It's Not the Size That Counts Ch. 08

"What??" I'd just asked Steven to have sex with me.

I blushed. In fact I'm sure I turned completely purple. But I stood my ground. I had decided, in that split second, that I would live with the pain, just for once, in order to be with this beautiful man, and have incredible memories of our time together. I also realized that it was the only way he was going to believe me, the only way I could end it without hurting him. I would endure the pain in order to spare him from it. It was the only thing I could do to protect the man I loved.

"Sex, Steven. You know, that thing that people do together when they're naked?"

I was determined not to back off. I knew I had to maintain my momentum, or I was going to break down again. I started unbuttoning my blouse.

"I know what sex is, Sarah. But I don't understand why you are asking me this right now. Aren't you trying to break up with me? And would you stop that, for heaven's sake?"

Steven grabbed my hands and physically prevented me from getting any further down than the third button. I had a lot of cleavage exposed, but that was all.

I allowed him to hold my hands, and he didn't let go. It felt nice, I reflected briefly.

"Tell me what's going on. Please?"

He was pleading now. I knew if I looked into his eyes I'd start crying again. I wondered if I'd made a mistake, but recognized it was too late to do anything about it.

"Look, Steven, there's a reason we can't be together. I don't even know how to start to explain it to you. I do love you," and my voice cracked, just slightly, as I admitted it again, "but I can't be with you. I want you to make love to me. You'll understand after, I promise. I need you to trust me, just for a little while."

I steeled myself and met his gaze, his eyes searching my face. The frown and deep creases in his forehead remained. I almost started to cry again, but I managed to blink the tears away and hold my gaze steadily on his eyes.

He studied me silently for several minutes, my hands relaxed inside his. I could almost see the wheels turning. I wondered what he was thinking, but knew better than to ask. I stayed quiet.

Finally he appeared to come to a decision; I was suddenly terrified. 'What if he says no? What if he doesn't want to have sex with me? Oh God, I should never have brought this up, ' I thought. 'Too late. I'm so stupid. He's going to say no... '

"Okay, Sarah. This time you win."

I blinked. I had convinced myself so strongly in mere moments that he would say no that it took several seconds for me to process what I had heard. He took advantage of my pause to add a condition.

"But we do this my way."

"What does that mean?"

"If we are going to do this, if I'm going to trust you on this, we do it my way. I'm not going to have you stripping out of your clothes right here and now, and just 'doing it'. We're going to do it right."

He stared into my eyes, daring me to object. I looked at his face, the set of his mouth, and knew there was no point in arguing. I wanted to just get it over with... but I couldn't deny that some part of me wanted to be made love to properly, before the pain hit.

"Agreed?" he asked me.

"Agreed." I decided to push my luck, however, and left the three buttons undone on my blouse. I'm sure he noticed, but he didn't say a thing.

"Steven?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"You asked me how I felt about you. I told you."

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me how you feel?"

"Honestly, Sarah, no. I'm not. Not until I know what's going on."

********

I expected that, despite what Steven had said about doing things his way, we would be heading to his bedroom.

I was wrong.

Steven continued to perch on the edge of the couch by my knees, and we talked. After a while, he moved so my legs were in his lap, one of his arms around my shoulder, me facing him while he faced forward. His hand roamed over my back, up to stroke my hair, and down to rub my neck. Despite trying to pay attention to his words, his hands were distracting. I reveled in it.

I discovered, sitting in this comfortable position, that I could lean forward very slightly and put my head on Steven's shoulder. I did that, and we readjusted so my legs were tucked partially under me and hanging off the couch. It was slightly less comfortable for my sore ankle, but it gave me more contact against Steven's side, and I needed it. Despite talking about subjects that weren't in the least intimidating or scary, and despite Steven making me laugh, I was nervous. I had the jitters, wondering when, and if, he would make a move. In spite of that, I noticed he smelled good. Really good.

I tucked my shoulder under Steven's armpit and snuggled up to his side, my head now against his chest and my arm wrapped around his stomach. I could feel Steven's chin resting on my head, and he kissed the top of my head periodically. His left arm was over my shoulder, holding me close to his chest, his hand intermittently stroking my hair and the side of my face. His free right hand slowly caressed my other arm. With my head on his chest like that I could hear the soft lub-dub of Steven's heart, and the quiet whoosh each time he breathed. His words resonated through his chest and vibrated in my head as he spoke.

As we sat, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, my left hand would lightly explore. First up across Steven's strong chest, to his right shoulder, and down his arm. My fingers traced his where they sat on his belly. From there I mapped out the gentle curve of his abdomen, down to his belt, then wrapping my arm around his flank I pulled myself close to him for another hug. Then I would start again, this time my hand traveling up to his neck, his smooth, cleanly shaven cheek, and back to run briefly through his hair. I played with every exposed button on the front of his semi-casual shirt, and fidgeted with the collar.

