Outside the air is warm and the city seems full of energy.
“I’ve heard about your Fountain Square. Would you show it to me?”
“Of course, it’s this way.”
I lead him one block south. We skip up the steps to the square and it’s more crowded than a normal weekday night. There’s a band on the stage playing salsa. The musicians are decked out in those traditional colorful costumes of countries that all blend together to me—Ecuador, Guatemala, Chile. Wherever. There must be fourteen band members each swaying in unison and sweating as they seem to blast the night air.
No one is dancing. Typical Cincinnati. Most folks are milling about or sitting at the temporary plastic tables.
The band finishes their song and I hear a man address the crowd in Spanish. There’s a heavy drum beat that echoes off the building. A bass starts to thump a quick rhythm and what seems like twenty brass horns scream into the night.
I feel Ben look down at me. I look up.
He’s already walking to the empty space in front of the band.
“No, thanks,” I say. “No one else is.”
“I’m not wanting to dance with anyone else. I want to dance with you.”
I don’t say yes. He’s no longer asking. He’s pulling me in front of the band. Once past the amplifiers the music is louder. It’s almost painful.
Ben Sheppard takes me in his arms and we dance. It’s a not-too awkward dance. It’s a bit clumsy, and I give him credit for not doing the white-boy bottom lip bite. He’s looking me in the eye the entire time and I feel...I feel, what? I’m not sure, but it is a good time and I keep looking into his hazel eyes and soon we’re surrounded by people. Others are now dancing. There looks to be young couple and a few white haired senior citizens. A suburban mom is dancing with two little girls. I becomes a mass of people. I break eye contact with Ben and look to the plastic tables. They are mostly empty now.
Good job, Ben Sheppard.
We dance for two more songs when Ben raises his hands as in surrender and motions that he needs a drink. I nod okay and when the song stops he takes my hand and we start to make for a row of vendors on the other side of the square.
“Señor!, Señor!” I hear a man call out and Ben stops. I turn with him to the stage and the lead singer gives Ben a thumbs up and mouths what I take to be ‘gracias’. Ben gives a polite smile and wave and leads me over to a tent selling beer. We down our twelve ounces in a couple gulps.
The Genus of Water is a Cincinnati landmark that sits on Fountain Square. It’s a fountain paying homage to the value of water to this river city. We stroll over to it holding hands. A little girl of about five is walking around it playing a balancing act with herself. Ben smiles at her and she waves at him.
“Cute girl,” he says.
He steps in close and looks down at me. I look up at him. He lifts my chin with the tips of his index and middle finger and when my lips are at the perfect angle, he kisses me. It’s a soft, butterfly gentle kiss. His lips barely touch mine. I sense them more than feel them. He draws away and smiles then takes my hand.
“It’s been a nice night.”
Awwww. It sounds like the end of the night. I don’t want it to end, but I don’t want to argue. We both do have work in the morning.
“Yes. Very nice night.”
I squeeze his arm.
“Would you let me take you out again? Maybe this weekend?”
“Yes and yes,” I say.
He smiles at that. I like making him smile.
We walk back to Nada and the valet brings Ben’s beast of a truck around in short order and he drives me home. I feel safe in the truck. I’m starting to like that it’s so big and loud and noisy. When he drives it into my neighborhood, I imagine people flipping on their lights at the commotion we’re causing. When he cuts the engine in my driveway, the silence is huge. He helps me down from the truck cab and kisses me goodnight at the door.
“How long of a drive is it to Crittenden?” I ask.
“About an hour.”
“Need some coffee for the road?”
“I don’t need coffee, but I’d like to spend more time with you.”
“Well, come in anyway and have some coffee or I’ll worry about you getting sleepy behind the wheel.”
I lead him into the living room and ask him to have a seat. I notice how long his legs look stretched out in my living room.
“I need to make a stop then I’ll get to work on that coffee, all right.”
I head into the bathroom. I turn on the fan and use the toilet. Afterward, I look in the mirror. I’m sweaty. I use a guest towel to dab my face off. I notice my furrow. How does he not focus on that? It’s all I can focus on. I try to press it out. Nope. Not moving.
I’m starting to worry. Should I have invited him in? This isn’t going anywhere. I’m sending mixed signals, I know. Honestly, I just don’t want the night to end...and he does have a long drive ahead.
I flick off the light but leave on the fan as I open the bathroom door. I turn toward the living room, but Ben Sheppard is standing at the other end of the hall. There’s ten feet between us. I didn’t turn the hall light on. It’s dark. But even so, I can see that his hazel eyes have turned emerald green.
“Which one is your bedroom?”
I raise my hand slightly toward my bedroom door.
“Are you on the pill?”
I walk toward him, but before I take two steps his lips are on me. He’s pushing me back toward the bedroom. Toward the bed!
Oh, no. Not tonight. Definitely yes. Definitely soon. But not tonight. I’m not ready. But oh, god his mouth feels so good on mine. Ben’s hands seem to be lifting me off the floor. No. No, but yes. I’m pulling him to the bed as much as he’s pushing me. I land on the bed and bounce slightly. His mouth is back on mine. His tongue is light and quick in my mouth. My skin is tingling. I feel gooseflesh on every bit of my skin. I can’t seem to catch my breath.
No, I need to stop this. Someway, somehow. I don’t say a thing.
He moves his mouth off of mine and kisses my neck. His right hand snakes up to the right side of my face and pushes it to the left. The left side of my face is buried in the duvet. He’s devouring my neck and sending charges throughout my body.
I feel his frame move down the bed and he’s nuzzling my breasts through my turtleneck. I feel the bottom of it being slowly raised. I feel it cool air on my exposed belly and his tongue drifting and skipping across my abdomen. He places little kisses down the line of muscle on my left side then up the line of muscle on my right side.
