His new favorite thing is the small, wet spot he finds on the front of Rachel’s cotton panties when he strips off her skirt.
The first few times he used his fingers on her, he wasn’t looking between her legs. He was too busy staring at her face and taking pleasure in the flushed cheeks and lip bites and dark eyes. But when their sex life matured, he had his introductory course of going down on her, and he was finally able to drink in the sight of that dark, damp circle on center of her pink polka-dot covered pussy.
It was like a moth to a flame. It electrified him. It turned him on a hundred times more than a skinimax pornstar.
Because this was Rachel. And she was wet. For him.
He loves it and her and the soft sighs that escape her lips when he takes off her bottoms and leaves her underwear in place just so he can stare for a while. She doesn’t mind. He’s her favorite audience.
He likes to tease her, tickle her, stroke her. Her inner thighs are so sensitive to his touch; they quiver when he finds the right spot. He runs his fingers over the thin cotton seperating his skin from hers, and she squirms with impatience. She’s needy. He’s greedy. He wants to see that dark spot get bigger.
When he finally peels away that last stitch of clothing, it becomes a battle against himself. The moment he sees her glistening, swollen, red sex he wants to dive in and eat her like a starving man. He loves eating her out, or ‘licking’ as Rachel calls it.
“That term is so crass,” she said. “I’m not a meal,” she said.
Little does she know he’d eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
He becomes a little obsessed with her taste. It works out because she becomes a little obsessed with his tongue, training him, guiding him until he’s a master at oral. Most days, he’s under her skirt the minute they arrive to an empty house.
For the first few weeks, they’re standard, but when the itch to get a tad more adventurous creeps up on them, they scratch it. They swap positions, and she finally sits on his face, and he almost drowns as she rides his mouth. It was too much. Too sweet, too hot, too heavy.
He never wants to go back to the old way. She doesn’t get him to do her on her back for another three days, two blow jobs, and one promise to keep her knee socks on the next time they make love. Her socks are insanely hot. The contrast between her silky skin and the rough cotton-nylon blend can make him come almost instantly. He doesn’t care, and neither does she.
“I like being able to make you lose control so fast,” she said.
It’s not as big of a problem as it used to be. He can get hard again quickly these days knowing that once he does, they can have more sex. Tons of sex. As much as they can fit between the two hour time period after school before anyone else comes home. They’re normally in a rush to both come at least twice (that’s always the goal). With the time constraint and the parents who’ve become twice as overbearing since their engagement, they have to work fast. He doesn’t have time to think about the mailman anymore. He has to give his fianceé what she begs him for during the ride home, what she writes in naughty notes she slips into his notebooks, what she whispers into his ear at booty camp. He has no time to think. Nothing is going to stall him from being inside her.
The first time they fuck - really fuck - it’s rough, and hard, and emotions are running high, and he pretty sure that if they didn’t end up having sex, they would have had one of the biggest arguments ever. Her poor hairbrush couldn’t take another pitch at the door, so he kisses her until it hurts and pulls down her panties and doesn’t even get his pants all the way off before slamming into her. It was the first time Rachel didn’t catch herself before cursing while they had sex.
“Harder! Fuck me harder!” She said, and he did, and he left bruises on her hips that disappeared in two weeks, and they both constantly craved for them to come back.
They get so caught up in the actual sex - the thrusting, the pouding, the positions, the tightness - that he starts to miss the times when oral was all they did. So, when they were alone and opportunity presented itself, he grabbed it. ‘It’ being her skirt.
She was two steps ahead of him as they went up to her room. He caught the flowing fabric between his fingers, tugged, and forced her to turn. He tucked her skirt into the waistband of her purple and gold stripped boyshorts and grinned when he found the dark spot. His finger hooked around the crotch and pulled it aside. She complained that he couldn’t wait until they were in her room, but silence when his tongue touched her heated flesh. He gave her multiples on the stairs that day and they ached from the awkward angles, but her orgasms were worth it.
On the scale of risqué (Rachel’s word) things they’ve done, the stairs rank low. She has a kink for almost getting caught. He finds out when she gives him a handjob in the movie theatres. And again when she gets on his lap in the front seat of his truck while it’s still daylight. And again when she gets on her knees in the janitor’s closet. And the locker room. And in the dressing rooms behind the auditorium stage. He pays her back, with interest.
The biggest chance they took was when her dads were home. They never do it when parents are in the house – unless they’re asleep or outside or in this case when Rachel was just super horny. Their only problem is that she can’t keep quite.
He knew she’d be loud during sex after the first couple weeks he knew her. Yeah, he thought about sex with Rachel back then. He’s allowed to say that now.
He told her that she couldn’t keep her voice down, but she insisted and begged and pouted, and who’s he to deny her? It’s the first time he takes her from behind. They’re on her piano rug. They get burns on their knees that make dancing rough for a few days, but when she surprises him in the boy’s bathroom after school, he lets it go (in her mouth).
He thinks about the future a lot. Them. New York. A tiny apartment with furniture that’s too small for him but perfectly sized for her. He thinks about the view from their windows and how he’d press her against the pane and whisper how the city won’t know what to do with all of her talent. He wants that, and he tells her when they’re making love on a Saturday night after a date.
She orgasms twice in a row, and he has scratches on his back as evidence.
People think they’re totally vanilla. They make snide comments about their lights being off and clothes being on and it only lasting five minutes.
Rachel likes proving people wrong, but in this case it’s only ever beneficial to him.
He likes it that way.