A Christmas Affair. Adrianne Byrd
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from the tip of my clit to the base, my sighs heightened, my head tossed faster, and my thighs quivered like a 9.0 earthquake. Focusing on my pleasure allowed him to gain control over his own body—but not for long.
My hands stopped gliding and started pumping. In no time, his toes were curling. “How about this?” I asked. My competitive side had finally come out to play.
I never thought that sex could turn into a competition, but I’m here to testify that it definitely can. At first, I was compelled to win, but then Lyfe’s fingers hit a certain spot and I was ready to wave a white flag of surrender and let him do whatever the hell he wanted to do with my body. I just didn’t care.
Is that bad for me to say? Does that make me some kind of ho?
Then, within a snap of a finger, Lyfe started crying out, “Oh, God!”
I peeked out through my lashes to see that his eyes looked like they were ready to roll out the back of his head. Hell, I’m not even too sure that he was even breathing.
I know that Lyfe is no stranger to the art of masturbation (he’s told me plenty of times about how his mother has nearly walked in on him). But I have a feeling that his large, heavy hands are a poor substitute for my soft, delicate ones, which were currently driving him wild.
“You like this, don’t you, baby?” I asked, leaning up and brushing a kiss against his neck. “Tell me how it feels.”
“It … feels … wonderful,” he panted. “Just don’t … stop.” He planted his hands on both sides of my head and started to rock his hips, as his cock slid in and out of my hand.
“I’m not going to stop this time,” I whispered against his ear. “I promise.” With that, I rained more kisses down the column of his neck and then blew a long steady stream of air against his ear.
“Oh, God, yes.” Lyfe quickly sucked in a deep breath and reminded himself aloud not to come too soon again.
I pulled back, allowing Lyfe to unglue his eyes from the back of his head.
“I’m ready,” I said. “I want my first time to be with you.” I leaned up again, keeping my eyes open as I brushed my lips against his. “Tonight.”
While still holding his gaze, I glided his erection closer to the center of my body.
“Is this it?” he asked, jamming his cock dead into my thigh.
“Ow. No.” I shook my head and then tried not to laugh out loud. “That is definitely not it.”
He struggled to reposition himself while I take hold of his cock again and tried to get him a little closer. But before I could get him to the right spot, he surged his hips forward again and jammed up against the wrong hole.
“OWWW.” I nearly jumped up off the floor.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
The worried look on his face was just priceless. We tried it again, but I warned him, “Don’t do anything until I get you at the right spot.”
Sheepishly, he nodded and waited like a good boy until I eased the head of his cock between my lower lips. Then … this was it. The big moment. I drew in a deep breath, wanting to savor the last few seconds of my virginity. I wanted to be cognizant of the fact that I was going from being a girl to a woman.
“Now?” Lyfe asked, jittery with anticipation. Even his eyes looked fever pitched.
“Now,” I told him and then planted a big wet kiss on him.
He surged forward.
“Ahh.” I tore my lips away just as quickly and sank my nails deep into his shoulder blades.
Lyfe hissed in his own shock and froze. “Did I do something wrong?” For a few seconds, he remained completely and utterly still, except for his throbbing cock pulsing inside of me.
I wasn’t sure if I was okay or not. I was halfway embarrassed and halfway scared that I needed a doctor. I thought he might’ve broken something.
At long last, he pulled his head up to search my face. “Are you all right? Do you want to stop?”
If I said yes, I knew that he would be in an iced shower for at least a week. He continued to hold his breath until I mustered up my courage. “N-no. I’m okay,” I panted.
“Are you sure?” The minute the question was out, I could tell that he wanted to smack himself over the head. Why keep looking a gift horse in the mouth?
I eased on a soft smile and then slid my hands down to his strong, muscled ass. “I’m absolutely positive,” I whispered. Clearly, it was my turn to take charge. I dipped and rolled my hips, easing him in deeper.
Lyfe struggled to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head again. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on mine as he started to move inside of me again. Somehow, in some unexplainable way, my body heat penetrated his soul. At least it felt that way as wave after wave of pleasure washed over us. Our hips moved in sync and, within a few glorious strokes, we were filling the living room with soft sighs and moans. We’d done it. We’d officially made the leap from mere high school boyfriend and girlfriend to full-fledged lovers, and it was clear that neither one of us was sorry.
While we rode high, I knew that this was a moment to be savored and forever etched into our memories. I watched as the flittering light from the fireplace danced across his dewy skin, and gloated while his lower lip quivered between strokes and low baritone moans.
“Ohh, Lyfe,” I panted. I was more in love with him at that moment than I’ve ever been. Our pants and moans blended together like a beautiful duet.
Soon after, he swept more kisses down the column of my neck while whispering, “I love you so much, Corona Mae. I’m yours forever. I’m here, baby. Tell me what you want—what you need.”
Hell, all I needed was for him to keep doing what he was doing.
I rolled my hips a third and then a fourth time. I was getting warmer and wetter with each stroke. It seemed like a whole new world was opening up to me and I was greedy to see and feel more. Is this how it always is with sex? Or am I feeling these things because I’m in love with Lyfe?
“Whoa … whoa … wait … wait … “ Lyfe gasped and then bit his lower lip. I could tell that it was just an attempt to regain control of his deteriorating willpower. Mercifully, I eased up and gave him all of fifteen seconds to try to regroup. As he opened his eyes, I was once again overwhelmed not only by the passion flickering in them but by the intensity of love that danced there as well.
With renewed confidence, Lyfe surged his hips forward and watched my expressions with fascination. His strokes were gentle, but he made sure that they grew longer and deeper.
“How does it feel, baby?” Lyfe asked. His lips stretched wide as he watched me struggle to answer. After a few more strokes, his cockiness evaporated and his toes curled tight. “Oh, God,” he groaned and then dropped his head against the crook of my neck where he breathed in my scent and lazily dusted more kisses across my collar bone and then down the valley between my breasts.
“Mmm. You smell and taste like honey and cinnamon.”
“Oh, Lyfe,” I moaned, digging my nails into the tender flesh of his muscled shoulders. “Please, don’t stop.”