Steven told me how he had had a stern conversation with his crazy dog (who I had decided I was permanently going to call Lassie) about waking guests in the middle of the night. I started laughing. He also told me about having to carry my limp body off the couch, into the spare bedroom, and onto the bed last night. He described undressing me and putting me into his t-shirt in such a colourful way that I couldn't help but giggle more. I had never thought about how difficult removing a bra from a lifeless, slumped over person would be. I couldn't believe how deeply I must have been sleeping! His t-shirt was currently folded away in my drawer at home, a memento I planned to keep.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?" I mumbled, into his chest.

"That's really distracting, honey."

Without paying attention to what I was doing, my fingers had sneaked under Steven's shirt collar, and were teasingly playing along his collarbone, my touch so soft it must have been tickling him. I smiled to myself, and kept playing with his skin.

"Sorry," I lied.

He tried to carry on talking, while my fingers quested along his clavicle, then up his neck to his jaw, all the time barely touching, the lightest of caresses. He stuttered, and stopped talking, lifting his chin up and tilting his head, slightly, to give me more access to his vulnerable and obviously sensitive neck.

"You win this round, you little witch," he laughed, and held my hand still to the side of his face as I giggled. He turned his head, slightly, and kissed my palm. I was amazed at the heat of his lips on my hand.

I turned my head, tilted it up at an awkward angle, so I could see his face. He released my hand, and his right hand stroked my cheek, softly, and played with one of the ringlets surrounding my face. Ever since the first night we met, I loved it when he did that; this time was no exception.

I met his eyes, and I could see the conflict inside him. He was clearly burning to ask all the questions that were troubling him - why was I doing this, should he trust me? - but he seemed to decide not to.

Instead, as I was opening my mouth to say something, anything, to change the subject, he leaned down towards me and kissed me.

Steven and I had shared some passionate kisses in the short period of time we'd been together, but this one blew the rest away. His lips were soft and supple against mine, planting tantalizing little pecks along my lower lip, then oh-so-gently sucking it into his mouth, just enough to make me gasp, before moving to my upper one and repeating the process. I was lost in the tenderness of his caress, a willing follower, as we dropped little kisses on every surface of each other's lips. He intermittently flicked mine with his tongue, quickly and teasingly, making me moan each time I felt the touch. I opened my mouth, wanting to feel his tongue against mine, but he playfully pulled away and sucked gently on my lower lip again.

We shifted so we faced each other, my chest pressed tightly up against his. My right arm, which had been tucked between our bodies, wrapped around his back, clutching a handful of his shirt. My left hand moved to the back of his head, pulling him to me, desperate for his mouth to devour mine. He leaned back against the couch, pulling me up against him so we were at equal apparent height. His left hand tangled in my curly hair, holding our faces tightly together. His right hand, however, remained free to explore.

It started behind my back, pressing firmly against the tight muscles under my shoulder blade, and then up to briefly rub the back of my shoulder and side of my arm. Sliding down again it slipped around my flank, and I could feel his fingers against my ribs, with just enough pressure not to tickle. He repeated this motion, over and over, occasionally running his fingers along my arm all the way up where my hand cradled his head. His little pecks and kisses were driving me up the wall, my desire a lick of flame traveling along my insides from my face where he was kissing and nibbling me so lovingly, down my throat, and pouring like liquid fire through my chest.

I could barely breathe - I felt like I was drowning, but I had no desire to save myself. I surrendered to his passion, clinging to him like he was my only hope, returning his kisses, licking and sucking his lips when I was able between gasps and moans. I couldn't get enough of him, and continued to try to pull him closer and closer to me, until he was leaning over me, his weight pressing me back on the couch.

I have no idea how long we spent kissing; it felt like hours. All I could feel was the wonderful sliding of mouth on mouth, the hesitant touching of one moist tongue on another, the outpouring of love flowing from me to him, attempting to demonstrate what I had already admitted to him in words.

Eventually he pulled his lips away from mine. I whimpered in despair, missing the contact, until he tilted my head back and resumed his kissing and sucking along the line of my jaw and down my neck to my collar bone. The lightning bolts of lust which had been sparking through my body increased in intensity, and reduced me to panting and groaning each time his lips buzzed my skin.

