WOW, THAT WAS AMAZING,” I say, sprawled out on my back in Earl Grey’s bed.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve never had three orgasms in a row before just holding someone’s hand and sitting down on a bed. I can’t imagine what the actual sex is going to be like.”
“You don’t have to imagine,” I say.
“You’re right,” he says. He’s hovering over me again, but this time we’re both naked. I can feel his stick shift delectably pressing into my stomach. Kathleen would call him a “Trent Reznor,” since he has a nine-inch nail. (Don’t worry—I don’t get her references either.)
My nipples are hard, either from my heightened state of arousal or because it’s a little chilly in the Dorm Room of Doom.
“I want you so bad,” Earl says, “but I’m going to make you wait.”
“Haven’t we waited long enough?” I say.
“I’m going to kiss every part of your body,” he says. “Starting with your feet and working my way up . . .”
Quintuple crap.
“How about if you start a little higher, like at my knees maybe?” I say.
“Anna, there’s no need to be shy,” he says, backing himself down the bed toward the lower part of my body. He kneels at the foot of the bed and bends over my feet. “I love your scent, Anna,” he says, placing his nose an inch away from my toes and inhaling deeply. His eyes grow wide with surprise. “But, perhaps, I shall start with your knees. Good idea.”
He kisses my kneecaps, which is a little weird, because there aren’t many nerve endings there. Or the skin is too callused. I don’t know—like I ever look at my knees? When he moves his lips to the back of my knees, raising my legs slightly to accommodate his mouth, I let out a yelp. It tickles. Maybe kissing every single part of my body isn’t the way to get me ready for his meatsicle.
He moves on to kissing my quads, and before long I feel his lips on the insides of my thighs . . . Now we’re getting somewhere. When his mouth is a half-inch away from my lady parts, though, Earl Grey skips up to my belly. “Are you teasing me?” I say.
“Whatever do you mean, Miss Steal?” he says, flashing me that toothy grin and winking.
He continues his exploration of my body, finally reaching my bust. He flicks his tongue at one of my aching nipples to wet it, and then blows on it. Just when I think he’s done toying with it, he clamps his mouth down and begins sucking greedily. My nipples are now so hard they could cut diamonds. Earl looks up at me and smiles.
“Your lip!” I say. “It’s bleeding.”
He pats his lip and looks at his hand. Oh no . . . He cut his lip on my hardened point!
“I guess I won’t be going down on you today,” he says, sighing.
“Do you have AIDS or something?” I say.
“Not anymore,” he says.
“I give blood every three months,” I say. “I’ve never had sex. I’m pretty sure I’m clean.”
“I want to taste you, Anna, and I will. Another day, preferably after my lip is healed.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
Earl places one of his long fingers on my lips and I instinctively begin sucking it. He withdraws his finger and I watch him slowly approach my sex, hidden deep within my untamed thatch of pubic hair. His hand disappears into my pubes, and he searches for my love button.
Ah! Oh. He’s found it. This feels . . . good.
“Do you like that, Anna?” he says, running his finger over my most sensitive spot like it’s a MacBook trackpad.
“Yes, Mr. Grey,” I say.
“Is this how you pleasure yourself?”
I don’t. The blank look on my face says it all.
“You have climaxed before, haven’t you, Anna?”
I shake my head. “Never.”
“You’ve never even touched yourself?”
Again, I shake my head.
Earl sighs. “You’ve been missing out. If I had your gorgeous body, I would spend every day lying in bed, discovering myself. I would never leave the house.”
“That doesn’t sound healthy,” I say. I focus my attention on what Earl’s doing with his hand . . .
“You’re so wet,” he says, dipping a finger inside me.
Duh. I’ve been going through three pairs of panties a day since I met you, Earl Grey.
“Moan,” I moan. “Moan, moan, moooooooan.”
Just as I’m reaching the peak of my arousal, he withdraws his finger. “I’m going to assume you are not taking birth control pills,” Earl says.
I never expected to have sex, ever, so that’s a big “no.” I shake my head.
“It’s okay,” he says. He leans over to the nightstand and pulls a string of condom packets out. The packets are connected to form one long foil snake, which disappears over the edge of the bed. There have to be at least thirty condoms on it. How many condoms is he going to wear?
