I did my best to stay out of Jessica’s way all day. Breakfast convinced me of that. I couldn’t keep my thoughts off the body hidden beneath her jeans and sweater. I caught myself looking at her so often, and so hungrily that I was convinced my daughter Mary had noticed something was odd. I avoided speaking, as well. My mind was so full of Jessica’s succulent 19-year-old body and the incredible sex we’d been having, that I was sure I’d sneak a totally inappropriate word into an otherwise innocent conversation.
The hours dragged by. I let myself snooze in front of my computer, doze on the couch with a game playing, and shuffle into another room whenever I heard the two friends coming. Mary, three months older than Jessica, shared many of the same tastes of her best friend, so they had plenty to occupy their time. But occasionally I experienced a thrill of fear.
“You’re both so sleepy and quiet,” Mary commented at the end of lunch. I had just yawned, apparently at the same time as Jessica.
“Huh?” My pulse leapt, and I fought to look casual as I played innocent. I refused to allow myself to look at Jessica.
“I haven’t slept poorly,” Jessica said with a shrug. “But then again I’m in an unusual house, an unusual bed, so it doesn’t surprise me I’m not getting as much rest as usual.”
“You’re not even in a bed,” Mary agreed. Jessica usually slept on the bean-bag chair in Mary’s room when she came over. “I guess I can see that.”
“I’m just not used to so much inactivity, I guess,” I added. “I’m usually at work all day, it must keep me stimulated.”
“That happens to my mom,” Jessica said. “She works hard and then when she gets time off it’s like she stored up all her need to sleep.”
“Humph,” Mary grunted, getting up. “C’mon Jess – I pre-loaded episode 102.”
Not entirely sure what they were talking about, I stood as well and watched Jessica’s legs walk out of the kitchen before cleaning up. — “Mary’s going to be even more suspicious tomorrow,” Jessica giggled as she closed my door gently, at midnight.
“Why is that?” I asked, my heart rate already up again. Jessica turned, this time dressed in nothing but an oversized flannel shirt. I was still in my pajama pants, but had taken off my shirt before she showed up.
Jessica bit her bottom lip as she crossed to me, her eyes alight. She reached out, a pace away, and touched my chest with her fingertips, then slowly and smoothly stole her graceful fingers around to my back and stood on her bare toes to embrace me. I hugged her back, squeezing her luscious body against me to feel her breasts better.
“Why is Mary going to be more suspicious tomorrow?” I pressed.
“Mmmmmm,” Jessica hummed, squeezing me back before looking up into my face. “I expect to get less sleep tonight.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned. Her tone and eagerness had my loins stirring. Of course, it could have nothing to do with her plastering her lithe curves against me.
“Yes!” she whispered with an answering grin. She let me go and took one step back. “Okay, here’s what I want tonight.”
I stood patiently (or at least imitating patience).
“Yesterday and the day before I was so nervous, and needed to explore so badly,” she explained, her words coming out in a quiet rush as she continued to try to keep her voice down. “Well, today I want a sort of reverse exploration.”
I frowned quizzically.
“What I mean by that,” and her words were almost slurred with her rapid breathlessness. “Is that I wanted to learn about your body, about sex, and wanted to direct everything. But I know I’m still very inexperienced. I’ve got some obvious ideas about what to do, but it is very limited. I’ve had fun learning about your penis, and sex has completely exceeded my expectations, but I want to know what you can do to me – what kinds of touches, or acts, or whatever you can do like when I make you feel good with my fingers or my mouth.”
This was all said in an incredible rush, her fingers twisting in and out of each other, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
I laughed happily. “Oh my, okay. I think I can do that.”
“Really?” she almost squeaked, looking somewhat fearful.
“Of course!” I stepped closer again and hugged her, and leaned down to kiss her gently. “There are lots of things I can do, we can do together.”
“Okay,” she said quickly. “Okay, I’ll just… I’ll…”
I kissed her again, insistently, squeezing her gently until she hugged me back and relaxed. I ran my hands up her back, over the collar of her shirt, and combed my fingers upward into her hair. Continuing my soft, insistent kiss, I massaged the back of her head, her shoulders, and played with her hair. I never let the kiss get old or stale, but continued to stimulate the touch of our lips until her hot breath came out in quick, deep breaths.
