*Not based on a true story :)*
—–
*”Thanks for coming over,” he said, as I close the front door behind me. “I know it’s late.”*
*”That’s all right.”*
*”You know you don’t have to, just because I ask.”*
*”It’s OK. I don’t mind.”*
*”You sure?” he said, a worried look on his face. I just smile and cup his cheek in one hand.*
*”It’s late,” I tell him, walking to his bedroom. “Let’s do this.”*
*I walk into his room and turn down the bedsheets, then remove – never strip – my clothes and fold them neatly in the usual spot on his dresser. He has several towels folded there, and I take one and lay it out on the bed, then lie down on the bed so the towel is under my waist, and smile again at him as he comes in. I see he’s drying his hands on yet another towel, and I’m happy to see he remembered to wash his hands before sitting beside me and running his fingers along my leg, up my thigh, along my slit. I stop him when he tries to put a finger up in me; he knows I don’t like that, and he smiles sheepishly as I shake my head. Every time at first he tries, and every time I tell him no.*
*He strips naked, and slides up between my legs, running his hands up my sides to cup my breasts, bending his head down between my legs to my entrance. But before he can start, I squeeze my thighs together, push his head away and ask him if he’s brushed his teeth? He rolls his eyes, but quickly gets up and walks to the bathroom, where I hear the sound of water running for a minute. This time, when he returns, I smile at him and let him bend his head between my legs and run his tongue along me. I sigh at the warmth that ignites in my belly at the feel of his tongue, that slight mint burn along my slit, my clit. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling, pulling away only once when he again tries to put a finger inside.*
*”Do you like that?” I ask him.*
*”I do, yes,” he says, softly.*
*”What do you like?”* I ask him again, lifting myself up ever slightly to allow him to run his tongue inside of me.*
*”I like* you*,” he says.*
*”Do I taste good to you?”*
*”Very good,” he murmurs, and at his words I feel myself get wetter still, pull his head a little closer, listen to the sounds of him licking at the moisture there, drinking me in, feel the roughness of his tongue as it grinds along that one, oh-so-sweet spot, there…* just *there…*
*Finally, I pull him up. “Come on, let’s go.”*
*He positions himself on top of me, and at the first touch of him there at my gate I instinctively hiss and draw back, away from him. It doesn’t* hurt *, it never has, but I can never shake that feeling of strangeness of who it is and who I’m doing this with as he enters me that first time. He doesn’t know why it happens, but he expects it and he waits for me to relax before pushing* up *and* in *until I feel him fully inside of me, me wrapped around him, hot and thick in me. Now that he’s fully within me, that strangeness evaporates and as he starts to move, I relax and let him do as he likes, holding him close and occasionally kissing his neck, raising my hips to meet him each time as I do so.*
*”Do I feel good?” I ask him, as I do every time, and his breath is hot in my ear as he assures me I do.*
*”Am I soft? Am I warm?” I ask him, and he assures me I am, and his rhythm begins to speed up as I bend my knees to raise my hips slightly, to take him as fully as I can, so he can feel himself within me, feel me give myself to him as much as I am able, know that I want him, all of him.
*”Are you almost there?” he asks, and I tell him I am, that I’m going to come any moment. I’m not, of course – how can I come knowing who it is inside of me? – but at my words he starts to thrust hard, almost hard enough to bruise, but I smile at the familiar motion and I don’t mind. “Do you want me to pull out?” another familiar question, and in response I shake my head and hold him close against me, telling him that he can come inside of me if he wants to. He always does. One hard motion as I feel him twitch, spasm up in me, then that warm rush of liquid running out and down onto the towel as he pulls out.*
*Wordlessly he hands me a towel, and I clean myself as best I can before I roll over and take him into my mouth the way he likes, the smell of sex heavy in the air, the familiar taste of myself on him as I use my mouth to clean him, along the length of him, breath hitching with every touch of my tongue, every drop of come sucked out, swallowed until I could taste nothing more than my own saliva as he lies there in the gloom.*
*”Did you come?” he asks me as I straighten, half-asleep in the night, and I assure him that of course I did, I always do, and as his eyes slide shut I gently wrap his blankets around him, dress myself in the darkness and once again go back home, alone, to my own bed.*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/yx5s65/the_obligation_m29f28_vanilla