First Impressions. - Part 20.

It was their two week anniversary already. Things were getting hotter and heavier without reaching the point of hot and heavy. She and John had initiated skin to skin contact. There'd been cupping of boob by the end of the first week. He was taking it slowly because of the circumstances. Was he taking it too slowly though? The longer it took them to attempt physical union, the more likely it became she'd cock things up. No matter how hard she tried her internal censor kept letting her down. Comments and questions, she should have kept to herself, kept spilling out.

Thursday had been a prime example. In an effort to make up for that night from hell, when she'd told him she'd never be drunk enough to sleep with him, she'd posited the theory there might in fact be a level of blood in her alcohol system where congress would be possible. It was the closest she'd ever seen him to being offended. He pointed out that a doctor's exam combined with some form of counselling should have been her first option. In an effort to appease him she'd eventually given in. After he'd overcome all of her objections. The female gynecologist informed Steph there was no physical problem. Everything in her underwear was in order. The female counsellor/psychologist had given her some calming exercises to do on a regular basis. Steph was far too wound up, tense and anxious to do calming exercises. There wasn't enough time in the day to do the number of exercises required to overcome the tension and anxiety let alone her overstretched nerves.

Not content with undermining their slowly blossoming union, she'd asked another question that shouldn't have been asked. Things were going well. They were both almost topless on the couch. Going at it like teenagers with a curfew. There was some sucking, which was most enjoyable on her part. John wasn't really getting a lot. Her hands hadn't moved below his waist yet. The monster had not been unleashed. It hadn't even been stroked. Her feminine juices might not have been flowing, but they'd definitely moved past the point of being glacial. The two of them lay there, panting and sweating. She was lying on his legs with her head resting on his lower chest, both of them getting their breath back. John was looking at her with a slight smile on his face. His hand caressing her hair. She still couldn't remember what she'd been thinking about or why, when the words escaped from her treacherous lips.

"Are we a couple?" Steph blurted.
The expression on his face reinforced her immediate regret at allowing this utterance to abscond.
"Um... Well. I was hoping we were. The whole I love you, you love me paradigm. Why are you asking?"
Then, much to her shock, her brain farted again.
"If we're friends with benefits there aren't many benefits that I can see."
His quizzical look around at the debris, themselves included, caused her heart to climb into her throat.
"I'm quite happy with things right now. Aren't you?"
"Of course I am."
Oh no. That sounded so insincere. It wasn't. She was happy with him and with all the foreplay. It was merely the complete absence of after play which concerned her. No one climbed three quarters of the way up a mountain, then turned back because they couldn't be bothered to carry on to the summit. To her it felt as though they were both giving up. In addition Steph was a member of the progressive, liberal, metropolitan elite. She'd had sex with men she'd no intention of sleeping with. Quite frequently while at university. Oh Christ, she was a slut.

There was no doubt in her mind, she was gradually chipping away at the fragile foundations of their relationship. Then in a vain effort to retrieve the situation she'd set in motion events which were so wonderful they were awful. She suggested, her brain wasn't in gear at the time she was sure, that they should try increasing the speed of their slow seduction. That led to the expectation, him being a man, John would become an octopus the very next time they met. Instead he sneaked up on her. If anything things cooled down. Very few buttons were undone. Days later he ambushed her, in her own flat no less. He walked her to her door, she'd invited him in after a slow sensual kiss. For the first time he took her in his arms to continue the assault. The next thing she knew they were on her sofa. Eating each others faces. It was a distraction, allowing him to unbutton her blouse and unfasten her bra.

John feasted on the twins as he slid to the floor. Tiny bites and kisses all over her neck, her chest, then eventually her stomach. Before she could recover her senses he'd unfastened her belt. Was she wearing nice underwear? Thank God she was. More functional than sexy, thankfully she'd trimmed that morning. Those calming breathing exercises came in handy for the first time. There was a possibility that if she could relax they actually do it for the first time. In through the nose for the count of three. Out through the mouth for another count of three. And repeat. Go to the happy place as his tongue dipped into her navel, while her panties and jeans were pulled down past her knees. No need to be afraid of his cock tearing her in two. Ripping her open like a razor sharp spike. Happy place, happy place. His lips moved lower and lower. Leaving her aroused, yet puzzled. Did he know what he was doing down there? John had confessed to a lack of experience. Her breath caught as he delivered little bites to her inner thighs.