Earl tears one of the packets open and slides the condom onto his turgid python. “I’m surprised that fit,” I mutter. Did I say that out loud? What is this man doing to me?
He just laughs. “These condoms are tailored,” he says.
“So you went into a store somewhere and they measured you? And what—made them just for you?”
“The perks of being part of the .00001%, Anna,” he says.
Wow. Um, wow.
Earl Grey rises above me, towering over my naked, quivering woman-flesh. I can’t believe this is happening—it’s too much like a wet dream about Robert Pattinson to be real.
“Are you ready for my love gun?” he says.
Uh-oh. “What’s a love gun? Is that a sex toy?”
“No,” he says. “I’m talking about my penis.”
“Oh,” I say. “Then yes. Fire away.”
He positions himself between my legs. I pull my legs up, bent at the knees to expose my sex to him. He has a mischievous look on his face as he kneels and scoots toward me. He places the sheathed tip of his erection at the entrance to my garden of delights like a dart player lining up a shot. I close my eyes and prepare for the sexy time to begin . . .
. . . and Earl is gone. I hear him slip back off the bed and run off. What the hell?
I open my eyes and spot him. He’s in the library, about thirty yards away. He’s in a low crouch. Without warning, Earl begins jogging straight at me, picking up speed the closer he gets to the waterbed. By the time he reaches the entrance to the Dorm Room of Doom, he’s running at full speed. I close my eyes again and spread my legs wide to receive him. He slams his pink torpedo into me, followed by the rest of his body on top of me. My skull crashes into the headboard.
“Ow!” I yell.
He’s breathing heavy, and stops to catch his breath. “Was that an ‘ow’ for your head, or for your panini?”
“Both, I think,” I say, wincing.
“I told you I play hard,” he says.
I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I have no witty comeback for him. I think I have a concussion. He kisses me on the forehead. “You’re tight,” he says.
“I’m a virgin,” I say, before correcting myself: “I was a virgin.”
“Actually, you’re still a virgin,” Earl says, looking down at his point of entry. “I’m in the wrong hole.”
He pulls himself out and changes into a fresh condom. “Let’s try this again,” he says. I must have a look on my face like some poor girl on a blind date with Chris Brown, because he adds, “No acrobatics this time. We’ll take it easy.”
He kneels between my legs again and slides easily into me. This time, I’m sure he has the right hole because it doesn’t feel like I have to take a dump. “Now I’m going to move around,” he says, swiveling his hips slowly. Is he going to announce every action in bed?
It hurts, but yet it feels . . . good. The physical connection between our bodies strengthens the emotional connection we already have. “You want more?” he says.
“Yes,” I whimper, and he thrusts forward. He swings his hips to the side, then up, then down, like he’s trying to sign his name on the back wall of my carnal cave. Time slows down as Earl speeds up; I’m somewhere in a blissful land where nothing in my life matters anymore, where Earl Grey’s money and power are distant concerns. Right now, in this moment, we are just two people doing the eternal dance between man and woman. I quiver, and shake, and try to contain the pleasure coursing through my body. It’s no use—he’s driving me over the edge, into a world of ecstasy I didn’t know could exist. The only other time I’ve felt this good was when I shot smack with Kathleen.
“I want you to climax,” Earl says. No, he doesn’t just “say”—he commands me to climax. For him, I will. For him, I’ll do anything. The walls of my pink palace, responding to his voice, spasm around him. As waves of pleasure roll over my body, he screams my name and I feel his Mount Rainier erupt inside me.
He withdraws and falls onto his back on the waterbed. We both take a moment to catch our breath. After a few minutes, he turns to face me. “Are you hurt?” he asks.
I close my eyes. Hurt? Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s such a complicated question. Physically, my nether regions feel like they’ve been through World War III. I definitely don’t want to look at the white bed sheets with the lights on. But once I get past the physical pain of losing my virginity, all I can think about is how the act of joining our two bodies brought me closer to another person than I’d ever thought possible. And not just any other person, but Earl Grey. It’s like our mutual orgasm was a sign from the heavens that we were destined for each other, like our bodies are in sync at both a biological and cosmic level.
“I actually feel kind of great,” I say.
Earl doesn’t say anything.
“Earl?” I say, opening my eyes and looking at him. I guess there won’t be any Round Two this afternoon, because Earl Grey is sound asleep. I place my head on his chest, and soon I’m drifting off as well . . .