Yes, she says
I want to be the young girl, and I want you to be the strong man, he said. I want to feel like you are awakening me.
Am I more fatherly, or is this sexual? I ask him.
Not sure, he says. I want the protection, but I want to feel my body stir. I want to feel the surrender and the opening.
I do have a lot of the strong man in me. I’m very good at the protection, the tenderness. I know what a young woman needs when she is awakened, and I know how to give it to her. So I do. I give it to him/her.
My voice is soft but deep and firm. I invite her into my arms, holding her as we lie on the bed, she in jeans and shirtless, me in soft pants and top. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her hands, so she folds her arms up across her chest, curled up against me.
I tell her she is beautiful and precious, and that these feelings she is having are also beautiful and precious, and belong to her. They are part of the miracle that is her.
She moves, turns just a little, reaches her hand out to feel my arm, uncovers a little of her chest. I caress the shoulder, around the front to include her collar bones, ever so gently around the edges of her breast, down her sides, back up again, around to back again, around to breast again. Very slowly, very lightly. She sighs, and softens. I lightly cross her nipple, she moans out loud, surprise in her voice. Pleasant surprise. She didn’t know it would feel this good. She turns a little more to give us more room.
I ask if this feels good to her. Yes, she says. I tell her it feels good to me too. And then that I like the feel of her skin, and the shape of her back, the curves, this little hollow here, and that sweep there. I tell her that holding her and touching her this way arouses me (which is true) and ask her if she would like me to bring my arousal to my touch. I tell her she doesn’t have to want it. Sometimes she might want it and other times she might not. Yes, she says, I want it.
I let my hands become just a little more firm, pausing sometimes to reach deeply into flesh on her back or arm or shoulder. Never her breast. Always gentle there. Now she is breathing full and fast. She is opening more. She is falling in to herself.
I remind her again she is beautiful and precious, and that she can share that with whomever she chooses. That she never has to give it to anyone she doesn’t want to. To never let someone demand it. That it belongs to her.
I run my fingers around her waist, just under the edge of fabric, and ask if she’d like to take these off. Yes, she says, and I help. I stroke her legs, thighs, hips, slowly, and run my hand ever so softly over her now hard cock, ask if she would like to be touched here. Yes, she says, please. I ask if she’d like to take the next layer off. Yes, she says. So I slip my fingers in the elastic and slide them down and off her feet, dropping them on the floor.
Her scrotum is soft and warm, and melts in my hand. Her cock is smooth and tender, and quivers as she moans out loud. Her mouth is open, as is her heart and her cunt.
I want you to make love to me, she says.
That’s what I have been doing, I say. But I’ll be glad to do more of it, I say, and let my own heat rise, and lean over her, giving her a little of my weight, and a little of my hips and they push into her. I feel my own cock reaching for her, wanting inside her, finding its way home.
My hands become a little stronger now, a little more insistent, my mouth on her neck, her breasts – but I avoid her nipples – too predicable. No need to teach her that that is the only place to go. I want to awaken her whole body, not just the magic buttons.
Now I am on her, wrapped, pressing with hips, we are both moaning, both pushing and pulling, breath heated. I love having a cock. I love how it pulls me to her. I love the drive of it, the way it grounds me.
She is naked, I am still clothed, which feels perfect. My hips move faster, grinding, and she surrenders, her breath catches, we exchange an energy that is palpable but mysterious. Then we are quiet.
I hold her, caressing her hair, ask her if she would like me to kiss her face. Yes, she says. Tenderly, sweetly, I kiss her forehead, temples, cheeks, eyes. Her breath is warm. And soft again.
Wow, that was great, he says!