Her eyes had closed and her arms held me tightly. I left one hand playing in her hair, then with the other started to smooth the curves of her body I could reach, frequently under her shirt, occasionally trading hands.
Then, lips still locked together, I bent down just a little further, clasped her firmly, and lifted her off the ground. Her eyes snapped open and she went a little rigid, but she wrapped her legs around my hips. I turned and set her on top of the bed, and finally stopped our kiss.
“Nobody’s kissed me like THAT,” she said.
I rested one finger across her lips. “Shhhhh. Just feel. Talk later.”
With long, smooth movements I caressed her legs, her hips, her sides, her breasts, then made my way back down her beautiful body. I repeated the caress, unbuttoning one button of her shirt every time until it lay completely open. With both hands I smoothed her skin up to her shoulder, then working my fingers around her arm, helped her pull herself out of one sleeve. I then rolled her over on her stomach, and pulled her shirt completely off.
She lay, long and straight, face-down on the bed with her arms tucked in close, shivering. I was sure it wasn’t the temperature this time, for I’d warmed up the house nicely, setting the vents so my room was more comfortable. I climbed up onto the bed next to her, one knee on either side of her supply rounded buttocks, and placed my hands on the small of her back.
After a stolen glance at my clock, I began a modest pressure massage. I’d always been good at this, and though it had been six years since Catherine had died, I’d taken great pleasure and pride in gifting her with frequent, luxurious massages. I might have been out of practice, but things came back to me quickly. I used my knuckles whenever I could, kneading her muscles. I smoothed over any of the bonier parts of her back with my fingertips instead, and I paid particular attention to the back of Jessica’s neck and her beautiful tangle of long, blond hair.
At fifteen minutes I shifted, spreading her legs a few inches apart and kneeling next to her. I ached to be chewing on her ass cheeks, or to be buried in her most heat, but kept myself in check. Instead I included the back of her legs now, occasionally returning to neck, shoulders, back. I worked my knuckles slightly harder into her thighs and calves, but really dug them into the arches of her feet. I pulled and stretched her toes, smoothed her skin up and down, and occasionally leaned into a tighter muscle.
I didn’t slow the massage down until I’d given Jessica 31 minutes. By that time she had relaxed so much I doubted she could have lifted her foot on her own power. She felt like a rag-doll under my hands. She’d also begun moaning almost continually, loud enough that I was glad her face was half buried in my pillow.
Carefully returning her to her back, I helped arrange her arms away from her sides, her legs spread open, and returned to massaging her feet, her shins, her thighs. I had learned how strangely well Catherine had reacted to massaging her knees – so long as I didn’t fiddle with her kneecaps, it seemed the meatier parts relished the attention.
Jessica’s moans had given way to heavy breathing, aware that she shouldn’t make enough noise to carry to Mary. I climbed back onto the bed, knelt between her feet, and pushed her legs slowly, but firmly, apart. I watched as her eyes snapped open again, staring with unfocused alarm at the ceiling. Her breathing sped up, but her arms remained limp, spread out to either side, palms up.
I leaned down, approaching very slowly, and teased her glistening pussy lips apart with my tongue. A catch entered her breathing as she almost wheezed with every breath, as if in pain. I explored with my tongue and lips, probing into the hole, up and around her clitoris, sucked gently, nipped with my lips. I tried lapping up her juices, but she was simply too wet. Her body trembled violently now, non-stop, and when I looked up I saw she’d turned her hands over and gripped the comforter frantically. Her back had arched. Against my sides I could feel her legs were tight, her feet strained as though she could reach across the room and push the wall with her toes.
Jessica squeaked something inaudible in three panted, high-pitched, inarticulate whispers, but I couldn’t make it out. I could tell, however, that if I didn’t stop she was going to start yelling, so I eased back.
Smoothly replacing my tongue and mouth with my fingers and hand, I rose and straddled one of her legs. Her head was turned on its side now, away from me, her mouth open wide, blasting air out and sucking it in, but her quaking was less frantic.
