Joey

Shirtless, he stood in front of me. The chiseled structure of his perfectly sculpted body would have commanded anyone’s attention, but my focus was on his eyes. The green specks around the iris gave perfect contrast to the golden-brown centers. Peering into them provided me a keen sense of comfort, and at that moment, I needed it.

He lifted my shirt over my head. My heart thrashed in response. As the garment fell at my feet, my breathing all but stopped.

He reached around me and unclasped my bra. The tips of his fingers gently traced the outline of my shoulders as he brushed the straps over my arms. My eyes fell closed momentarily. I heard myself inhale a quivering breath.

With one hand cupping my breast, he lightly pressed the tip of his index finger against my lips. My mind fumbled with where to place my hands. I had so many options, all of which I’d held in reserve, yet they dangled at my sides like heavy weights.

It was the most sensual moment that I had ever experienced, and I was on the cusp of making a fool of myself. Certain that revealing my lack of experience would lead to the demise of our sexual relationship, I did the first thing that came to mind.

I flattened my palms and pressed them against his chest.

I had no idea what to expect, but what I received caused me to grin a giddy smile. His taught muscles invited me to explore every inch of him with the tips of my fingers. Ever so slowly, I draped my hands down the length of his torso, savoring the rippled structure of his abdomen.

His jeans put a temporary stop to my pleasures, preventing me from further exploration. Desperately wanting to proceed, but uncertain of how to do so, I opened my eyes.

He was looking right at me. One hand cupped my breast while the other rested along my waist. His mouth held a content smile.

My desires throbbed between my legs with every beat of my heart.

At the foot of his bed, naked from the waist up, we stood with our eyes locked on each other. Somehow, despite our combined desires, we’d reached an impasse.

I waited.

His thumb brushed against my nipple. A tingling ran through me, causing me to shiver. As if he sensed my satisfaction, he did it again. While I relished in the pleasure of his touch, his other hand slid from my waist, along my lower back, and came to a stop in the back pocket of my jeans.

My eyes fell closed.

Using my butt cheek as leverage, he pulled me into him and kissed me deeply.

Dear God.

I ached for him. My mind was reeling. He wedged his thigh between my legs. The tingling started again.

I couldn’t take it any longer.

I reached for his belt. With our tongues intertwined and our naked chests pressed to one another, I pulled against the leather strap and reached for the buckle. After what seemed to be an eternity of my bumble-fingered fumbling, it finally came free.

Frantically, I shoved my hand deep into his pants.

Holy cow.

Fascinated at the feeling of having his cock in my hand, I stroked the length of his shaft anxiously.

Our lips parted, and he leaned away from me.

With his eyes fixed on mine, he pushed his jeans along his thighs and then to the floor. After adding his boxer shorts to the pile of clothes at our side, he stood before me completely naked.

I looked him up and down. The muscles of his tattooed biceps were tense and bulging. His wide chest paid perfect complement to his narrow torso. The scars on his hands gave hint to his protective nature, and he stubble that had grown since he last shaved gave him enough edge to create pause.

But. It was what he had on the inside that had drawn me so closely to him.

In short, he was my perfect man.

There was one thing I was versed on, and although it wasn’t all I had to offer, it was what I was comfortable giving him at that moment.

I desperately wanted to please him. I lowered myself to my knees and looked up. “I want you in my mouth.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Please?”

A slight sigh escaped him.

He took a step forward.

I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and ached in anticipation.

He guided himself toward my lips. I flicked the tip of my tongue against the precum that glistened from the tip of his cock. Fueled by the slightly bitter taste, I eagerly took him into my mouth.

I slid my lips up and down his thick shaft, taking more of him with each stroke of my mouth. With his scrotum cupped in my hand, I sucked excitedly, eventually accepting him into my throat fully.

I looked up, hoping to see satisfaction in his eyes. His head was tilted back and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

I reached behind him, gripped his bare butt in my hands, and forced what little of him that remained past my willing lips.

He drew an uneven breath and then met the gaze of my watering eyes.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

He reached for my head and pulled himself from my mouth.

My heart sank. “You didn’t like it?”

“I can’t fucking stand it,” he said. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“You liked it?”

He guided me to my feet. “Loved it.”

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and looked at him wantonly, hoping that he’d somehow justify continuing our sexual adventure. I’d waited a lifetime for what I was poised to share, and I was afraid I could wait no longer.

I felt if he’d give himself to me, that we’d connect on a level that secured my presence in his life, and in his being.

A magical existence known only to those who truly belonged in each other’s lives. A feeling so difficult to define, that any combination of words would fall short of an accurate description. These were the things I was certain we would share afterward.

He lifted me from my feet and turned toward the bed. I sucked in a breath. He must have anticipated my desires, but it came as no real surprise. At times, it seemed he could read my thoughts.

I hoped this was one of those times.

I’m giving myself to you because I trust you.

Be careful with me, please.

You’re my first.