His body moved up hers. Their lips met noisily. He attacked her neck sending shivers of desire up and down her spine to explode in her groin. This might work. Penetration could take place. As long as she didn't think about it or its painful consequences. Any minute now he'd be getting his fleshy sword out and pile driving it into her soft core. Instead he moved down her body again. In case he'd missed a few bits the previous time. Right down to her stomach and legs. She was quivering. Both with expectation and trepidation. His mouth moved unexpectedly to a new area. This was unexpected. So unexpected she began to gabble objections as she pushed at his head.

"Oh... No... John.. I don't really like.... It doesn't do much for... I really can't see what all the fuss is uh.. bow... tuh.. Oh! Fuck! That's! Good!" She wailed frantically.

Now her fingers were laced into his hair. Her hips thrusting into his face as some extraordinary noises occurred. In a few agonizingly extended minutes her first orgasm crashed into Steph's body. It wasn't a big one. It still felt good after all this time. She lay back, a tiny curl on her lips. To her amazement John carried on. becoming ever more creative and dextrous with his tongue and fingers. Number two hit her. Followed by number three which struck with the force of a tidal wave. Lifting her up. Hurling her onto her bed naked. There might have been something else in between, but she couldn't recall. Rinse and repeat. Rinse and repeat.

Replete. Satiated. Exhausted. Steph heard the tap running in the bathroom as her scattered wits took a holiday in the Caribbean. When he slid into bed beside her, all she could do was groan softly. Steph didn't even have the strength to cuddle him. It didn't matter. His arms encircled her, pulled her close. He kissed her forehead, nuzzled her soft, but sweaty, hair. She could smell the mouthwash. Feel his erection poking into her lower abdomen. This was nice. So nice. Dreamland dragged her under. When she drifted into semi consciousness, they were spooning. Her bottom was being nudged. It had been far too long since that had last happened. Wow. That was good. Easing her eyes open she saw the clock flashing. Holy shit it was 4:07. Steph leaped from the bed like a scalded cat. Fruitlessly began searching for her clothes. She must have been naked before they hit the bedroom. John eased up onto his elbow, reached for the bedside light switch.

"What are you doing?"
"What do you mean what am I doing? It's after four. I'm trying to find my clothes."
"Why?"
"You idiot, I have to get back to my place."
"This is your place."
"I know... I'm trying to find your clothes. Ah. There they are."
"Are you kicking me out?"
She could see where he might get that impression. If he had the creatively devious mind she possessed, he might become suspicious as to why her immediate reaction had been to get the hell out of there. Steph dropped her ass onto the bed.
"Would you believe I got over excited?"
"Not really. I think you believe it would be a bad thing if Taz or Bella found us in bed together."

It was a strong possibility. Steph wasn't really sure though. In fact her behavior mystified her more than it did him. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Her telling him that would seem suspicious thus confirming her sluthood. What the fuck was she up to? It had to have raised at least a billion questions in his head. Steph didn't have a single answer. John raised the covers so she could slide in beside him. They'd been spooning. Returning to that position could be explained. Facing him was more than she could cope with right now.

John slipped out of her bed, without waking her, a couple of hours later. The dipping of the bed as he knelt on it roused her. He gave her a bit of a smooch before saying his goodbye. Steph luxuriated in her relaxed state. Oral sex was a lot better than breathing exercises at producing relaxation. She'd never really been a fan of cunnilingus. Now she'd have to modify her opinion. Give it another few hundred chances, before making a final decision. No one had ever taken her to those kind of heights. Her eyes sprung open. Wait a minute. He said he was inexperienced sexually. He'd not had another sexual partner since his wife left him four years ago. There was no way he could be that good. Brendan was a handsome stud, by his own admission, he'd had scores of partners. Many of them models and celebrities. Everyone knew their sex was far better than ordinary people had. Brendan's technique was pathetic by comparison. Did John believe oral sex wasn't sex? He had to have practised a lot on someone. There were no instructional videos on YouTube. The only certainty was Steph being jealous of all those women John hadn't had actual sex with.