“Fuck!” The movement of his tongue was destroying me as his fingers played across now slick nipples. “Oh my God. Keep doing that.”
His mouth was gone from my breasts, his hand released its iron grip on my arms.
“No,” I whimpered as he retrieved my shirt.
His eyes twinkled through the pout I weaponized at him as I shrugged into my shirt.
He’d denied me an orgasm and I was feeling mean about it. As we walked to the next stop, I hadn’t intentionally meant to hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him. But I was so angry and he was so poised. I hadn’t even been allowed an attempt at licking his chest. Illogically, that made me boil, despite the obvious outcome of uncontrollable laughter which would have doubled my anger.
“Am I an addiction?”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it.
“No,” he retorted, his eyes flashing sharply. “I stopped talking to you for six months. Cold turkey.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue.
“That hurts.”
“I didn’t much like it either,” he sighed. “I was trying to figure out if it was my fault, this thing with Maria.”
“Hey.” I took his hand, my voice low, leaning toward him. “You and I weren’t doing anything wrong. We were just friends. I can’t believe that bitch made you choose.”
“She didn’t. She didn’t even give me a choice.” The kind of guilt he would be carrying around had she forced that choice on him was unimaginable. Had she in misguided paranoia been trying to save him from that?
We walked in silence.
His eyes sparkled, but his words were hesitant. “Are you ready for this next stop?” he asked, his body straightening, a hint of a smile breaking through.
“Think there’s a chance I’ll finally drive you to fuck me?”
“Maybe. I do enjoy a good blow job.”
My attempts at burying the image of Maria’s mouth around him were not successful.
***
We rounded the corner, the partially sunken walls of the Vietnam Veterans memorial greeting us. The hour was late and I saw no movement around the monument. My fingers traced the engraved names in front of me and I wondered if the inscribed soldiers would have been offended at our visit. More guilt settled upon me.
Noting my hesitation, he lifted me up, depositing me on top of a chest high wall.
“You wondering if they would have been angry or cheering us on had they been here?” he asked, his fingers brushing across a name.
“I don’t know. Why does everything have to be so complicated all the time?” Shoulders slumping, I threw my hands up in the air.
“It’s hard when you care what people think.”
I nodded, hoping that maybe it was enough that I cared. I was here, thinking about these people who had fought so long ago. But tonight was for us.
Leaning back, my ass on the edge of the wall, I opened my legs to him. He only got two licks for this part of the game, I could take it.
He lowered his head, breathing deeply of me. He’d had his face practically in my pussy on other nights, but insecurity reigned as I considered how I must smell, aroused, wetness coating my thighs. He didn’t pull back, taking a second breath before opening my lips.
“You’re gorgeous.”
He looked directly into me, his admiring gaze and growing smile encouraging, if not a little grandiose. Not exposed enough for him, he softly eased apart my inner lips. The touch, so intimate; my muscles tensed at his intensity.
“Relax,” he commanded and placed a kiss on my inner thigh.
I was on a roller coaster, my stomach dropping as his tongue entered me. He delved deep, then licked broadly over my lips, my clit, before plunging back inside. I longed to squeeze my tits and throw my head back as his tongue advanced a second time, but it was over in a heartbeat. Blood rushed to my swelling clit, the cool night air a tease as I closed my legs.
Moments passed before I’d recovered enough to kneel before him, obscured by the wall. Pulling his sweats to his ankles, I watched a bead of precum form on the tip of his cock. Fascinated, I poked my tongue into it, letting it trail me as I pulled back. Here goes, I thought lifting his cock, licking from his balls to his head, a repeat of my bold dinner stroke. That’s one. The second stroke had to count. He panted as I eased my lips over him, my tongue playing in the ridge under his head. Sliding his cock into my mouth, my hands wrapped around the base of his shaft. Excruciatingly slowly, I withdrew.
As I stood up, he bent over against the wall, teeth gritted, muscles visibly straining, cock ramrod straight in front of him.