Steven's hand didn't stop moving while he was worshipping my neck with his lips; while his left hand still securely held my head, his fingers tangled through my curls, his right hand roamed. He touched my face, rubbed my back, and stroked my arm and shoulder. Every now and then his hand would brush across the outside of my breast, seemingly accidentally, and I would shudder. No matter how I tried to move into his caresses, he kept his touch light and teasing; I was going mad. My nipple was jutting out almost painfully, and he hadn't even approached it yet, never mind touched it. I tried taking his hand and forcing it onto my breast, but he was not allowing himself to be led. Our mouths had started their complex dance again; in desperation I finally pulled away enough to let me speak.

"Steven. Are you ever going to touch me where I want you to?" I pleaded, my voice husky.

He looked at me innocently. "Where would you like my hand, Sarah?"

I was torn. How to tell him? I'd never said the word 'tit' before, 'breast' sounded too clinical; while I debated the relative merits of 'boob' in my mind, he must have noticed my hesitation, and relented.

"Put my hand where you want it, Sarah."

His hand was cupping my cheek at that point. I wasted no time reaching up, taking his wrist, and slowly, nervously edging his hand downwards. He smiled encouragement at me, and let his hand follow my directions. When his hand reached the swell of my left breast, I groaned and leaned in to start kissing Steven again. His hand moved the rest of the way on its own, and I gasped into Steven's mouth as his hand finally engulfed my breast, squeezing gently.

At first, he just gently rubbed and squeezed the entire mound, the somewhat rough palm of his hand grazing my nipple occasionally through my shirt. My breath caught in my throat with every little contact, the squeezing motion encouraging increased blood flow and sensitivity to the area. He finally seemed to notice the proud, firm bump that was my nipple, and started lightly playing the pads of his fingers over it. He would punctuate this intermittently with a sharper pinch, which would send a spasm of pleasure through my body, and elicit an involuntary, guttural groan from my mouth.

My left hand had dropped to his chest, trying to give him greater access to my inflamed breast; I realized, through the fog of lust clouding my brain, that I now had equal access to his nipples. When his right hand shifted from one breast to the other, I made my move and first lightly teased, then flicked his nipple. It was his turn to groan, the sound confirming that he had nipples that were just as sensitive as mine.

As I continued to play with his tender little nubs, I realized something else; this position placed my left elbow in Steven's lap. And it was an interesting place for my elbow indeed - I noticed I could feel the length of his impressive cock, straining against the confines of his pants. The nervous flutters in my stomach started up again briefly, but I ignored them and lost myself again in his kisses. I continued to harass his hard nipples, and allowed my elbow to 'accidentally' bump and rub lightly along his erection.

Steven must have known what I was doing; to distract me from my task, I felt him reach down, gently tug on the hem of my blouse, and then felt his hot hand against my bare stomach. I giggled into his mouth as he tickled a bit, but I felt his hand slowly creep up until it enclosed my bra-covered breast. I renewed my attack on both his nipples and his mouth, trying to suppress the whimper that was attempting to escape my lips. I would twitch, involuntarily pressing my breast into his hand, but he would back off and keep the touch light. I sucked his lower lip entirely into my mouth, and nibbled on it gently with my teeth, then licked it teasingly with my tongue. I was rewarded by a slightly tighter squeeze on my breast and a groan.

Steven upped the ante by almost immediately running his hand up my breast, tickling my collar bone briefly, before sliding back down, his calloused palms now in direct contact with the bare skin of my breast, under my bra. It felt so good against my over-excited skin that I whined into his open mouth, panting and incoherently begging for more stimulation. I released the nipple in my left hand and without hesitation placed it in his lap, encircling his cock as best I could within my fingers, and commencing a tighten-release rhythm that I had found effective with previous boyfriends. In return, Steven obliged me by taking my nipple between two rough fingertips and rolling it, squeezing more firmly.

I broke off the kiss at this point, too overcome by desire to concentrate on kissing. His hand in my hair still held our faces close together, and I could feel little puffs of air on my face as he panted to the rhythm of my hand on his cock.

"Sarah," he gasped, punctuating his words with a tight squeeze on my nipple. I hissed. "You need to stop that."

"What. This?" I quickly ran the tight circle between my thumb and forefinger down the length of his shaft and back up.

"God, yes, that!" He stopped to groan, and then continued. "That feels fantastic, but I really don't want to come in my pants."

I giggled, and reluctantly released my grip. His hand was still up under my shirt, under my bra, cupping my left breast.

"What now, then?"

He ever so slowly released my nipple, and extracted his hand from my shirt.

He leaned in and captured my lips in one more steamy, mind blowing kiss, leaving me dazed.

"As I recall, you asked if I would have sex with you."

I nodded.

"I'd like to make love to you instead. Would that be acceptable?"

My eyes misted over, and I nodded again.

And with that, he stood up, scooped me into his arms, and headed to the bedroom.