The Hunger That Answered

Wynn

I can’t believe I said what I actually fucking wanted. God, I should’ve manned up and lied.

Jessica jumped up. “Wait, are you serious?” She shot off the bed so fast that her tits bounced in the air, her perfect areolas round and plump with nipples harder than diamond. Her thick thighs were already bruising, leaving a pattern of my handprints from the power and length of railing her.

We were in the master bedroom of her condo, and the amount of space in here, even with the dresser, two nightstands, a bookshelf, king-size bed, and the attached bathroom, was ridiculous. The bed was her favorite place to fuck, but now and then she took a good pounding over the kitchen table, spread eagle while sprawled on the counter, even the damn living room couch. That couch was not made for any sexual position, though Jessica couldn’t care less.

I sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard with my legs extending out in front of me. Sweat covered my pale body, soaking the nearby bedsheets. The other fluids were... well, they were from Jessica. Who I just made squirt and orgasm for the longest she ever had. She loved a good missionary position.

If I were thankful for anything in this moment, it was that I had the stamina to finish her off, and by that, I mean not just bring her to orgasm, but ride her through it with enough thrusting and force that she squirted. That, combined with both our sweat, made for a nice, swampy, gray-sheeted bed.

We’d only been dating three months, and sex did fill most of those months. There was just one problem.

I hadn’t orgasmed once. I could stay hard. I could stay throbbing long enough to fulfill every one of Jessica’s desires—which were all vanilla—mostly missionary and doggy-style. Women could fake orgasms, but men faking them was much harder.

If you came, where’d it go? Because it wasn’t inside me.

I didn’t feel that burst of warmth.

Your cock didn’t feel like it came. You aren’t my first.

The retorts to a man faking orgasms were a mile long.

“Please don’t make me ask again,” I said. Blood no longer rushed to my penis, and it stopped throbbing when I saw Jessica’s reaction to what I wanted.

Once I told her, the second the words left my mouth, her blue eyes drooped, her cheeks dropped, and her mouth popped open. Just enough to convey shock without over-selling it.

See, since I rocked her world-her words, not mine-she opened up the floor to ask for anything I wanted. Something that I’d always fantasized about, but never got to try in reality.

I knew what I wanted. For a long time I knew what I wanted. Though it was something I always kept in my fantasies, never to see the light of day. I feared judgment from past girlfriends, and I never told any of them what I wanted because I didn’t want to see their reaction should they have said no. But I admit I didn’t fear Jessica’s. Clearly, I was wrong.

It only happened minutes ago, but in hindsight, she was probably expecting me to ask for a simple blowjob or something. Vanilla to match her vanilla. A trade-off.

Fuck me for thinking I could actually get what I truly desired. Vanilla was boring, and just like any other guy who thought with his penis—which was every man on the planet—I could still perform.

My eyes shot over to Jessica, who was now pacing back and forth on the hardwood floor. Jessica’s tan skin looked smooth and pristine in the warm light from our two lamps on the nightstands—one on either side of the bed. She pulled the clip out of her blonde hair and let it down, fluffing it with her hand. Then she ran her fingers through it, starting at the base of her forehead.

I recognized her many nervous tics. I hadn’t a clue what she had to be nervous or anxious about.

The only sounds were the gentle slap of her bare feet on the hardwood as she walked all the way to the far wall where the bedroom door was, and then all the way back to the opposing wall where the headboard rested. The other sound was the low blow of the AC coming from the ceiling vent on the left wall near the window, which had the curtains drawn.

“I can’t believe you just asked me to do that, Wynn,” she muttered, seemingly to herself on one of her many pacing escapades.

Christ, you’d think I asked her something illegal or completely disgusting. That was farthest from the truth. The truth-which I was now regretting telling-was an act so simple that it had an entire swimming pool game based around it. It was something you could do in public. For me and this kink, I took it to the next level, only in fantasy.

Jessica was in shape. I wasn’t. I was almost guaranteed she could fucking do my kink and make me orgasm harder than her squirt. But fuck my pleasure, I guess.

In my defense, I had the start of some abs, but it was just from sitting too much and hunching over, creating grooves that looked like I'd been going to the gym when that was the farthest from the truth. We programmers make decent money, even at entry-level, but damn, our posture was horrendous. I was more into cardio than weightlifting.

