Vice, Virtue & Video, page 7
“Fuck! Oh yes, baby. You’re gonna make me come,” he pants, his breath hot against my chest.
I feel his whole body grow rigid as his muscles tighten right before his release. He bites down on my nipple so hard that I yelp as he pours out onto my stomach. I squirm a little. I feel so porn-ish right now.
I don’t have much time to think about it, though, because his fingers cup me between my thighs and he starts rigorously rubbing me. Before I’m prepared for it, he slides a finger inside me and starts rapidly wiggling it around.
“Mmm, you’re so tight, baby,” he whispers as he nibbles my earlobe.
He thrusts another finger into me and I feel myself stretching around him. I squirm as my body adjusts.
The last guy who had his fingers inside me was James and it felt a lot better than it does right now. James was gentle and he did it with finesse, waiting until I was fully warmed up and ready before he went in. That was during the weekend when he gave me my first orgasm, which still holds the title of being my most intense experience to this day.
“You like the way my fingers fuck you?” Eric breathes salaciously as I try to relax my muscles to ease his entry.
I moan in response, mostly because he slowed down a little while he asked me. That tenderness is sort lived and he speeds up again and pushes really deep inside me.
“Ah, careful,” I wince. Nobody has ever been this far into me before and I’m not loving the stretch that I’m feeling.
“Sorry,” he whispers in my ear, moving his fingers back a little.
I moan when he hits me in just the right spot and he pushes hard against it, wiggling his fingers as fast as he can. He’s so eager, so overzealous, you’d think he found the Lost Ark and not a woman’s g-spot.
The feeling is so intense and my hips are rocking uncontrollably. My mouth falls open and I’m moaning as his palm presses against me from the outside while his fingers wind me into a frenzy on the inside. Oh shit! This is feeling really good.
“Fuck, yes,” he pants, his lips brushing my nipples. “I want you to fucking come for me.”
He speeds up once more and I lose it. Just then, he bites my nipple. Hard. It hurts, but I’m already tumbling over the edge. I gasp and pant and moan and writhe on the couch as the sensation ricochets through me. My body quakes and he bites my other nipple just as firmly. I’m too lost in pleasure to tell him to stop.
When I open my eyes, he’s flicking his tongue over my hypersensitive nipples and looking up at me.
“Wow, baby! You’re so fucking pretty when you come,” he says, his voice so husky and lustful.
I sit up a little, but he doesn’t withdraw his fingers.
“So tight. I can’t wait to be inside you,” he says, kissing me and biting my bottom lip softly.
“Wait, Eric,” I say, my voice meek and timid, “not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I, I’m not ready,” I answer. The truth is, this has all happened really quickly tonight and I’ve already crossed all kinds of imaginary lines I’d set for myself.
“You feel ready,” he smirks, wiggling his fingers inside me. “You’re so wet for me.”
“I just don’t think we should tonight,” I try to explain.
“Maybe I could change your mind,” he grins mischievously as he kisses the insides of my thighs. His intention is very clear.
I’m not ready for that either, so I close my legs. He looks up at me like he’s bewildered.
“Not yet,” I say apologetically.
“But I want to taste you,” he replies, flicking his tongue over the little triangle that's still exposed at the apex of my thighs. “I want your juices all over my lips and I want to fuck you with my tongue.”
This kind of talk always makes me blush. Whenever I watch James’ scenes, it’s the talking that makes me giggle more than the sex itself. The things he says to these girls are so lewd and scandalous, but he manages to make it hot. Eric, on the other hand, doesn't have that smoothness, that authoritative charisma that makes these words sound sensual. With him, they just sound kind of crude. I’m doing my best not to laugh as he continues to dirty talk me.
“Just give me a taste,” he finally concludes, “just a little taste to get you in the mood to fuck.”
