I lay in the darkness of my bedroom, waiting. It was almost midnight, and the quiet all around me seemed to faintly hum. Or maybe it was the throbbing of my own heartbeat that I heard.
Just as Grady had requested, I rested on my back, with the bedspread beneath me. It wouldn’t do to hide under the covers. The summer night was warm, yet I shivered with anticipation. I wore a sheer black bra but had forgone the matching panties, also for Grady’s benefit. My dark, wavy hair fell past my shoulders.
My apartment was small; the front door, which I’d left unlocked, opened onto a living room. From there, Grady would need only to walk through a tiny kitchen area to reach my bedroom doorway. A small lamp in the living room would provide illumination for him while leaving my bedroom in deep shadow.
He would be arriving any minute now. Swallowing hard, I clasped my hands together on my stomach. Was I crazy for doing this? I wondered. Crazy for trusting him?
He and I had met a couple of months ago, at a mutual friend’s wedding. I had no plus one to accompany me to the event, as my boyfriend was traveling for work. Since Grady was single, we were placed next to each other at what he jokingly called “the lonely hearts table.”
We quickly hit it off, and he even convinced me to dance with him. Throughout the day, he remained the perfect gentleman, and when we said goodbye, he gave me a warm hug. “It was lovely to meet you, Fern,” he said.
Long after we parted, I kept thinking about him, even when I was with my boyfriend. It wasn’t attraction that prompted me to seek him out on social media. At least, that’s what I told myself. I was merely curious to learn more about the man.
Like me, he was thirty, and also like me, he worked an office job that left him disillusioned. I found myself gazing at his profile photo longer than I should have. He had dark curls and a wry smile. His hazel eyes were intense. I wondered why he was single.
He quickly followed me back on our socials, and from that moment on, we messaged each other daily. I loved that I could tell him about a fantastic book I was reading, or about some dark, edgy film I’d watched. My boyfriend was more into outdoor activities when he wasn’t consumed by his job.
Just last night, which happened to be a Friday, Grady asked if he could call me. Even via text, he must have sensed I was feeling low. As soon as I heard his voice asking if I was okay, I blurted out that my boyfriend had again cancelled our dinner plans because he was working late. I didn’t admit how much time I’d taken to get ready for the date, and that I was still wearing my new dress.
“I’m sorry,” Grady said quietly.
My lower lip quivered as I paced from my living room to the bedroom. It took just a few seconds to cover that distance.
“Relationships are tough,” he went on. “I guess that’s why I tend to avoid them. Too much compromise, not enough fulfillment.”
“Wow, you sound jaded,” I teased.
“Ah, you could say I’ve been burned a time or two. But aside from your boyfriend being a workaholic, do you feel like you’re compatible with him?”
I sank into a comfortable chair by the living room window. “Um, I guess?” I squirmed, as if Grady was right there watching my reaction to his question.
“You don’t sound so sure about that, Fern.”
Later, I would tell myself it was the wine I was drinking that made me so open with Grady that night. But I secretly knew that wasn’t the real reason I said, “Well, our hobbies are different. And the sex is… okay.”
“Ouch. Just okay?”
My face grew hot, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “He’s not a huge fan of oral,” I worked up the nerve to reveal. “I mean, he likes receiving. Just not giving.”
Grady made a sound of mild disapproval. “Have you talked to him about it?”
“A couple of times. He says he just doesn’t like doing it. He’s given me a bit of a complex, honestly. I can’t help but wonder if it’s something about me specifically that he doesn’t like.” Feeling I’d confessed too much, I gulped down the rest of my Merlot.
“It’s his loss,” Grady said. “Some men are weirdly squeamish about eating pussy. I’ll admit I’m not the best at relationships, but I do love going down on a woman.”
His words started an insistent pulsing between my legs that I chalked up to my clit being so deprived of a man’s attention.
“In fact,” he went on, “I have a certain fantasy about it… but I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Tell me!” I insisted with a giggle.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and seductive. “In this fantasy, I enter a woman’s bedroom—“
“Which woman?”