I pinched my fingers, doing anything I could to avoid Jessica’s penetrating gaze. She stared at me every time she paced this way. If she had eyes in the back of her head, she’d stare at me while pacing away, too.

I bent my knees and pulled them up, wrapped my arms around them, and rested my head. Jessica’s shadow stopped, and I craned to see her standing off to the side of the bed. Her hands were on her hips.

Jessica scoffed, with every intent being disgust in the air that left her mouth. “Well, Wynn? Are you going to say anything?”

The pink bedroom walls suddenly became much more nauseating and claustrophobic. My flaccid cock now lay against my balls, pressed up from the cold bedsheets, much like how I felt inside.

A chill crept up my spine, alongside the growing goosebumps on my thighs and the rising hairs on my arms. “It’s a simple request.” With the thick tension, Jessica and I both being naked felt wrong, despite the dampness of her fluids around me on the sheets. It was less now, given evaporation.

I swear this king-size bed had shrunk. Or maybe it felt that way, considering Jessica was standing at the side of the bed, towering over me. God, she’d be perfect for it. This wasn’t a reaction I expected, nor an argument I would have with her.

“You think I have the strength to do something like that?” Jessica asked.

I rubbed my forehead, hiding my face in my hands and disguising my actions as wiping sweat and oil from my skin. My eyes couldn’t choose between staying open and dealing with Jessica’s frightening aura, or staying closed and trying to hide.

“Actually yes,” I finally said, dragging my palms down my face until they flicked off my prominent jawline.

Jessica shook her head. “Unbelievable.” I thought she would resume her pacing, but she walked over to the open bathroom doorway, then spun around, leaning on it with a single hand. “Okay, what makes you think I want to have the strength to do something like that?”

My head snapped to look at her, my eyes narrowing along with my eyebrows. “Oh, gee, I don’t know. Maybe because you love me? And you’d like to see my ahegao face, too?”

I’d seen her orgasm face many times. Including tonight, I’d ridden her until she had nothing left to squirt.

Jessica’s face tightened, and her lips pressed together tight enough to disappear. She marched forward, finger already raised and pointed at me. “Don’t you fucking dare bring love into this.”

My clothes were scattered about the master bedroom—a pair of black shorts near the nightstand on my right, plaid boxers hanging off the end of the bed, and my white T-shirt near the bathroom door. Her clothes were also scattered about, but those didn’t matter.

“Why shouldn’t I bring love into this?” I asked, now swinging my legs off the bed and standing. My shorts lay on the floor in front of me, so I picked them up first, then walked over and gathered my boxers and shirt.

“What are you doing?” Jessica asked, approaching me.

I put my boxers, shorts, and T-shirt back on, in that order. “I think it’s fair to say we’re done for tonight.”

Jessica scoffed a second time, and this one was clearly out of annoyance. She threw her arms wide and let them plop down at her sides. “So what, you’re just leaving?”

I walked to the bedroom door and stood in the doorway, turning to face her. “Yup. You got what you wanted, right?”

She clapped her hands together, something she did when she was fed up, mostly with me. “You must be the only guy on the fuckingplanetwho can’t orgasm from intercourse. God, it must suck to be you.”

I knew she meant that as an insult, but I nodded. “It is pretty lonely.”

Jessica yanked at her hair and approached, this time getting in my face. “Why do you have to be so complicated? A guy who fucks as good as you shouldn’t have this much baggage.”

I stared into her bright blue eyes. Even facing away from the two lamps at the rear wall, her eyes still shone with a brightness that was hard to match. “Maybe that’s why I’ve gone through so many girlfriends.”

“Jesus...” Jessica spun away from me, just for a second. Enough time for me to stare at her perky ass before spinning back around. She pointed at me, something I always hated, this close and from across the room. “If you can’t orgasm from fucking my soaked pussy, what makes you think you could orgasm on my—”

My hands clenched, and I interrupted her, “Don’t!”

“What? I can’t say it?”

“Not unless you fucking do it,” I hissed.

Jessica swayed her hips, motioning down her body with both hands. “You know, guys would line up for this body. So I have a better idea.” She gripped the edges of the doorframe, bursting into my space and making me lean back. Her breath and the warmth of her skin spread across my face. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.”