How He Left Me Speechless That Afternoon at Home

I was focused in front of the screen when I heard his footsteps in the hallway. I’d spent more than two hours trying to finish an article that just wouldn’t come together. The cursor blinked with that mute patience cursors have when you’ve been staring too long without typing.

—Want a quickie? —he asked from the doorway.

He didn’t raise his voice. He never does when he asks this. He said it the way someone asks if you want more coffee, with that naturalness that only exists in couples who have been together a long time. I love that about him.

—Okay —I answered without turning around.

—I’m going to shower first.

I heard the water running while I saved the document. I didn’t get out of the chair right away. I stayed there for a moment with my hands on the keyboard, thinking about what was coming, and that alone was enough to make something stir in my belly.

When he came out of the bathroom, the room smelled like him. That soap of his, that particular heat his freshly showered skin gives off. His hair was damp and he had a towel wrapped around his waist, and he was looking at me from the doorway in the same way he always has: as if it were the first time.

—Ready? —he asked.

—Not yet. Let me change.

I stood up and kissed him slowly on the mouth before saying anything else. A brief kiss, an appetizer, the kind that already announces what’s coming.

—Do you want me to put something special on?

—Yes —he said—. The stockings with the garter belt.

—The black ones with the lace at the thigh?

—Those.

—And the thong too?

—Yes.

—Then I’ll take off my bra and put on the silk robe —I told him with a flirtatious smile, and went into the bathroom.

I undressed slowly. I took off my sweater, then my T-shirt, then my pants. I removed the burgundy lingerie set I was wearing and left it folded on the edge of the tub. When I put on the sheer silk robe that reaches halfway down my thigh, my nipples hardened against the fabric almost immediately. I pulled up the black thong, the one with the tiny bow at the back, which has always been one of his favorites. Then the stockings, one by one, carefully adjusting the lace garter around my right thigh, then the left.

I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment. Not out of vanity. To see what he was going to see.

I came out into the bedroom.

He’d left a pillow on the floor beside the bed, and he was sitting on the edge of the mattress waiting for me. That image —him there, watching me come in— always does the same thing to me: a mix of power and surrender I don’t quite know how to name. I approached slowly. Not because I wanted to play hard to get. But because I like that moment before, that second before touch happens.

I knelt on the pillow.

Before I could do anything, he leaned toward me. His hands found my skin, warm as always, those hands that know exactly where to go. He kissed my forehead first, then sought out my mouth. His tongue entered slowly, unhurried, while his fingers pulled down the neckline of the robe and freed one of my breasts. He cupped it in his palm and pinched the nipple gently. I moaned against his mouth.

Then the other one. Always the other one too.

His mouth left mine and moved downward. His lips enclosed my nipple and sucked with just the right pressure, not too hard, not too soft. That pressure that makes pleasure concentrate in one point and radiate from there through the whole body. One of his hands slid down my abdomen, slipped fingers under the thong, and found my clit.

He had me on my knees, legs open, hands gripping his shoulders, him sucking my breasts and rubbing my sex until I felt myself melting. The arousal built fast. It’s always like that with me when he starts that way.

—Let me suck it —I asked him. My voice came out rougher than I expected—. Put it in my mouth.

He stood up. He took his clothes off with that calm of his that sometimes drives me crazy, and when I had him in front of me, hard and close, I took him into my mouth without any ceremony. I wanted all of him, I wanted him now, I wanted him against the back of my throat.

My hands on his thighs, then on his ass, pressing him toward me. I love him like that: on my knees, him standing in front of me, feeling him slide between my lips. The saliva coating him. His hand coming down and tangling in my hair without pulling, just resting there, following the motion.

—I want you to finish in my mouth today —I told him, pulling back for a moment—. I want to feel it and swallow it all.

—First I want to fuck you for a while —he answered—. Get up on top.

He lay back on the bed. I straddled him, moved my thong aside with my fingers, positioned him at my entrance and sat down very slowly. That feeling of fullness when he goes in, always so intense, always just as new. His mouth returned to my breasts while I started moving on him.

He held me by the hips. I rocked my body over him, my hands braced on his chest, looking him in the face. There’s something about face-to-face sex with someone you know well that has a different kind of intimacy from anything else. It’s not just the body. It’s that they see you, and you see him, and both of you know exactly what you’re doing and why.

He kissed me hard when he wasn’t sucking my nipples. He grabbed my ass firmly and pushed upward, burying himself deep. When he took the vibrator from the nightstand drawer and slid it under my thong, over my clit, I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer.

The vibrator pressed just right. The movement of my hips kept it in place. Every time I moved, the pleasure climbed another level. I moved faster.

—You’re going to make me come.

—I want to see you —he said—. I love it when you come.

The orgasm hit from the inside, strong and expansive, and when it reached its peak I couldn’t move. I clung to him, buried my face in his neck, and he kept moving for both of us. He left me completely emptied out, trembling, holding on to him so I wouldn’t fall.

***

When I could speak again, I repeated what I’d asked for before.

—I want you to finish me in my mouth today. I want to swallow it all.

—Suck me for a while —he said—. But first I want to fuck you from behind.