“Her identity varies. Sometimes she’s someone I’ve met in a shop, and sometimes she’s a friend.” He made the word friend sound illicit. “But I enter her room late at night. She’s expecting me, because we’ve arranged this beforehand. Neither of us speak. She’s lying on her bed, naked from the waist down. I join her, bury my face between her thighs, and do my best to give her multiple orgasms while eating her pussy.”
My own pussy tingled in response. I had to resist the urge to touch myself. “And then what?”
His faint moan made me wonder if he’d had the same urge but was choosing to indulge it. “And then, when she’s fully satisfied, I quietly see myself out.”
I furrowed my brow. “That’s it? You don’t do anything else, or expect anything in return?”
“No. My pleasure comes from pleasing her. Sometimes, I imagine a row of women before me, and I go down the line, devouring each pussy until my tongue is too tired to continue.” The softest sigh carried to me through the phone. “So now you know what turns me on the most.”
“Mmm, it’s turned me on hearing about it,” I confessed.
“Are you wet?” he murmured.
Now I was the one moaning. “Very.”
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said in that low, sexy voice, “I’d love to taste you, Fern.”
My hand lingered on my thigh, though I ached to reach beneath my dress and play with my pussy. “I could leave the door unlocked for you,” I told him, sounding a little breathless.
We agreed to fulfill his fantasy, which had also become my fantasy, tonight. My boyfriend had wanted me to spend the evening with him, but I told him I had other plans. Though I sensed his confusion at being turned down, I didn’t offer up some excuse as to why I was leaving him on his own on a Saturday night.
My thoughts were drawn back to the present when I heard my front door softly open and then close. My breath caught in my chest, and I struggled to suppress a surge of anxiety. What if I didn’t enjoy this? What if he didn’t?
Grady’s silhouette appeared in my bedroom doorway, and I had to bite my lip to stay quiet. I watched, wide-eyed, as he pulled his shirt over his head, then dropped it to the floor. Seconds later, he’d stripped out of his pants. He didn’t have on underwear. Even in the low light, I could discern the outline of his erection.
Having taken off his shoes upon entering my apartment, he padded barefoot toward me, his steps almost soundless on the carpet. I froze when he climbed on the bed.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Grady surprised me by sitting between my spread legs and stroking my thighs. His hands were gentle and warm. In the semidarkness, we couldn’t clearly see each other’s faces. Maybe that was easier for us both.
Eventually, I relaxed beneath his touch. He seemed to sense my tension fading, for he settled on his stomach, his face so close to my pussy that I felt a hint of his breath.
Grady took his time sliding his tongue along my inner thighs. Since I’d already gotten plenty wet before his arrival, I figured remnants of my juices lingered on my skin. As his mouth inched closer to my sex, I tried not to tense up again. Yet I worried that he might not like my smell, or my taste.
I was shaved completely smooth, without so much as a landing strip, because that was what my boyfriend preferred. Grady now teased my outer labia, spreading them farther apart with the tip of his tongue. I gasped at that first contact. Immediately afterward, I was rewarded with the feel of him licking me from my entrance to my clit.
He let out a groan of utter satisfaction, sounding like a man having the first bite of his favorite meal. With his fingers, he held my fleshy folds open, going so far as to suckle my inner labia.
My body quickly responded to his attention; I felt myself growing even wetter. Grady nuzzled my skin, getting my fluids on his face. He used a fingertip to explore the contours of my clitoris. I knew from watching porn that my clit was on the larger side. I’d once curiously studied it, with a mirror positioned between my legs. I’d been surprised at how swollen it became when stimulated. Many other women had a delicate little pearl for a clit. Mine was definitely more of a nub.
And Grady clearly loved it. Yet he didn’t go straight to licking, like numerous lovers in my past had. Instead, he continued teasing, merely circling my clit with his tongue.
In the shadows, I clutched at the bedspread as my lust heightened by the second. All the while, I felt Grady’s breath against my slick skin. Finally, he took my needy clit ever so gently between his forefinger and thumb. Using the slightest pressure, he massaged that tender bud.
