That is a disgusting idea, and it does actually deflate my hard-on a bit. “Agreed. Not that such behavior is necessary. There are plenty of studies with a wider variety of men that have accomplished the same thing.”
Her grin is the most beautiful thing in my world. “That’s how you know you’re bigger than average. Research.”
“It is obviously how you know I am bigger than average, too. I doubt you have measured your former bed partners. Men tend to be sensitive about that kind of thing, and you are a very intuitive woman.”
She glances down again. The blush on her cheeks grows brighter. “That’s why I asked how long it’s been for you. I meant since you’ve had sex. You’ve never seemed so…aroused before.”
“I have been aroused many times before. I have simply never allowed myself to be aroused around you.” By her? Yes. For most of the past seventeen point two years. The memories have faded over time, but I am relatively certain my first erection was caused by being aroused by this woman. That was a surprising experience.
The brightness of her cheeks and her eyes dims a little. “Why not me?”
“We are best friends. That kind of sexually aggressive behavior is not welcome in a relationship like ours. I am very good at controlling myself when I have to.” This is another stellar selling point of mine. Society places great value on self-control.
She likes what I am selling. Her smile is soft, her eyes even softer. I have not seen that look on her face often, but it is one of my favorites. “It’s welcome now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I concede. Maybe a little too eagerly. I dial it down a notch. “I obviously have to be aroused to make a baby with you.”
She adjusts herself until she is on her knees, wedged between my legs. Her hand flattens against my zipper, then she strokes me through my jeans.
A hiss escapes through my gritted teeth.
“Does that hurt?” she asks, breathless like she is the one in agony.
“A combination of jeans and an erection is never comfortable.”
“Hmm. I’ll bet.” Shockingly, she carefully unbuttons then unzips my pants. She strokes me again with only the barrier of my cotton underwear between our skin.
My eyes roll in the back of my head involuntarily. Olivia is touching me. I never want her to stop.
“Does this hurt?” she murmurs.
“No, Liv. That feels very good.” It could be better, but I get the distinct impression she does not want to work on our coital alignment to prepare for go-time. I might have misjudged though. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to touch you, too.”
The sensation of cool, blissfully neutral air washes over my sensitive cock. I open my eyes to stare at a sight I never thought I would see before I died.
Olivia Ann Holland is stroking me and licking her lips like she wants to swallow me whole.
“I cannot impregnate you orally,” I choke out. It is a stupid thing to say. I have wanted her hands, her mouth, her tits…her anything on my dick for years. Her intent is clear. Why would I say a word to stop this?
She kisses me. Just the tip, just the barest brush of her lips. “Please, Ollie?”
I reach down to push her head closer to her intended goal. Access granted. Words are not happening for me anytime soon.
She smiles then—wonder of wonders—licks me. Olivia licks my penis.
My heart races inside my chest. My lungs work feverishly to provide the extra oxygen necessary.
I cannot form words, but I can make plenty of sounds. Moans, groans, whimpers and every synonym in between.
When the pleasure is so intense I can hardly stand it, I squeeze my eyes shut and press my head back against the arm of the couch to stop myself from blowing too soon.
She is working me over in ways that have so much basis for comparison yet none at all. Because this is Olivia, and my wildest fantasies pale compared with reality.
It is common courtesy to let the woman performing fellatio know when I have reached the point of no return. Some women do not enjoy the taste of semen. I tap Liv’s head because…still no words.
She smiles around my cock and sucks harder. One hand cups my balls, while the other pumps the base of my rock-hard cock.
I am a goner. White hot electricity bursts from my hypothalamus and my muscles contract on autopilot, sending transcendental waves of a potent cocktail of endorphins throughout my body.
The sensation of her throat opening and closing around the head of my cock while she swallows and hums takes me to a new and different place I am never going to come back down from. She does not stop until she sucks me dry.
“Liv,” I croak. It is the only word I know.
She is very skilled at this because she obviously knows how sensitive I am now. She gently tucks my deflating dick back inside my underwear but thankfully leaves my fly wide open.
Gradually, the burst of chemicals and electricity fade. My breathing and heart rate slow to a more manageable pace. There is much more mental fog to fight through than usual, but I do. For her.
“Please come sit on my face.”
She chuckles. “Are you a vampire now?” Carefully, she slides her body alongside mine, avoiding my still overly sensitive dick. She taps my nose. “Bleeding.”
Oh. Right. Right. “Allow me five minutes to recover, then I will stick my hand down your pants.”
Laughter bursts out of her mouth, sending puffs of hot breath against my face. “Still bleeding!”
I am grateful the idea of getting my hand bloody seems to be off the table.
“I can kiss you. You like that.”
Her happy expression falls away. I do not know what this new expression is. “Would you like to taste your semen to determine if it meets your standards for impregnation?”
No. Not particularly. I sigh. “I have nothing left to offer you. I cannot be selfish, Liv. That is unacceptable behavior.”
This expression, I am familiar with. I have made her sad even though she is the one refusing my every suggestion to even the score. “You can be selfish if the other person asks you to be, Ollie. I didn’t pleasure you, expecting anything in return.”
I blink at her. This is an unfamiliar concept that goes against every rule I have learned. “I dislike being selfish.”
She kisses my cheek. In spite of the intimate way she sucked my semen down her throat six minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago, this kiss feels like a normal interaction. Completely platonic with no romantic undertones. Worse yet, she climbs off me and slips on her sandals then walks toward the front door.
“You are leaving?”
“Yes. It’s late, and we both have to be up early for work tomorrow.”
“You need to sleep with me,” I insist, panic erasing all the happy, relaxed feelings of fifty-seven seconds ago. “Even if I did not pleasure you to orgasm, we are both releasing copious amounts of dopamine, oxytocin, and vasopressin.”
“I don’t know what that means, Ollie.” Her hand is on the doorknob.
I am going to lose more time.
“Those are the human bonding neurochemicals,” I explain, pulling myself up from my position on the couch that I could stay plastered to for eternity. With her. “They light up the reward centers of the brain. The more of them we have, and the more we associate them with each other, the better the chances for conception.”