Making A Very Long Story Merely Long
She didn’t know what it was about him. She just kept letting things happen. She’d never been this way around guys. She constantly questioned and analyzed every move to death. She finally wanted to relinquish her control and be vulnerable in embracing the absolute wrong person. A married man? She was crazy. Normally she considered herself a moral person. Doing this was the complete opposite of moral. And it applied to things even outside of the bedroom. He always got her to have that ‘one more drink’ and even to smoke pot for the first time. In college she never caved. Had a stick up her ass about peer pressure. But one look at D, and her resolve disappeared.
. . .
They lay in her bed, talking, and holding each other, passing the time. At one point she let out a huge sigh.
“Something on your mind?”
“I’ve been debating whether to say this, but would you mind if I said I wanted to kiss you?”
“Um, no?”
She turned into him. It was soft and tender. Almost chaste. She loved the scratchiness of his mustache and beard against her face.
And then he ruined it.
“You’ve wanted to kiss me for a long time now haven’t you?” he mused, a very smug look on his face. It reminded her too much of a past boyfriend’s sureness that he would get it all his way. So goddamn cocky.
“Mmm. But god, that is such an egotistical remark you know that?” That smug look was wiped clean from his face. He wasn’t quite expecting something like that from her. Up until then she’d come across as quite pliant.
“I was just born with a big ego,” he quipped a few moments later, and grinned.
She wanted to bite his lips and he was making it difficult. He preferred soft, gentle kisses to her eager, more violent ones. He also didn’t want her to leave any marks. She promised to be careful.
She had her leg slung over his and he pulled her tighter to him. With his rough and calloused hands he stroked up her leg over her thigh and ass and up her back, under her shirt.
“Can I touch your breasts?”
She murmured “yes” and he let out a moaning sigh as he reached for her. He was very gentle and soft. She knew what she liked, but didn’t want to say anything. There was perhaps some remnant of sanity back there that told her not to get carried away. But as the moments passed they began to grind into each other. And then as he went for another pass over her ass, his hand slipped down to her crotch. He began to rub, trying to get her off.
“I’ll do anything you want me to, let me help you,” he whispered desperately.
She felt ashamed, “I can’t.”
“It’s okay. I promise not to do anything you don’t want me to.”
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Dear Jewrotica
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