Ah ha! So that’s where this is going. Clearly Eric has been watching some movies of his own because this is almost always the precursor to sex. James says that most actors half-ass it so the camera gets a good shot, but it doesn’t do anything for the girl. He says he likes to get really into it and get them off that way before he fucks them, not act like it’s some appetizer for the main course.
“Not yet, Eric,” I reply, my voice quiet and shy. “Soon, but not yet.”
“Alright,” he says, backing off of me. “Your call.”
“I just can’t have sex with you yet. I’m sorry,” I bashfully ad. Every time we fool around, we get to this point where I have second thoughts about potentially sleeping with him, then I feel bad and I tell him I’m sorry for holding back. Is it normal for all my sexual encounters with Eric to end with an apology?
“It’s cool, Lola,” he shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant even though I can tell he’s slightly frustrated. “It might take longer than with most girls, but I’m gonna get there,” he grins as he reaches down and cups me between my legs.
I laugh at this lofty claim. Is he going to get there? I still can’t decide.
There’s a knock at the door bright and early the next morning and I throw my bathrobe over my pajamas and try to tame my disheveled hair as I go to answer. I smile when I look through the peephole and open up the door.
“You alone?” James asks, peeking in the door.
“Yes!” I roll my eyes and I can’t help but giggle a little. “I’m not going to let him sleep over after only a few weeks.”
“That’s my girl!” he smiles and kisses my forehead as he steps inside. “Brought you some breakfast. I couldn't sleep last night so I figured fuck it and got up early this morning so I could make veggie quiche.”
“My favorite,” I excitedly reply.
“Oh, I know,” he flashes me a little sexy grin. Unless maybe it was a normal grin and I misinterpreted it. Or maybe it really was a sexy smile just for me. I’m confused.
He slices me a piece and grabs one for himself and we sit down at my little kitchen table to eat.
“So, how was lover boy?” he teases, that flirty little smirk still on his lips.
“Very good, I’ll have you know,” I reply smugly.
“You fuck him?” he asks, looking away so we don’t make eye contact. His mouth is a tight frown as he says it, but he eats another bite of quiche, probably thinking I won’t notice.
“No I didn’t fuck him!” I laugh.
“You blow him?” he continues, trying so hard to be nonchalant despite the fact that he’s practically radiating anxiety.
“No! You know I’ve never done that shit,” I shake my head.
“So, what’d you guys do?” he asks and I can tell he’s relaxing a bit.
“Hand stuff,” I answer, knowing my cheeks are turning red as we speak.
“That fuckin’ Nordic lawyer finger blasted you?!” his eyebrows shoot up with surprise.
“James!” I squeal. I can’t look him in the eye. I’m already a giggly mess from recounting the evening in my head.
“Oh please, Lo!” he chuckles. “This is the shit we talk about in conference calls at my job.”
I nod. I’ll have to give him that one. He’s never been shy with talking about sex. He used to tell me every last detail of everything he did with every girl he was with in high school.
“Besides,” he ads with that new, sexy smile, “I like making you squirm.”
“Well, speaking of squirm,” I laugh.
“What?” he says, biting down on his lip to stifle laughter.
“It’s embarrassing,” I giggle, fully blushing.
“Come on,” he pushes, his grin growing wider.
“I’m worried I’m too tight … down there,” I confess.
He can’t hold it back anymore and he snickers.
“Fine, that’s all I’m saying,” I snap, standing to take my dish into the kitchen.
“No, no,” he grabs my wrist, “sit back down. Come on, spill it, kid!”
“Last night, it felt a little uncomfortable when his fingers were in me,” I say timidly. James has always been my sex guru, so I’m sure he can offer some advice.
“How many fingers?” he asks like he’s trying to make a diagnosis.
“Two.”
“And did he warm you up first?”
“Yeah, it was sexy and all, but I don’t know,” I sigh.
“Well, did he start with one and then move up to two or did he just go right for two?” he asks and I can see his jaw clenching like the thought upsets him. So protective, like always.
“He started with one first for a little while, but then he did two and he started going pretty deep.”
