Hold My Hand While You Eat Me Out [Erotic Blog Post][Early Access]

Leaning against the brick wall of the arcade, I look you up and down, a small smirk barely hidden on my face as I meet your eyes.

I’ve known you had a crush on me all throughout high school, but our timing was never quite right. Back home from college for summer break, I hadn’t expected to actually find you outside the arcade we spent so much time in growing up, but here you are. Still in the same jacket, covered in patches, but filling your jeans out better than I remember.

“Come here often?”

It’s the same thing I said to you when we first met, you with your nose buried in a book, hunched over the library tables. I hadn’t known you were reading horror, and the ferocious and adorable yelp that erupted from your lips made me giggle so hard the librarian kicked me out.

You smile in recognition, and it lights up your face. Immediately you move toward me, enveloping me in your arms. You pull me tight, you feel so solid and real as I return your embrace and inhale your scent. You smell familiar. You smell like coming home.

We make our way inside the arcade, chasing the ghosts of our long-forgotten childhoods. Taking turns trying to beat each other’s high scores. Laughing and play-fighting and moving closer to our inevitable destination. The direction we’ve been moving for so many years.

So when you press your lips against mine after the arcade closes and we find ourselves outside again, it feels like the first breath of fresh air after a rainfall. The claustrophobia of adulthood subsides and all we are is this moment. All we are is tongues warring, hearts thumping, need erupting from somewhere deep down.

I need you. I need you more than anything. I tell you as much, entwining our fingers and pulling you toward my beat up station wagon in the parking lot. This is a small town, by this hour everyone has gone home to their families or their TV dinners and it feels as though you and I are the only people in the universe.

We crawl into the back - I’ve been on the road more often than not lately and I have a small mattress crammed in there. I reach over and pull the little curtains shut while you make quick work of my jeans, unzipping and yanking them down.

You pull my shirt up, exposing my tits, and push me facedown into the mattress. I don’t know what I was expecting, but when you press your face between my thighs from behind and inhale the scent of my throbbing pussy, all thought ceases. I am only instinct. I mewl and grind my hips against your face, begging you to taste me, to take my need onto your tongue and swallow it. You shush me and move your hands to my ass, spreading me open so you can look at me.

My body is on fire, I’m making sounds I’ve never heard myself make before. You lick and kiss and bite the soft flesh of my ass, giving me attention everywhere except where I need it most. When your lips finally meet mine, a shuddering moan fills the small space and I cry out when you part me with your tongue.

I can’t focus on anything else, only the rhythmic movement of your tongue on my most sensitive parts. My face is pressed into the mattress, muffling my screams of pleasure. You devour me as if you had been starving up until today, and I know your face is covered in my juices.

My back arches, my hips tilt, and you fuck me perfectly with your tongue, flicking across my clit and dipping inside me. Driving me insane with pleasure.

And in my need, I reach behind and fumble for your hand.

You must know what I wanted because you envelop my hand with yours and this becomes my only point of gravity as I’m flung farther and farther into the galaxy of pleasure you’re bringing. I’m so close, my hand squeezing yours, and when my orgasm tears through me it’s only your hand that keeps me tethered.

When I come back to myself, I feel wetness on my cheeks. I’ve been crying. I feel you brush a tear away with your fingers - I catch your hand and slip that finger into my mouth. Tasting the salt of my tears and the salt of your finger and this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to love.

I smile at you and move to return the favor, craving the taste of you, but you stop me with a gentle hand cupping my face.

“Later,” you say, and in your eyes I see a reflection of my own emotions.

“Later,” I agree, and lay down with you.

We hold each other, languidly exploring every part we can reach, safe and hidden away in the back of my car. In a world of our own. Together, the way we both wished we had been when we were younger.

Better late than never, especially when it comes to forever.