I got off him. The evidence of my own orgasm was pooling at the base of his cock, and when I took him into my mouth again, I tasted him and myself mixed together. There’s something about that I don’t know how to describe without sounding exaggerated, so I won’t try. I’ll just say I got aroused all over again immediately.

—Now on all fours —he said.

I sucked him once more, slowly, and then got into position. Knees at the edge of the mattress, arms stretched out on the bed, ass in the air. Completely surrendered.

I felt his hand slide up and down over my sex before he entered me. The head of his cock parted my folds and went in with one smooth thrust. I closed my eyes and exhaled.

—God, that feels so good! —escaped my lips before I could control it.

He took me slowly at first. Going in and out with a slowness that was almost cruel, letting me feel every movement, not hurrying. Then he stopped moving.

—Move yourself —he said.

I pushed my ass back. I impaled myself on him once, then again, then again. My ass slapped against his body in the rhythm I was setting myself. When he grabbed my hips and thrust forward just as I pushed back, the impact was deep, so deep I had to smother my moans against the mattress.

—I’m going to fill your mouth with everything —he said—. And you’re going to swallow it.

—Yes —I answered—. Yes, yes, do it.

He pulled out of me and I turned toward him. He grabbed my hair, not hard, just enough to keep my face where he wanted it. I opened my mouth. I watched him stroking himself with his hand. I saw that contraction I know so well, and then I felt his hot, thick semen spill onto my tongue. Once, twice, more. He guided it into my mouth to empty himself completely, and I held it there, not swallowing, savoring him.

I parted my lips and showed it to him. I’ve always loved that moment. Not exactly for the kink of it, but for what it has of trust, of shared intimacy. The proof of what had just happened between us, in my mouth, visible.

I swallowed slowly.

—I love it —I said—. It turns me on so much to swallow you like that.

—You turn me on too —he replied, and stroked my hair.

I sat beside him on the edge of the bed. We were both silent for a moment, that comfortable silence that only exists afterward.

***

I went back to my desk just as I had been: in the silk robe, the stockings, the thong. His taste still in my mouth. The article was still open on the screen, with the cursor blinking in exactly the same place where I’d left it, as if nothing had happened.

I didn’t finish it.

Instead I wrote this. I wrote it in one go, without thinking too much, without correcting it, without rereading it. When I was done, I copied it and sent it to him by email. I don’t know exactly why. I suppose there are experiences that only fully exist when they become words, and this one needed to exist outside me.

After that I changed. I took off the robe, put my bra back on, the T-shirt, the pants. I left the thong on. I went downstairs and made myself a coffee, which I drank standing by the window, still with that after-feeling floating through my body.

When I went back up to the bedroom, he was standing there with the phone in his hand. I guessed he’d just read what I’d sent him. He came up to me without saying anything. His chest pressed against my breasts through our clothes, his hands found my waist, and his mouth sought mine in a kiss that started out calm and didn’t take long to become something else.

—Get on all fours again —he said against my lips.

I only took off my pants.

I got onto the mattress on all fours. I felt his open hand on my ass, squeezing it with that possessive hunger I know. He stood beside my face and when I saw him hard again, something inside me tightened in anticipation. I took him into my mouth before he even asked. I was as hungry for him as the first time, maybe more.

—Touch yourself while you suck me —he said.

I slid my hand between my legs. I was wet. Obviously I was wet. My fingers found my clit and I rubbed it slowly while I kept going with my mouth. Then I heard the familiar buzz. He took out the vibrator and slipped it under my thong, resting it on my clit with that precision that no longer surprises me but I always appreciate.

With that stimulation on top of everything else, I sucked him with even more desperation. My hips moved on their own. I was writhing on the mattress, completely possessed by what I was feeling.

Without warning he pulled out of my mouth and positioned himself behind me. He shoved my thong aside and entered in one stroke.

—Oh yes! Like that! —I couldn’t hold back the muffled cry.

I stayed still and buried myself in him on my own, pushing my ass back, again and again and again. His hands on my hips, his thrusts meeting mine. The vibrator was still in place and the orgasm came without warning, without giving me time to prepare for its intensity.

I didn’t turn it off. I left it there while the orgasm turned into another and that one into yet another. My body was shaking. I gripped the mattress with my fingers. I lost count of how many there were.

I turned the vibrator off when I couldn’t take it anymore. The hypersensitivity made me shudder with every centimeter he moved inside me. I could feel the exact shape of his head as he slid in and out.

—Fill me —I said, and it was more of a plea than anything else—. I want to feel it inside.

I felt his orgasm before I heard it. That familiar contraction I know so well. He buried himself to the hilt and emptied into me. I stayed completely still, taking it all in, feeling the heat.

After that I picked up my pants from the floor.

—Now you’re really leaving me soaked —I told him as I fastened the button, with a smile I couldn’t control.

—You said this time I’d leave you clean because I came in your mouth. I couldn’t leave it like that.

I went down the stairs with that smile I still couldn’t quite lose. I knew that at some point during the day, maybe while walking back to my desk, I’d feel his heat sliding through me, that warm reminder that would stay with me for the rest of the afternoon.

I sat back down in front of the screen. The article was still unfinished. The cursor was still blinking in the same place.

I closed it and opened a new document.