This story builds slowly, and acknowledges that sometimes there is more to developing intimacy between partners than just sex. But don’t worry. They do indeed “do the deed.”
“I suppose we really ought to get to bed,” I said, winking at Declan as I did. I was tired after our first “lesson,” but I was more than willing to offer some additional instruction before actually falling asleep if my student was up for it. I moved to gather up the remnants of the room service we had ordered, but Declan stopped me. “Let me,” he said, his Irish burr thickening with the lateness of the hour.
Good Lord, I thought. Handsome, hung, AND willing to help with the dishes? How on earth had he remained a virgin for so long?
And then I reminded myself: Aside from being a textbook nerd . . . with no confidence . . . so convinced he was unworthy of female attention that he hired an escort to finally lose his virginity after thirty-two years . . . and then decided he couldn’t go through with it? I smiled at the memory of how a chance meeting in a local pub had gotten me mixed up with Declan in the first place.
“Well, then let me turn my attention to these flowers,” I said, gesturing to the huge bouquet Declan had brought for me. At my request, the hotel had managed to scrounge up a vase for them, but they were still lying neglected on the table where I had set them shortly after Declan arrived. I had had other priorities at the time—mainly ensuring that he didn’t bolt back out the door, letting his nerves get the better of him.
He hadn’t bolted—obviously—and the resulting encounter had been memorable for both of us. As we lay together afterward, we agreed that I should continue to “tutor” him, for the rest of the weekend at least. I didn’t know whether our chemistry would extend past the walls of our hotel suite, but I didn’t want to think too far into the future. I just wanted to enjoy the time I had with my very willing and very able pupil.
“There,” I said as I finally arranged the flowers to my liking. Declan had wrangled the room service dishes outside to the corridor for collection and was watching me intently but with a renewed shyness. I moved toward him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and did my best impression of a seductress, “Shall we?”
“Erm, about that . . .” he began as he pulled back slightly from my embrace.
Uh oh, I thought. I’ve come on too strong and spooked him. I thought he was enjoying our little tryst as much as I was, but maybe he had been considering just how ludicrous our situation really was: a lonely, American, literature professor, schooling a geeky, Irish, math whiz in the art of love. My students would rightly laugh me out of the classroom if I assigned our story as part of their coursework.
“I mean, what we did was quare amazing and all,” Declan continued, “but . . .” he looked down, obviously unsure of how I would take what he was going to say next.
“But . . .” I prompted.
He sighed, yet gathered up the courage to persevere, “But, I’ve never just held someone as I’ve fallen asleep. I never even imagined I would ever find someone who would let me. And I think I might quite like that. To hold you, that is, warm and secure in my arms, as we both drift off to sleep.”
My surprise must have been apparent on my face—here I was offering myself up for any sexual fantasy he wanted to explore, and all this gentle, lovely man wanted to do was cuddle?—because Declan immediately began to backtrack, “Now that was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t it? Hold you? Any real man in his right mind would want to do more than just hold you. Christ, you’re so beautiful, and all I’ve done is cocked it up again.”
“Declan,” I said, reaching for him. Even after proving to be a more than capable lover by bringing me to orgasm earlier that evening, he was still so unsure of himself. Although I generally preferred space between myself and my bedmate, how could I refuse such a sweet request? “Declan . . . I think that sounds lovely, like the perfect ending to a perfect evening. I can’t think of anything better than falling asleep in your arms.”
“Really?” I could feel the tension leave his body, and he relaxed as his arms encircled me this time, and his mouth found mine in the gentlest of kisses.
“Really,” I confirmed, and I led him once again to the bed where just hours ago we had come to know each other so intimately. I shimmied out of the robe I was wearing and gestured for him to do the same. “Big spoon or little spoon?”
Declan looked at me quizzically for a moment before he comprehended, “Big spoon,” he said softly, loosening the tie on his robe. “Big spoon.”