As I worked my first two fingers deeper, in and out of her vagina, my thumb rubbing unevenly against her clitoris, I worked my own aching penis out of my pajama fly. With a slight thwack, I let it fall against her thigh, then leaned over her again, pressing gently into her flesh as my lips found her breasts. She writhed and tossed, her eyes squeezed shut, biting her lips furiously until I relented.
Jessica covered her eyes with her hands and shook, almost as if sobbing, while I stood and took off my pajamas. I was on fire to imbed myself within her luscious body, but I was determined to give her what she’d asked for tonight. There were still several nights ahead of us, I could steer us in other directions then.
I went into the bathroom and came out with a couple towels, some baby oil, and freshly washed hands. Jessica had not moved, but had stopped shaking. Her legs lay open, weak.
I sat down on the bed next to her and began to rub her feet, her ankles, her calves. As I raised a leg for better access, I spread the large towel underneath. When it was fully in place I oiled up my fingers and began to smooth it into her skin with firm pressure. Before long her silky skin glistened, and she moaned as I massaged the soles of her feet.
Unable to help myself, I climbed around, brought her slick, pliant feet together, and pressed them to either side of my dick. She twitched feebly, and I used my own thighs to keep her feet firmly clasped I place as I stroked the inside of her legs, working slowly closer, closer to her pussy.
Shivering with renewed anticipation, she leaned into me, clutching at my penis with her toes as I pushed my fingers back into her vagina. I hovered over her now, propped on one arm, gently fucking her slippery feet. I knew what areas, what fingering techniques had excited Catherine when she was still alive and employed them as best I could remember. She’d always said she enjoyed my fingers more than my mouth, so I suppose I did things well.
Several minutes later, Jessica gave out the tiniest little cries and her pussy contracted around my fingers several times. Judging the time was right, and knowing I couldn’t stand it any longer anyway, I pulled my fingers out, worked myself closer, and took one long, glorious leg in each hand. Holding them high and wide, I lifted and adjusted her hips until I could enter, and finally slid home.
She felt so hot inside, and my penis so cold from being out and exposed for so long, that I gasped and grimaced. She still twitched and occasionally contracted, squeezing me as I pushed deeper. After much squirming, wriggling and shifting I finally felt enveloped. I held her legs up and out like two enormous wings, dipping myself in and out. She pointed her toes again, quivering and contracting, her lips shaking, her eyes squeezed tight shut.
Not being super-human, it didn’t take me long. A thick rush of pleasure and I thrust in as deep as I could reach from this angle, my penis pulsing with my orgasm. I knelt there, knees and limbs aching, energy spent, breathing heavily, eyes roving over her lithe body, her long legs.
After a few moments I looked into her face and caught my breath. In a flash I felt the blood fleeing my penis. “What’s the matter?” I whispered urgently. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Jessica looked terrified, her mouth in a tragic moue her eyes spilling over with tears. Her arms lay limply to either side, her legs suddenly heavy on my arms. She merely shook her head and began to sob, trying to keep her cries as quiet as possible.
“No!” she managed through a sob. I had shifted, preparing to pull away and let her legs down. She worked her legs furiously and I let them go, confused, hurt. But she didn’t writhe away from me. Her legs swung around my waist and held me in place, though I had almost no hard left to stay inside her. She reached her arms up for me, still crying, in a clear request for an embrace.
Uncertain, I lay down atop her, holding as much of my weight on my elbows as I could, afraid of putting too much pressure on her gorgeous, crying body. She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and pulled me tighter to her, clutching with what strength she had in her legs.
I did my best to just be there, solid, warm, and steady, though inside I was in turmoil. I had any number of guesses what had set her off, but hadn’t enough information to know for sure. Clearly she wanted me to hold her, so I did. I worked one hand into her hair and began to massage the side of her head as she wound down.
The shaking and urgency in her body caused an involuntary reaction, stiffening me back up somewhat despite my recent ejaculation. I wasn’t fully erect, but the way she sobbed, and the insistence with which she clutched my body caused her pussy to rub my cock in and out, in and out. I felt horrible, enjoying myself even unintentionally while she was in such distress, yet felt to pull away would do more harm.