“I swear,” he chuckles, “some guys don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.” He shakes his head and smiles at me. “The whole point is to hit the g-spot, which isn’t even that far in. There’s no need to pound away into a girl to get there.” He’s the expert and he’s smirking like this is Sex 101. “You go in a little and then you go up like this,” he ads, curving his fingers in a come here gesture.
For a brief second, I vividly recall how good that felt when he did it to me and I get a little tingle low in my belly. I flush and look away. “Maybe he should watch one of your movies to learn a few things,” I joke, trying to brush off any rogue lusty thoughts.
“No way!” James laughs. “I wouldn’t want him to do anything like that to you. I’m way too rough for him to model his technique after me.”
“Do you ever do it gentle?” My voice comes out slightly more sultry than I’d intended, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how I’m feeling, what the girl wants, shit like that.”
“Why does it depend on that? Do you just normally do it really rough and you have to consciously make yourself be gentle or do you like to go slow and then see if they want it rough?” I ask, trying to figure out his off-screen style. From what I've seen in his videos, sex with him is typically fast, hard and intense, so I’m assuming he's always a little rough.
“Some girls like you to fuck them really hard,” he shrugs. “They like you to just get behind them and fuck the shit out of them until they’re screaming. But other girls are more sensitive and tender down there and you gotta accommodate for that too.” He gives me a smirk. “If you’re worried you’re too tight for fingers, you definitely shouldn’t do anything rough.”
I laugh and shoot him a look. “Shut up!”
He laughs heartily and gives me a smug little smirk.
“Glad to get your recommendations, Mr. Sexpert,” I roll my eyes.
“Dude, next time, just tell him to go slower and to just use one finger instead of two. He’s gotta get you really warmed up first and give your body time to get ready for him. Otherwise, you’re gonna be tense and it’s gonna hurt when he eventually fucks you,” he advises.
The vibe in the room suddenly feels deflated. We’ve talked about my potential first times a lot, but this seems strangely forlorn. He was very casual about what he said, but I have this weird feeling that he’s slightly disappointed, like there are some dashed hopes hidden in the subtext of his words. I also find myself feeling oddly dismayed by the prospect of having sex with Eric. There’s just been so much building up to it that I can’t imagine the pay off could live up to the expectations.
James and I look at each other for a moment, not saying anything but both looking slightly troubled. I get up and take our plates to the kitchen.
“I’ll load up the dishwasher, you just chill,” he says, coming in after me.
“That’s ok, I got it,” I reply.
“Seriously, Lo, go sit down and I’ll do it,” he says.
Bossy James. I roll my eyes and put my coffee cup in the dishwasher as I raise an eyebrow and smirk at him.
“Lola,” he says, a devilish smile coming across his face, “I said I’ll do it.”
I put my hand on my hip and roll my eyes with as much exaggeration as I can.
“Why must you defy me all the time, little girl?” he says in a fake growl as he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.
I’m laughing hysterically when he carries me into the living room.
“Do I have to punish you?” he says in an exaggerated version of that Dominant James voice he uses in his scenes.
“No!” I giggle, feeling the vein bulging in my forehead from how hard I’m laughing.
“No, what?” he says, pretending to be stern.
“No, dude?” I laugh.
He playfully smacks my butt and I laugh loudly as I pretend to struggle in his grasp.
“No, Sir!” I say, imitating the girls from his videos. “No, Mr. Langdon! I’ll be a good girl! Don’t punish me!”
“We’ll see about that!” He slaps my behind again and I laugh harder.
I reach my hands down and start spanking his butt as he holds me. He laughs loudly and spanks me again. He’s doing it lightly, but just enough to show me that he can—since I’m up over his shoulder like this and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
My shorts are riding up and I know half my ass is hanging out as I laugh and continue smacking him back. I feel his teeth graze my behind and he nips at my right butt cheek.
“Aaah!” I squeal with laughter. “Safe-word! Safe-word!”