“Ooh,” I sighed, arching my back a little. That felt so damn good! I loved the way he was making a plaything of my clit, amusing himself by ratcheting up my arousal. I was close to begging for more; already, I was desperate to come.
I practically levitated off the bed when he started licking my clitoris. My fingers found their way into his hair, and his fingers found their way into my pussy.
“Yes!” I cried. Unable to control myself, I started moving my hips. He readily let me grind my pussy against his mouth, and as he continued his oral pleasuring, his fingers worked their magic inside my cunt. How did he so expertly home in on my G-spot? Just how many pussies had this man enjoyed?
Those caresses from his fingers, combined with his skilled tongue, made me come in record time. He kept up his licking even as my thighs quaked around him. I had to cup a hand over my mouth to muffle a wail.
Even after lifting his head, Grady kept his fingers buried in my pussy. Slowly, he thrust them in and out, and I could hear just how wet I was. It felt like all the nerve endings in my body had migrated to my clit. The simple act of him blowing on it sent a fierce jolt through me.
But oh fuck, I had no idea what was in store! Not until he wrapped his lips around my clitoris and began tenderly sucking it.
“Oh, my God, please!” I begged.
As Grady worked his tongue against my clit, his left hand slid up to squeeze my breast. By this point, I was violently trembling. The fingers of his right hand moved faster inside me.
In just moments, I came hard against his face, and around his fingers. He moaned, the sound full of lust and triumph. My clit was so sensitive that I felt the reverberation through my flesh while it was held between his lips. It soon grew too intense. “I can’t!” I whimpered.
Though Grady showed my clit mercy, he returned to licking the rest of my pussy. When he withdrew his fingers from my cunt, I heard him lick and suck the juice from his skin.
But he still wasn’t finished. No, he delighted in kissing and stroking my thighs, giving my clit just enough time to recover and not become desensitized. Then, a few minutes later, he resumed his fervent suckling. My thighs clamped around him, and I writhed until he had to hold me in a firm grip.
“Fuck!” I squealed. The sensation was exquisite, yet part of me never wanted it to stop. And Grady? He seemed like he could do this for hours.
My body surrendered to yet another orgasm with a shudder so powerful that it drew a low laugh from his throat. Lifting his head, he waited until my shivering subsided before saying, “I’d gladly keep going, but I think you’ve had enough.”
Resting a hand on my heaving chest, I giggled in elation. When Grady slowly sat up, I reached for him. Though I was completely sated, I would have welcomed his hard cock inside me at that moment.
I didn’t have a chance to ask if he wanted to stay, for he merely planted a kiss on my palm before climbing from the bed. Of course, I was aware that his fantasy involved pleasing a woman and then leaving soon afterward, but I still couldn’t believe he would simply pull on his clothes and see himself out.
Once dressed, Grady approached the bed again. My heart started racing from the wild expectation of a fuck. Had he changed his mind?
Apparently not. Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. As I took a deep breath, I caught the smell of my sex clinging to him.
“I’m heading home,” he whispered, “where I’ll stroke my cock and come so fucking hard with the taste of your pussy still on my tongue.”
Propping myself up, I watched him leave. Through the shadows, I could see that he was still plenty aroused.
Moments later, I heard my front door open and close as he slipped out.
***
I called him the following afternoon. “I really enjoyed last night,” I said once he’d greeted me in that soft, warm voice I loved.
“Me too, Fern,” he murmured.
Nervously twisting a strand of hair around my finger, I told him, “I hope we can do it again soon. Actually, I hope we can do a lot more.”
Grady was quiet a few seconds before asking, “What about your boyfriend?”
“I broke up with him this morning.” I thought back to the text I’d sent, ending our relationship in a few curt sentences. Then I’d blocked my ex-boyfriend’s number. “That relationship was mostly one-sided,” I went on. “I’m looking for something more… fulfilling.”
“Well, in that case…” Grady’s voice took on the seductive tone that made me cream my panties. “How about tonight? Same time, same place?”
I didn’t even try to keep the grin from my own voice as I replied, “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”
