Vacant(12)

"We need to talk, Emily."

"Later." It's a bold statement on her part, but I can't deny her as her hand moves under my waistband. I'm ashamed to say that I've denied her touch for too long, and I don't want to wait for another second. Her lips move to mine, my mouth automatically opening. I want nothing more than to swallow her whole but settle for the caress of her tongue on mine.

Her fingers play under my pants, flirting with the idea of moving lower. My hands have been flat against the mattress until now, but I can't stop their journey to her arms, then back. Knowing she is touching me intimately gives me the courage to do the same. My hand floats to the crest of her ass, gliding across her flesh. She moans, giving me the courage to extend my caress to her bare flesh beneath her panties. My touch is tentative because I want to get this right.

"Yes," comes her strangled plea.

We continue kissing with nips and tugs of lips and teeth; my hand moves to the top of her thigh, then down to the dip where her ass meets her legs. She pushes toward me, her * opening to meet my waiting hand. I don't have to search far before encountering slick skin, eager for my attention. Her breath stutters as my fingers begin to move, stroking her.

Her hand moves to touch me, her thumb rubbing my head, spreading the pre-cum. Her touch feels so good that I move my mouth away from hers, fearful I'll bite her. Instead, my teeth graze her jaw then continue to move lower. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting more of her. I've imagined what her nipples look like - taste like. I want to know that my fantasies don't compare, even a small portion, to the reality. But this is not a fantasy. This is someone I care about, dream about, someone who matters and this has to be right.

I pull her tank down, exposing her breasts. My mouth immediately latches on, suckling and lapping at the darkened peak. My fingers massage while my tongue caresses, and in only a few seconds, Emily is panting and writhing. Her head falls to my chest as she stiffens in my arms. I've never felt so satisfied, despite not having my own release. But it doesn't matter, because I know that this is only the beginning. This is the first of many gifts I hope to give her.

After I make her get dressed completely, we sit at the kitchen table for a much needed discussion.

"So, you've never....?" I start.

"No."

While I'm deliriously happy Emily is a virgin, I also know the pain associated with the first time for a woman, and I'm not looking forward to inflicting that. I want to give her pleasure, not pain.

"What about you?" Emily asks followed by a big gush of air. "Never mind; that's a stupid question. Of course you have. I mean, look at you." I open my mouth to answer her, but she doesn't let me.

"No, tell me. I want to know. How many?"

And there lies the crux of my problem. I'm afraid to tell her, because if she knows, will she still trust me with her most precious gift?


I take a deep breath, steadying myself for Emily's backlash at my revelation.

"One." It's the truth. There's only been one, but that one isn't simple. I am not looking at her as I say this, so I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, hoping she doesn't hate me for what I'm about to tell her next.

"There was this girl, in high school, she was known to..." I trail off, hoping Emily gets the idea, but she just sits and stares at me. She's going to make me spell it out. "She was known as the go-to girl for sex. I was sixteen, angry and very curious." She's still watching me but begins to fidget. "She would do pretty much whatever, and I took advantage of that. It was emotionless and a means to an end. She let me take my frustrations out on her, Emily. No matter how angry, depressed, or lonely I was, she let me fill the void with her - in her." Her face scrunches, and I can see she's getting the idea. "It wasn't about love, or even lust, really. It was about me taking. There was no giving." I want to drive my point home with revealing the true debauchery in which I'd participated for two years, but I don't want Emily thinking I want her to do the depraved and experimental acts I'd once divulged in. That was a different time and a different me, but there was still an insecurity, despite my experience, I couldn't shake. "It was all about me, okay? I wasn't there to make her come."

"So, were you like..." I can see her trying to put all the pieces together. "You said you were angry. Were you angry...with her?"

I pause because I don't want to lie, but I don't want to tell the truth either. "Yes."

"Did you hurt her?"

I take a moment so I can say this right. Hurt can mean many things, but I think Emily means physically, so that's the hurt I respond to. "No. I never hurt her. It really was just sex, nothing else. I never hit her or forced her. She was always willing."

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as she continues to play with the placemat. "Did you like it?"

It's the question I've been waiting for. Emily wants to know if I want it to be like that with her. "When a boy has urges, there's little that will stop him from getting to the end. It's like how you fold clothes. How the shirt has to hang just right on the hanger, or the pants creased perfectly. You can't stop until everything is just right and you're satisfied." I can't believe I'm comparing sex to laundry. "But as a man, it's not about how the clothes are folded or hung. It's about the clothes being clean and smelling good. It's about the process, not the end result." Jesus Christ, this sounds stupid.