“Minute please.” Witnessing his struggle to get his body under control, a surge of accomplishment infused me. I had caused that torturous pleasure.
“One stop left,” I said, contentedly weary. We hadn’t been caught and the intimacy I had experienced was exhilarating.
“This is going to be the real challenge. Think we can nail this last one without screwing it?” he asked, pulling on his pants. I groaned.
“Dad joke?”
He just smiled.
***
The Washington monument stood erect, phallic to my mind, central to the city. It was after one in the morning and people continued to mill about the monument, but plenty of dark, secluded recesses presented themselves. He led me to a low wall, the lighting dim, the grass soft underfoot.
“There are bugs in that grass,” I said.
“It’s too dark to see them.” His lips pressed together, stifling suppressed laughter. “I can be on the bottom if you want; you can ride me.”
I nodded mutely, not sure of the mechanics of riding him without having sex, and nervous about being the one moving on top. Butterflies exploded in my gut and I forgot I was twenty-four. Teenage me looked up at him from somewhere in our past, scared of consequences, scared of impropriety, intimacy, and bugs.
“Are you ready?” he asked, taking my hands in his.
In response, I slipped out of my skirt and lifted my shirt over my head. Moonlight barely illuminated my naked body in the dark recesses of the alcove. He undressed and stepped in to me, kissing the top of my head as his muscular arms enveloped me. Letting my body acclimate to the heat of him surrounding me, I braced myself for the ride ahead.
He lay on the grass at my feet, hands behind his head, casual smile. His cock beckoned, enthusiastically rigid against his stomach. Awkwardly, I dropped to my knees astride him, hands on his chest. Reaching below me, I opened my lips, letting him settle against me. His hands migrated to my breasts and I felt the undeniable urge to move my hips.
“Oh my God, is this what it’s going to be like?” I murmured.
Knowing smile on his face, he settled into the grass. “Better.”
Lifting myself, I slid forward on him, enjoying the feel of his confined cock striving to sink up into me. Sliding back, I luxuriated in how slick he’d become with my arousal. Forward I moved again, every inch of him a song against my clit. He had begun to breathe hard and I wondered if he was capable of stopping me. I gyrated over him, teasing, sliding forward more and more.
My balance lost, I nearly fell forward onto him, his hands on my breasts keeping me from face planting as we laughed together. But that momentary loss of balance, my knees coming up a minuscule amount, was enough to give his cock the opening it needed to slip inside as I began sliding back on him.
I felt every bit of him enter me, the world slow motion, my cunt stretching as I sat back, impaled upon him. Time was such that I couldn’t stop the motion, as I sat lower and lower, as I took him into me. I had never seen his eyes as wide as they were at the moment my ass met his stomach and he was buried fully inside me.
“Oh. My. God. What do I do?” Trying to keep still on him, while feeling every twitch of his cock deep inside was torture.
Fear of movement was a solid presence. Did this count as sex? I sat still, the skittish animal that I was. With infinite tenderness, he lifted me off of his cock and set me down, a puddle of woman laying next to him. His arms were around me, solid and protective.
“It’s ok. It’s fine. It was an accident. It doesn’t count.” He stroked my hair as he recited his litany to me. I listened to his voice, a soft wave coming to me from the shore, so far away. My head against his chest, the tears flowed. Why was I crying? “Hey, hey. Really it’s going to be ok.”
“I’m ok,” I sniffled, trying to gate the flood pouring from my eyes. “I just,” I started unsuccessfully. “I’m sorry I ruined your game,” I sobbed into his chest.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” His encircling arms a strong persuasive assurance accompanying his words.
Despite the overloaded state of my brain and body, I knew we were lying naked on the national mall. A smattering of tentative, panic laced laughter stopped my ebbing flow of tears.
“Are we still on for next week?” I asked as we walked fully clothed back to the metro.
“Always.”
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