Finally, Jessica subsided into sniffles let her arms relax, then let me go and started to dry her eyes.
“Don’t,” she said shakily, as I started to move. “Don’t leave me. I mean,” she clarified. “Please don’t pull yourself out. Just – just lay on me. Let me feel you, for a moment longer.”
“Jess,” I began, though I complied.
She shook her head again, tentatively letting her legs down, as though afraid I might back up if she let me. Finally she relaxed, still sniffling, still trying to dry her face. The shift in her hips stirred my penis further and I thickened a little in her sopping pussy.
“Can’t I get you a Kleenex?” I asked, hoping she’d refuse.
“Not yet,” she took a shuddering breath.
“What happened?” I asked, insecure guilt flooding through me. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” Jessica said, trying to smile, her eyes glittering with tears. “Well, everything. But nothing wrong. Or maybe everything wrong.”
“I don’t understand,” I murmured.
The terrified expression started to transform her features and she looked through me. “I’ll – I’ll try to explain,” she stammered.
Jessica took several calming breaths, then reached up and stroked my arms as I held myself up over her body. “Oh, Tim. Mr. Schmidt,” she started, continuing before I could address how she should address me. “You did exactly what I asked. You were amazing. I never knew I could feel like that. I had no idea those sensations were possible. I only know the abstract and overused word ecstasy did not prepare me in the least.”
She looked down, her eyes still unfocused, through my chest. “I wanted you to do that. I wanted you to push all the right buttons, to light me up. I just…” she stopped, her fingers working around my biceps. “It was far too strong. Far too powerful. I was completely helpless. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t control anything. I was completely overwhelmed. How many times I wanted to ask you to stop, urgently, frightened by the pleasure – but I couldn’t! I tried! I wanted to regain control, to have some vestige of power left, not over you but over myself.”
She took another shuddering breath and looked into my eyes. “I had no idea. I wasn’t prepared. In those moments I would have done anything for you to continue, even as I was desperate for you to stop. Nothing else mattered, I didn’t care what was going on, what you were doing to me, who might find out, what I might neglect or ignore just to have the pleasure continue!”
Her eyes looked troubled. “It frightened me, and even that heightened my pleasure. I don’t want to want anything that much! Even now I can feel myself both yearning for that again and desperate to flee, to get away, to break myself of what could become a terrible addiction! I…” she looked almost wild as she stammered. “I’m almost afraid I would sign my soul away to have you do that again – that it’s almost inevitable that I will. Not right now, but I know the need will build again. I don’t want to give that power to anyone, but it’s too late – and I won’t want to give it to anyone else! I know you wouldn’t abuse it, wouldn’t abuse me – you only did what I asked. But I know it exists now, I know it is possible. I’m so afraid. Afraid of what I’d do to get it again, or that you wouldn’t – you wouldn’t…”
All the devils, all the angels, all the thudding of hot blood in my loins thundered in my ears and in my penis. I could feel my loins fighting the opposed urges to deflate and to harden into a rock. Temptations and urgent desires of my own raced through me in a maelstrom of unforgivable sin and warm, tender love. Was there a part of me, a dangerous, tiny part that craved that control? Desperately wanted to play the horrible mind game that would bind this beautiful girl to me? Sex was so tempting, so alluring, I’d forgotten my own appetites, and how much I could want it.
Her words and fears drilled into me. I realized they were as much for me as for her. She had done everything right, and was even right about this. She could not have had this kind of sexual experience without building up for it for so long – what had she said? More than a year? I would love to have claimed to have been the kind of lover she ascribed to my skills, to have been able to do that to any woman, but I knew I was mostly lucky. True, I had to know what I was doing, but I had to have been handed this set of circumstances to deliver the kind of pleasure she’d felt.
But as to what she’d said, it sounded more like how I’d felt about sex in my younger, more desperately hungry years. She’d come to me for my physical maturity, for the warm, tender way I could bring her into sexual experiences, but she’d also ended up with my mental, emotional maturity. Much as I would love unlimited access to her delectable body, I knew it would never work. She was going to ask in the future, and I was going to be powerless to refuse. But I couldn’t control her. I couldn’t manipulate her. I could not grasp that soul she said she thought she was willing to sell, but I could stroke it, caress it, kiss it.