I awoke the next morning to sunlight peeking through the inevitable gap in the curtains . . . and to Declan’s morning wood in the small of my back. It hadn’t taken long for us to find a comfortable position last night, and I was asleep, blissfully warm and cozy, in Declan’s arms almost as soon as we had. But I hadn’t expected we would remain entwined throughout the night. Finding myself still cradled in his arms was somehow even more intimate than the sex we had had the night before. I pushed my hips back gently, acknowledging his erection, and murmured, “Someone’s happy to see me this morning.”
My movement roused him, and he mumbled, “Hmm. What’s that?” before he fully woke and realized where he was. “Oh, God!” he said, drawing back from me, and though I didn’t turn around, I could hear the embarrassment in his voice. “You must think I’m a right fiend poking at you with my . . . my . . .”
“It’s okay, Declan,” I said, reaching my free hand back to stroke his thigh and bringing my other hand, still interlaced with his, to my mouth for a kiss. “I know men get hard in the morning.” I brought the hand on his thigh up between us in an awkward caress of his misbehaving member. “The question is, are we going to let this go to waste, or are we going to do something about it?”
“You want to . . .”
“Oh, God, yes. I wanted you last night. You’re not going to deny me again this morning,” I said teasingly.
“I’d be a fool to let that opportunity pass me by again,” he admitted, and he started to turn me toward him.
“Uh uh,” I said quickly. “You got to pick the position last time, seeing as it was your first time and all, but this time it’s ladies’ choice.”
“But . . .” he began to protest.
“No,” I insisted. “I want you to take me from behind.”
“Behind?” he repeated. “Like in your . . . ?”
I was instantly reminded again how little he knew. “Good Lord, no! That’s a bit advanced for a beginner, Declan. I mean I want you to penetrate me—the same way you did so well last night—just from behind this time. We’re in the perfect position after all.” I let go of his hand, and guided it down my body to my already yearning pussy. “Make me wet. Use your fingers to make me wet, Declan, and then make love to me.”
“Like this?” he asked as he tentatively ran a finger down one side of my folds then back up the other. I felt his cock strain against my back. Touching me was clearly bringing about a response in him as well.
“Mmm,” I affirmed. I reached down and pushed his hand toward my entrance, where I could already feel myself beginning to flow with desire. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
“Oh,” he breathed. “Should I . . . ?” he questioned, as his finger was already en route to my clit. I had no response but to moan as he found his target, and I pressed against him, desperate for more. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he chuckled, and he continued to knead that sensitive bit of flesh until I came hard against his hand, shuddering and doing all I could not to cry out loudly enough to alarm the neighboring rooms.
“Hmm. Maybe I should stop,” he teased. “My cock might be too much for you.”
“Don’t you dare.” As he stroked, he had maneuvered himself between my legs, and I could feel the head of his prick primed to enter me. “Please,” I begged.
“Well, since you asked nicely.” And with one swift thrust, he was deep inside, his substantial cock stretching me open, brushing exquisitely against the bundle of nerves already swollen by his attention to my pussy.
As if by instinct, one of Declan’s hands returned to my clit while the other fondled my breasts, gently caressing one moment, pinching and rolling my nipples between his fingers the next. As he thrust, I felt another climax begin to build, and as Declan drew close, so did I.
“I can’t hold off any longer.” His voice was strained, his breath ragged. I wanted to tell him to come, but I couldn’t find the words. As my own release overwhelmed me, I contracted around his pulsing cock. Almost immediately, I felt myself being filled by the shuddering bursts of Declan’s orgasm.
He remained inside me, softening but still comfortingly present, as he tickled my ear, “Was that all right?” I found I was still unable to answer.
“Huh. Look at that.” There was amusement in his voice. “The English professor is at a loss for words.”
“Top marks,” I finally managed to say, and he laughed.
He leaned across me awkwardly to deliver a kiss, then withdrew and turned me toward him saying, “Enough of your rules. I want to see you.”
I didn’t protest. I wanted to see him too. “Should we order room service again?” I asked. “You must have worked up an appetite.”
“Umm,” he acknowledged, “but not for food.” The gleam in his eye was back. “I’ve a mind to find out how you taste.”
Copyright GWinterbourne 2020.