His three fingers make a trail in the oil down my belly.
Then he uses his palm to smooth my pubic hair.
He uses his finger tips to trace my labia.
He’s been at this a while.
My body feels electric with his touch.
I want him to fuck me.
He bends down and kisses me. He tastes of tea and oranges.
I can feel a little puddle of oil on the table between my legs.
A shiver goes through me; maybe a draft from the snow.
"Turn over," he says, urging me with his hand.
"Put your foot up on the chair," Jesse says.
He puts his arms around me and I can feel him hard against my bottom.
"Not right," he says, "A little low or something,"
"How about this?" I say, straddling the chair, with both hands on the back of it.
I feel his hand on my back and then he’s inside of me. All the way.
"Oh, Mmm," I say.
He doesn’t move. It feels hot and full and so good.
We sat in the tent, watching the rain and drank orange Fanta from glass bottles.
The bottles clanked together when we fucked, like little bells.
“With your tongue,” I say, “And then, at the end, use your fingers.”
“Okay, stand up,” he says.
I like that he always unzips my jeans carefully. They drop to the floor. He kisses me through the panties then turns me around and slides them down.
He stands, kisses my cheek, my neck, and down my back.
He pulls the tee shirt over my head.
His fingers are warm on my nipples.
“Mmm, don’t stop,” I say, leaning back into him.
I can feel the heat from him through his clothes.
He turns me around again kisses down my belly.
I put my fingers in his hair and push him lower.
"Are you thinking about what I made you do?"
"Yes," he pants.
"I’m going to make you do it again," I say.
"Hands," I say, snapping on the cuffs. "Turn around."
I kiss his belly, then stand and kiss his mouth; my hands on the back of his head.
Then I step back.
"I like you like that," I say, "so strong and hard and so mine."
"Was this your dream?" he asks.
"Oh, yeah, my dream, no it was way weirder," I say.
"Tell me," he says.
"It was this boy. He was like you but it wasn’t you. He came to the door and said he had something to tell me. Then we were sitting here at the table and he told me that he loved me and that he would do anything I wanted; be anything I wanted."
As I’m talking about the dream I’m using two fingers, stroking him, teasing him. He makes theses soft little moans.
"So I told him I wanted him to be my dog."
"Your dog?" Jesse laughs.
"Yeah. Then I fill a bowl with water and set it under the table."
"What then?" he asks breathing harder as I stroke him.
"He takes off all of his clothes and puts them in the trash and he stands in front of me and turns slowly around so I can see all of him. Then he gets down on the floor and starts drinking from the bowl. He’s got his bottom up and I can see his balls and everything and you know how I like that view."
"Mmmm," he says as I touch him with my tongue.
"You’re close," I say. "Jesse, do you want to be my dog?"
He kisses me after each button.
Then he turns me around, his warm fingers across my nipples, down my belly. He unsnaps my jeans.
"Anything you want," I say, feeling the warmth spread at his touch.
"Mmmm," he says, kissing my ear and down my neck.
He unzips the jeans and touches with just the tips of his fingers. They are gentle, feathery touches. It makes me tingle.
"I didn’t think you were wearing anything under these," he says.
I don’t say anything. I’ve started to move to that other world.
I put my hand over his, push his fingers.
I think of how we look. Him sitting on the stool, naked, bare feet on the floor. Me, standing between his legs, jeans part way down. My hand covering his; urging, guiding and knowing that I’m about to cum.
Three times I touch him and tell him to stop.
“This time you can cum,” I say.
When he does his face and chest are red.
“I love how you look when you do that,” I say, straddling him and kissing him.
“Fuck, it’s been six weeks,” Jesse says.
“More like seven,” I say.
Jesse with his parents and me with mine. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but there were delays and rescheduling.
I missed him like I’ve never missed anyone before.
And my laptop got stolen.
We’re sitting at the cafe, next to each other.
He’s telling me about Nicaragua.
I want to hear about it. I want to fuck him.
“We were in Bluefield,” he says, when I put my fingers on his lips.
“Jess,” I say, “let’s go.”
“What? We just got…Oh, Yeah, okay,” he says, seeing my look.
I follow him out the door.
Jesus, he looks good in those jeans.