Falling Under (Falling 3)

She abruptly remembers that she too has hands, and that I’m still mostly clothed. Her fingers fumble at my belly, finding the partly open fly, and she lowers the zipper the rest of the way. I struggle with my boots, toe them off, and then she’s pulling down on my pants while trying to keep upright with her tits in my face. She wants to be everywhere at once. I do, too. I want to strip her jeans off and see the rest of her, caress the marvelous glory that is her ass. But I’m not there yet. I’m still paying homage to the perfection of her tits, kissing and holding and fondling and lifting and running my tongue all over her flesh.

Somehow we get my jeans down around my hips and I’m kicking them off, and Kylie is moaning softly, gripping my thighs and staring up at me, sliding her palm across my belly and inching lower. This is going so fast, and I want to slow it down, I want to enjoy her, I want to make her feel everything, give her every ounce of pleasure I can, for as long as I can.

“Kylie…god, you taste so good.” I whisper this to the space between her tits, cupping both of them. “I could spend hours here, just kissing your tits.”

“I wouldn’t complain.”

“But there’s more. I want to see more of you. Kiss more of you.” I lean into her, wrap my arms around her and twist, taking her to the mattress. “I want to kiss you everywhere and never, ever stop.” I don’t know this me; I don’t know who this is saying such things.

It’s the kind of thing she deserves to hear, the kind of thing I’d never thought I’d hear myself say, but yet my lips let the words tumble out, and I wonder who I’m becoming, here in this room with Kylie. I like him, this guy she brings out of me. I like the tenderness her sweet naked skin elicits in me. I’ve never been like this, never felt such intense emotions. Emotions I don’t want to burn away.

Now she’s spread out beneath me, her hair a fiery halo on my pillow, her eyes twin azure novae blazing and burning and piercing me with such innocent trust and not-so-innocent hunger and oh-so-seductive desire. I open the button of her jeans, keeping my eyes on her, watching for any slightest sign of demurral or refusal. There is none. Only willingness to help. She lifts her hips and lets me pull the skin-tight denim past her thighs, and her tongue runs over her lips, her eyes going wider than ever as her jeans join the pile of clothing beside my bed. God, she’s beyond perfect. Black panties to match her bra, a tiny scrap of lace and silk.

“God, Kylie. How am I supposed to breathe when you’re so beautiful?” I run my hands down her sides and over her hips, the generous curves so soft beneath my palms.

“Don’t have—don’t have to breathe,” she gasps. “I’ll breathe for us both.”

She clutches at my neck and pulls me down, and our mouths slam together, teeth clashing and tongues tangling, and her hands carve over my taut shoulders and down my back and I’m gone, lost, abandoned to the way she touches me, the way no one has ever touched me before. Her palms arc over my hard hips, and now she’s catching at the waistband of my boxers with hooked fingers. I choke on my own nerves, on my own desire to feel her touch me all over. Our breath is lost, drowned, halted. I pull away from the kiss and see her open eyes slipping down my chest, looking up at me briefly, then raking back down. She watches her fingers run around the elastic to stop an inch on either side of my navel. Her knuckles are against my skin, and I’m throbbing, aching. Her eyes meet mine again and I nod, knowing she’s asking, as I did. Her teeth catch her lower lip, bite down so the plump flesh turns white. I’m frozen in place, a statue, waiting for her. She takes a deep breath, and her chest swells. I feel the elastic move, and she’s pulling my boxers away from my waist, tugging them down. My heart pounds, and I’m truly nervous, afraid for this in a way I wasn’t my first time.

Shitshitshit. I’m exposed now, hard and thick and throbbing and aching and bare to her sight. I watch her eyes go round, flick up to mine and back down. I don’t move, don’t breathe. I want to know what she’s thinking, but words are completely impossible. My boxers are around my knees, so I lift up and kick them away, totally naked now. Never has nudity been so vulnerable. She sees the real me, all the way down into my soul, and I feel like all my flaws are on display. But her expression is one of wonder and surprise and a little hint of nerves.

“Holy shit.” She looks into my eyes, and I see that she’s unsure what to say. “I—you’re beautiful, Oz.” She blushes, and her eyes go back down to my cock. “Really beautiful.”

“Say anything, Kylie. Say everything. Embarrassing, crazy, weird, say it all.” I know there’s more inside her, things she’s not sure she should say.

“It’s bigger than I expected. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, and…videos. But you…here, real…it’s different.” Her eyes flick up to mine. “I’m going to touch you.”

“Okay.”

I’m on my hands and knees above her, and I watch her hand splay against the trail of hair at my navel, follow it down, and then she’s grasping me in her fist, her eyes wide and her lips parted slightly. Her hand is small and soft and pale against my skin, and she’s just holding me, her eyes going from my face to my cock. Then her fist slides down, and back up, and I’m the one shaking, trembling.

“God, Kylie. You don’t know how good that feels.”

She smiles at me. “I like the way you feel. Soft, but hard. Your skin is…hot. And you’re hot. All over.”

I have to remember to breathe. “You’d better stop, or this’ll be over all too soon.”

She just grins. “I wouldn’t care. I could just touch you. Feel you touch me. Kiss me. Hold me.”

But I’m not quite ready to embarrass myself that way, so I pull away, out of her grip, and grit my teeth, clamping down with all my strength. And then I lower my face to her flesh, kiss her ribs, down her side, to the elastic of her panties. Curl my fingers in the waistband and kiss her navel below it, going farther. She’s panting, making little sounds in her throat, and I want those tiny noises, want to hear them louder, so I peel her panties down around her hips, baring the upper swell of her cleft. As I touch her, she reaches out and takes my ponytail in her hand, slides the band off and shakes my hair loose. I feel even more naked with my hair down, for some reason. She runs her fingers through my hair, and again I’m rocked senseless by the gentle power of her touch. I nudge my face into her hand, kiss her palm, and then return my attention to her body. Her underwear is partly off, so I draw it down past her thighs, and she squeezes her legs together, eyes closing, nerves rampant in every tense line and curve of her body.