I open the ride-share app and a driver picks us up five minutes later. Montauk is half an hour away at the edge of Long Island.
“I've never been there,” Aurora says.
“You haven't? Well, you're in for a treat. It's kind of a quaint little town that's full of charm, at least in the summertime. In the winter, it's pretty dead like the rest of the island.”
When we get to my house, I take her inside through the back door and tell her to be very quiet. The house settles and creaks with each step, but she is careful not to make any noise. She's so committed to it that she even takes off her heels.
“I don't want your mother to wake up," she explains and follows me to my old room.
If I had known that I would have a visitor tonight, let alone Aurora Tate, I would've at least picked up some of the dirty clothes off the floor and
organized the books scattered all over the place. But she doesn’t seem to mind.
Instead she just wraps her arms around my neck and stands up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine. I take her into my arms and bury my hands in her hair. Her skin feels soft and full of life, and when I lick her, I taste the salt coming off the ocean.
Her shoulders broaden and contract with each breath as I slowly run my lips down her neck. She tilts her head back enjoying the moment. I linger for a moment around her collarbone before tugging at her dress. When the spaghetti straps slide down her arms, it falls to the floor.
She's not wearing a bra, only a pair of black lace panties. Her body is soft in all of the right places and she has curves that go on for miles. She's not overweight, but she is also not a stick figure.
I can tell that she's a little bit embarrassed by her nudity, but I get down on my knees and kiss her stomach to make up for it. She tries to bring me back up to a standing position, but I refuse. I want to kneel here and worship her.
Slowly, I pull down her panties and she opens her legs. She tucks her hands up by her breasts and waits for me to press my mouth to her.
6
Aurora
He touches me in every way a woman wants to be touched. His hands are firm and strong and they direct my body to maximize my pleasure. But instead of bending me to his will, he bends to mine. The only issue is that I don't know exactly what I want. I need him to show me.
Being naked in front of him is not like being naked in front of other people. My curves and my lumpy bits seem to only turn him on. In the past, I’ve had a boyfriend or three tell me that I would be prettier if I were just a little bit thinner.
It is hard to describe what it feels like to have someone say the one thing that you are most terrified of that someone else is thinking.
But Henry revels in my body. He loves it. He buries his tongue and his fingers deep within me and it's all I can do to not scream out his name.
But I have a dirty little secret. I have never had an orgasm. Of course, I have moaned and yelled a guy’s name and went through all of the motions to pretend like I was experiencing something epic, but it was all a show. Maybe, my secret is not so dirty after all.
Unfortunately, tonight is no different.
It's not Henry, he is hotter and sexier than any other guy I have ever been with. In addition to his hard as steel body, there's his personality and his way of being that makes me want to just rip off his clothes.
But tonight, I reach a plateau again. It has nothing to do with him.
It's all me. I'm in my head, and I can't get out of it.
Maybe it has something to do with me being self-conscious or just uncomfortable in a new environment, or maybe it's just the fact that I'm not lying on my back the way I do when I touch myself, but I can't let go.
I can't let him take me there, to that space where nothing else exists except for two of us.
He continues to go down on me and my knees start to grow weak. For a moment, I think that it might happen after all but then another one comes and my hopes evaporate.
I pull him up to his knees and lead him to his bed, a comically small twin-size bed, the kind that I have seen little kids have on television. My bed at home has been king-size ever since I can remember.
The smallness of this one brings us even closer together. There's nowhere to go except into each other’s arms.
He drapes his body over mine as he climbs on top of me.
He kisses my neck.
He kisses my breasts. He goes all the way down to my stomach and then to my pelvic region. He wants to go south again, but I want something else. I ask him to flip over me. Moving his legs toward my face, he positions his own head in between mine. I wrap my hands around his large, thick cock and run my tongue up and down eventually taking it into my mouth.
Our movements become one as the ebb and flow of our kisses morph together. He starts to moan my name and I start to feel like I’m inching closer to the edge, but the minutes tick along and I don’t get there.
Sometime later, he flips me onto my stomach and climbs on top. I push my butt up into the air as he finds that sweet spot in the middle of my core and thrusts himself inside. He opens me as wide as possible and I take him deeper and deeper inside with each thrust. We move in complete unison with even our breaths mimicking one another’s.
Suddenly, a strange feeling comes over me. I begin to relax. Every muscle in my body gets infused with oxygen and somehow softens. But then Henry’s movements speed up and he whispers my name over and over again into my ear.
When he moans, I moan along with him. I am not faking anything. This experience has been one of the most exciting and titillating of my life, and yet I know that I have not reached that epic point where I fall off the cliff. He yells my name into the pillow, muffling his voice, and I whisper “shh” over and over again to get him to be quieter.
Afterward, he holds me in his arms and I let myself drift off to sleep. For the first time, in a long time, I am completely at peace.
The following morning, I wake up before him. I revel in the fact that we actually slept with our bodies intertwined with each other's. I thought that was only possible in the movies. But somehow I slept in the crook of his elbow and neither of us were uncomfortable or even crammed.
There is an old-fashioned alarm clock on the bedside table and it flashes 8 a.m.
Shit, I say to myself. I doubt that my friends are actually worried about me, but I am certain that Mr. Madsen is. We were supposed to come back that night, late, but not this late.
I climb out of bed slowly, quickly wrapping the sheet around my body. When I notice that the sheet is also wrapped tightly around Henry, I decide to let it go and not disturb him. Instead, I scramble around the room looking for my panties and my dress.
I find my phone next to my heels in the far corner of the room. I scroll through the messages as quickly as I can. They’re all from Mr. Madsen and I quickly write him back.
Much to my surprise, Ellis has not contacted me and neither have any of the other girls. Mr. Madsen is not satisfied with a simple text and demands that I call him immediately so that he can make sure that I am actually safe.
I dial his number. If this were anyone else, I wouldn’t bother. But Mr. Madsen and I have a special relationship, he has been like a favorite uncle of mine ever since I was a little girl. And while I suspect that my own father only pretends to worry about me, I know that Mr. Madsen actually does.