Oh, god, yes. I think. No. Yes.
I know my dryness is going to be an issue. There’s a tube of lubricant in my nightstand. I think it’s in my nightstand. God, it’s five years old. Is it any good? I tense picturing this night crashing to a stop. I try to prop myself up to reach for the drawer handle. Ben holds me down.
He pulls off my shoes and lifts me up and takes down my jeans in two fluid motions. I look to the nightstand again.
“Ben, I need to get something.”
He looks up and shakes his head no. I feel his hand on my panties. There’s a rip. He’s torn them off and is burying his face in my hair. Oh, all that untrimmed hair, I think. He lifts his head just slightly.
“You smell wonderful,” he says. He buries his face in my hair again. I can feel his mouth just above my pussy. He stops and lifts his head up. “And you look just as good,” he says.
He places his hands on my inner thighs and parts my legs. His hands feel strong and hot on my flesh. He moves his hands underneath me to my ass and lifts me up slightly. I’m exposed and open to him. I feel his tongue—broad and strong—lick me from top to bottom as if my pussy was a sexy, hot popsicle. He does it over and over. Josh never did this. I give up reaching for the drawer. Maybe I won’t need the lube. Maybe his saliva will be enough lubrication. Maybe.
He keeps with the licking. It’s rhythmic. He lifts his head.
“You taste so good.”
For some reason this makes me smile like a fool. He puts his head down, but instead of the broad, wide licks he was giving me, I feel the tip of that muscular tongue enter me. He grips my ass tighter in both hands and moves me on and off his tongue. I feel myself part wider for him each time.
He slows this motion down. I feel his hands leave my ass. They are under my turtle neck and he pulls my bra down. He squeezes each of my nipples and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger. My ten fingers are buried in his hair gripping his mouth to my pussy.
I’m giving myself over to his tongue and driving the doubts out of my mind. This is so nice, I think. So nice. I should say that out loud. I should tell him how good he’s making me feel. I should tell him no man has ever done this so generously for me before. But I can’t make myself. Part of my mind is still thinking about the lube. I should still get it out, just in case, because I need him inside me now. Even if I didn’t, there’s no turning him back. He’s going to take me and it might hurt.
My god, he’s back to those broad licks. He’s making yummy noises like he’s eating the best chocolate cake ever. He’s really enjoying himself. The noises send a little vibration right to my clit and I feel a pressure building up inside me.
I tap him on the head.
“Ben, I need to get some...”
His left hand moves from my breast to my lips. He lays his index finger across them as if to shush me. His hand lowers. His hand is around my neck and he’s squeezing the tips of his fingers around the arteries on each side of my throat.
What’s this? No. What’s going on? I’m panicking.
I can still breath. He’s not closing off the air but things are going black.
I grab at his forearm. It’s so hard. I manage to say “no” and I pull at his arm trying to get it away from my throat.
He loosens his grip slightly but keeps his hand around my neck. He lifts his head up. He looks me in the eye.
“Trust me,” he says.
He says it softly in his rich voice. It’s a low growl. I feel the breath of those words breeze across my pussy. My pussy clenches and twitches and there’s a sensation I don’t recognize.
I decide to trust him. I stop pulling his forearm away and begin to pull it toward my neck. I feel the tips of his broad, strong fingers tighten again. He lowers his head and I feel the tip of his tongue, thick and hard, land on my clit. I realize what the sensation is—it’s my pussy flooding with wetness. The world darkens.
My world brightens. What is this? Ben’s tongue is still pressing my clit with unbelievable force. It’s moving slightly, almost vibrating. I’m bucking against him as he holds down my body with his left arm and right hand. I’m out of my mind. I’m out of body. Oh, god, I’m coming. Is this coming? I feel wave after wave rip through my body crashing right down to my pussy then rolling back up. They keep rolling over me, each building on the other.
When? How do these stop? I don’t know.
Ben’s left hand drifts away from my throat and to the bed. He uses it and his right to lift his body up. His chin is shiny with his saliva and my juices. I’m not able to think about this. All I feel is that it’s sexy and I want to lick it off him.
He pushes himself further up with his left arm and uses his right hand to unbuckle his belt. I hear the metal parts clink against each other then feel the leather against my leg. He pushes his pants down and I feel his cock lining up at the opening of my pussy.
Oh, god, is this going to hurt? Where’s the lube?
And he’s inside me. It doesn’t hurt. Ben’s face is buried in the pillow above my head. He’s breathing hard and rough and he’s plunging into me. First orgasm has passed and for the first time during sex I’m not thinking about dryness or my lack of orgasms or, as so often with Josh, what is on tomorrow’s to-do list. For the first time in my sexual life, I focus on a man’s cock sliding in and out of me, feeling the tip almost leave then plunge back in, parting my pussy, until I feel and even hear Ben Sheppard’s balls smack against my ass. Hearing that smack and knowing what it is...without warning the dam breaks again and I’m coming. It’s different this time. Fuller, riper. Better? Yes, maybe. I’m riding it, enjoying it. Who knows when this will happen again?
I feel Ben’s body go rigid. He lifts his shoulders up and stretches his head back so that he looks like he’s doing a cobra pose. I look at the strong line of his chin as it runs down his muscled neck then broadens into his shoulders and chest. There’s a delicate gold chain around it threaded through two rings. The jewelry is matted against his thick chest hair flecked with the same silver that’s on his temples. I bury my face into it then look back to him again.
He looks glorious as I continue to come.
He lets himself go and he fills me. I don’t care about coming anymore. I don’t care about anything. All I want at that moment more than anything else is every drop of him deep inside of me.