He twirls me around and flops me back on the couch as he laughs. “Safe-word?!” he teasingly scoffs. “You’re such a lightweight.”
“I did it for your own good,” I laugh, trying to straighten out my hair and my pajamas after that little attack. “You’re lucky because otherwise I might have kicked your ass.”
He gives a hearty laugh and turns to the kitchen. “I’m gonna put the rest of the stuff in the dishwasher,” he says before adding, “and don’t make me spank your tight little ass again!”
I burst into a fit of laughter and I can hear him cracking up in the kitchen as he finishes cleaning up. This is Dominant James. I hardly ever get a glimpse of him. At his core, he’s playful, though, and I’m amused by this little episode instead of being intimidated by it—which would be the correct response if I was some kind of submissive … I guess. I’m not really sure how the whole thing works.
He comes back out and sits down on the couch with me, pulling my legs over his lap so I can recline against the arm of the couch. He’s in a good mood and I’m happy to see him in a good mood after the dark times he’s had with the Eva situation.
James glances over to me and gives me a sweet smile before his expression turns more quizzical.
“What’s that?” he says, pointing to my chest.
“What’s what?” I ask, looking down at myself.
There’s a small discoloration about an inch above my left nipple. It’s barely visible, but it peeks out just a little over my shirt. It’s a bite mark. Eric bit me so hard that he left a mark on my skin. I don’t even want to try to explain this to James. He’ll freak out and I know it.
“Lola, answer me. What is that?” he asks more firmly when he sees my reluctance to respond.
“It’s nothing,” I try to dismiss it.
“Lola, what is that on your fuckin’ boob?” he says as he sternly furrows his brow.
“I think it’s a bite mark,” I finally confess.
“What?!” he practically growls. “That asshole bit you?!”
“Calm down,” I snap. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s not a big deal.”
“Let me see,” he pulls me closer beside him so I’m kneeling on the couch and he grabs at my shirt.
“James!” I gasp as he yanks my shirt down and exposes my breast. The bruise goes all the way around my nipple in the circular shape of Eric’s mouth. Yikes! Maybe it's worse than I thought.
“Oh my God, baby,” he groans like it pains him to see such a thing.
“I told you, it doesn’t hurt,” I say, quickly covering myself with my hands.
“Stop that,” he says as he snatches my hands away.
I feel weird with James staring at my breast like this. He was the first boy to ever see my tits, but this context is decidedly darker than the little flirtatious episode at our friend's pool party. My cheeks are flushed and I want to cover up, but he holds my wrists until I quit trying to squirm out of his grasp.
“Does it hurt? Tell me for real,” he says warily as he raises his hand and gently brushes his fingers along the bruise.
“No, I told you, it doesn’t hurt,” I reply.
My heart has started beating faster and my eyes are fixated on his fingers touching my tender skin. I hate to admit it, but I kind of dig it. I blink my eyes and force the thoughts away as I look down at him.
“I don’t like this, Lo,” he says softly as he looks up at me, gently cupping my breast. “I don’t like some dude leaving marks on you. He hurt you, baby.”
“I’m ok, James,” I say, finally covering myself up and pulling my shirt back into place.
“Did he do this last night?” he asks. I can see a torrent of rage mixed with melancholy in his eyes.
“Yes,” I nod. I feel shy, almost embarrassed.
“Did it hurt when he did it?” he presses.
“Yes, but only a little bit,” I whisper as I look away and nod.
“Oh, Lola,” he says, his voice pained.
He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tight. He’s genuinely troubled by what he’s just seen. A guy who spanks and whips girls all day long in kinky videos is truly unsettled by a little mark on my nipple.
“I’m alright,” I say reassuringly. “It didn’t hurt that bad and it doesn’t hurt at all today.”
“I don’t want anyone to hurt you, Lola. Ever,” he softly replies, holding me close so his cheek is resting against my chest. “Please promise me you won’t let him bite you like that again.”