I bent down over her, ever closer, watching the jewels of her eyes as I leaned in for a soft, long, reassuring kiss. She responded, but I could tell in her fear she wanted to finish the kiss and hear her salvation.
“Oh Jessica,” I said softly when we parted, mastering myself when I really wanted to squirm some more, slide in and out, make her feel pleasure instead of talking. But what I knew was what I was about to tell her, and it applied to me too. “I don’t know how much you know about sex from my side, but it feels incredible too. Some men go crazy over it, lose their heads, do horrible things or go to unrealistic lengths to get it. But what they’re really fighting – what you’re dealing with now, and what I used to suffer through too – is uncertainty, not true addiction.”
Her tear-brightened eyes kept looking back and forth between mine, searching for her reassurance, her answer.
“I think the key to thoroughly enjoy the pleasure without losing control is to know you *can* have it again. Maybe not every instant you want it, and it’s likely you won’t reach those heights every time, but you can have it again. When I was new to sex, I wanted it constantly. Realize I, like most men, have an orgasm almost every time – sometimes more than once, as you’ve proved – I have sex. Not all of them are equal. Some are much better than others, but I have them nevertheless. That incredible height, that blinding white moment of total pleasure, was available and I wanted it.”
She frowned, as if starting to understand but not getting it fully. I continued. “When I felt the most frantic, the least in control of myself, I was inevitably more concerned that I would be denied sexual pleasure. That perhaps my lover would not want to make love to me, or I would have to go to great lengths to convince her each time I wanted it. In some ways I felt compelled to suck every ounce out of every experience, in case it was denied in the future. Eventually, over the years, as it became obvious that I was not going to be denied, that my lover was understanding, that I was going to have years and years of wonderful sex ahead of me, I relaxed greatly. It didn’t mean I enjoyed sex any less, or that my orgasms were any less intense.”
“I don’t see…” she still frowned. I smiled and interrupted her when she paused.
“Listen, perhaps I’m a little off track, but the two concepts are related. Your concern is that this magnificent sensation is going to alter who you are – change your personality in horrible ways, make you an addict to the pleasure. It certainly may be something you always want in your life, something you want access to, and the ability to feel that way again. However you will only actually do unrealistic things – only do damage to yourself and others – if you feel you can’t get what you want any other way. What I’m telling you is that you don’t have to do damage to yourself or others to get what you want.”
I put my weight on one arm, reached up and caressed the side of her face. “You’re warring with what you said earlier – that you knew you couldn’t have me forever. That you wanted me for the week, and you knew you had to be discrete. Now you’re not sure. You’ve unwrapped a present, like when you were younger and had a spectacular Christmas present. You want to play with it all the time, even when you know you can’t or even when you’re tired of playing with it, part of you still wants to be enjoying it.”
I worked my fingers through her hair, keenly aware that, though we were mostly still, she kept pressure up around my penis and I remained, again, hard. It was difficult to say what I was about to say, but it was the truth, and that’s what she’d come to me for. Besides, I knew I was more than twice her age, couldn’t fill all the needs in her life. “You’re going to find a lucky man some day, probably soon. He will fill your needs. You may have to teach him, to guide him how to make you feel as good as you did tonight, but be patient and the rewards will be – as you can tell – wonderful. Take your time, don’t rush with the first male who walks across your path, find the one who is willing to work with you, to learn you.”
I paused, and she looked less afraid, though still troubled. Her eyebrows creased, she still bit her lip.
“And yes,” I sighed, my own vulnerability showing on my own face. “I think, until then, I would be unable to deny you. I would – I would crave this too much. I’d need us to be just as discrete, just as careful, just as subtle…” I paused again. “But yes, I would not simply abandon you. I would so much want to share this with you again, if you asked for it.”
Her fears melted away, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down. She kissed me hard and urgently, the flood of her relief adding power to her momentarily penned up passions. She raised her knees again and writhed around my penis. We were too wet for her grip to add friction, but the pleasure of her need engulfed me and I gave myself to her again.