My Clocking In System

Every time she thought he’d move on he stayed, and stayed, until she was arching up off her own duvet trying to get him lower and he wouldn’t go.

"You keep stopping."

"I’m not stopping."

"You keep slowing down."

"Yeah."

"Why."

"Because you’ve got about a thousand nerve endings you’ve never met and I’d rather you met them one at a time."

Her tits she thought she knew about. She was wrong. Nobody had ever done it like that, with that much time, his mouth on one nipple and his hand full of the other, and by the end of it she’d lost the ability to construct a sentence and both nipples had gone so tight that when he came back to one she flinched and made a noise she’d never made before.

Then he took her knickers off and she lifted her hips for him and went completely still once they were gone.

He’s looking.

He’s actually looking at my cunt. Right at it.

She had never in her life been looked at there. Not by anybody. 24 years old, and a man was knelt at the end of her own bed with the lamp pointed at the wall, looking at her, and she was so wet she could feel it slick on the inside of both thighs, and she had absolutely nowhere to put her hands.

She went red to the collarbones. She let him look. It cost her more than the dress had.

"You’ve gone quiet again," she told the ceiling.

"Yeah."

"Bad quiet?"

"Mara. Look at me."

She looked.

"There’s nothing bad about one single part of this."

She nodded, once, tight.

"Now open your legs."

"God."

She opened her legs, and then his mouth was on her cunt, and every thought in her head went out like a fuse.

There is no version of it she’d imagined that was anything like it.

She’d done things to herself for years. Efficiently, usually late, usually with 2 fingers on her clit and somebody’s forearms in her head. She’d assumed she understood the general category.

This was not in the category.

Warm and wet and soft, and slow, and it kept not doing the thing she wanted, and every time she got close to the shape of it he’d move off her clit and something else would light up instead. Her thighs came up round his ears with no instruction from her at all. Her hips came off the bed chasing his mouth and he put a forearm across her stomach and pinned her flat, and the sound that came out of her then was one she’d be embarrassed about for a fortnight.

*Why is that. Why is being held down, why does that, *

Then 2 fingers going into her, slowly, and she was tight enough that there was a stretch to it that stopped just short of hurting, and he curled them up and found something inside her she had genuinely not known was in there.

Her back came off the bed.

"AH! What’s that. What is that."

"That’s yours."

"Don’t stop doing it. Don’t stop doing it."

His fingers stayed and his tongue came back onto her clit and stayed there too, and then it started building, and it was nothing like the ones she gave herself, which arrived in about 90 seconds and were done in 10. This came up from somewhere underneath her, slow and enormous and getting bigger, and about halfway up it stopped being pleasant and turned into something closer to alarming.

Something’s happening.

Something’s actually happening and I don’t know if I can,

"Let it," he said, into her.

"I can’t, it’s too, "

"Mara."

"What."

"Let it."

And it went off.

It went off like nothing she’d ever had, up through her stomach and out into her arms and legs, and she lost about 4 seconds entirely, and when she came back to herself she had both hands fisted in his hair and her thighs locked round his head and she was making a noise that was still going and that she had no way of stopping.

It went on. And on. Then went on some more, in waves that got further apart, and she rode every one of them out on his mouth with no idea what to do with her hips and no interest whatsoever in being quiet, in a corner flat with nobody either side and 40 floors of empty living room over her head.

When it finally let her go she dropped flat on the bed with both arms over her face.

"Oh."

He came up the bed and lay on his side. His mouth and chin were wet with her and she looked at that for a second and felt her stomach turn over again.

She was breathing like she’d done 20 lengths.

"That’s what that is," she said, from under her arms.

"Yeah."

"I’ve done that to myself about 400 times and it was not, " She took her arms off her face and her eyes were wet and she was furious about that. "Well. That’s every night of the last 2 years ruined retrospectively. Thank you very much."

Then she rolled onto her side and put her hand flat on his chest, and her hand had gone cold, and she’d have denied that under oath.

"Right. So how do we, is there a, do I get on, "

"Mara."

"I’ve watched a considerable amount of, I mean I know mechanically, obviously, "

"Mara."

"What."

"Come here."

And he pulled her on top of him, and she made a startled noise about it, and then she was sat astride his hips with all her weight settling down onto him and her hair falling round both their faces.

"Like this," he said. "You do it. You stop when you want, you go as slow as you want, and I can’t get it wrong."

Oh.

He’s thought about this. He’s thought about how not to frighten me.

She reached down between them and got hold of his cock and her hand shook badly enough that she swore at herself out loud.

Right. Come on. You’ve wanted this since October.

She lifted up and got the head of him against her cunt and stopped there, and even that was a shock, the blunt warm size of it sat right where nothing had ever been.

"Slow," he said. "You’re in charge. Nothing happens that you don’t do."

"I know."

"An inch. Then stop."

She came down an inch.

"Oh."

Not what she’d expected at all. She’d expected pain and got pressure, an enormous unignorable fullness that was not painful yet and was not comfortable either and that pulled her whole stomach tight.

"All right?"

"Yes. It’s a lot. Give me a second."

She took the second. Took more than the second. He did not move one muscle underneath her the whole time, and she noticed that, and filed it.

"More," she said.

She took more, and about halfway down it changed.

A sharpness, low and specific and hot, and her whole body went rigid round it, and she made a small noise she heard from a long way off.

There it is. That’s it. That’s the thing.

"Mara, "

"No. Keep still. Don’t move."

She sat absolutely still with her eyes shut and his cock halfway in her, and breathed through it while it burned, and then it stopped burning and went dull, and the whole business took maybe 10 seconds and was not, in the end, anything like as bad as 6 years of not doing it had led her to believe.

That’s it? That’s what everybody makes such a,