body half on top of yours, and, with a seductive purr in your voice, you add, scratching her back lightly, "I was actually hoping that I could reciprocate and give your body a more... direct demonstration on the manifold positive effects of female orgasm."
She clears her throat and her voice is a deep drowl when she replies: "Holy shit, Maur, that sounds-"
"Endlessly fascinating and deeply satisfying?" you playfully suggest. She gently nips at your shoulder. "I wanted to say fucking amazing", she mumbles against creamy white skin, "but whatever..."
"We'll see what the left hemisphere of your brain will allow you to articulate while I'm kneeling between your legs", you tease, running your fingers through her dark curly mane, some wayward locks matted to her face and shoulders . Her only response is a guttural growl, indicating that you have already rendered her speechless. You giggle, your body still high on the feel-good hormones that were just released when you climaxed, hard, against Jane's hand.
She pulls the duvet over your sweaty bodies and you shift to press yourself even closer to her, your rosy nipples grazing her smaller breasts, the skin-on-skin contact so addictive you shudder in renewed arousal. You want to keep your promise and bring her to unknown heights of pleasure with your tongue and lips, but you cannot stifle a yawn.
She chuckles lightly.
"S'okay", you slurr, but the exhaustion in your sleepy voice is more than evident.
You just know that Jane is smirking mischievously as she places a tender kiss on your forehead. Your eyes blink shut when she pulls you closer protectively. "I'm not... too tired to...perform oral sex... on you", you protest weakly against her chest, but she murmurs soothing words of affection into the shell of your ear, and soon enough, you give up the fight, her thigh resting between your legs, your head on her chest, her regular heartbeat lulling you to sleep.
