In the few weeks that I have known Ryan, I have experienced many different kinds of kisses from him. He could kiss sweet, hot, sensual, demanding, light, or companionable. Fine by me; I would take them all. I don't choose favorites here, people. I'm an equal-opportunity Ryan-kisser.

But my first kiss with him as "official" boyfriend-and-girlfriend? He took the opportunity to introduce me to a new kind of kiss that, had I imagined it before, I would have told you that it only existed in an alternate universe.

It didn't.

He got out of his chair on the terrace and kneeled between my thighs, his bare, fuck me, bare, muscly, warm chest, right there for me like some sort of boy banquet, and his blue flowered swim trunks dropping below his hip bones. My thighs parted biblically to let him in. Wrapping his arms low around my waist, he pulled me forward by my hips, and he pressed his hardening oh-boy into my hoo-ha. And he stayed there, his arms around me, his warmth pressed to me, on his knees before me, looking up at me. I responded by pulling him even closer, my arms around his neck, my hands grazing the nape of his neck, loving the way his hair curled there.

Yeah, this was a fucking awesome place to be, in the arms of a Sun God on a sunny morning.

But he made it even better by observing me for a moment. A beat. Just looking at me, accepting me, letting me be there, with him, in his arms. I looked back at him and then started reviewing his boyish freckles, his cheekbones, his handsome jaw. As I gazed at his mouth, he leaned in, and brushed his full lips against mine, first to the right, then to the left, and then pressed in the middle, a full-lipped kiss, giving me him, and all of him.

I parted my lips and his tongue found mine, joining together, enjoying being with each other, enjoying kissing, enjoying the connection of our warm, moist mouths and our bodies. He leaned into me, I leaned into him. We were equal participants in an utterly active kiss. We took our time, licking the inside of each other's mouths, gently probing, then building the kiss so it was stronger and stronger. With this kiss, I gave him me, and he gave me him, and it was beautiful.

He left my mouth and started leaving open kisses down my chin, straight down my neck, on the most vulnerable part of my throat, while I kissed his nose, his forehead, the top of his head, as he made his way down. Then he whispered against my neck, "come to bed."

I nodded.

He wrapped my legs around his waist and easily got to his feet, me with all four limbs wrapped around him like a full-frontal baby monkey.

"Do you work out?" I demanded, as he walked me across the enormous full-windowed, sunny room to his big, comfy bed, his face buried in my neck.

"Sometimes. If I can't get a session in."

"Session?" I asked.

"Surfing session," he said, with a low chuckle. "This kind of session doesn't count as exercise. It counts as pleasure."

He planted me in the bed and leaned over to take off my t-shirt.

But I had a different idea. I pushed him back with my hand.

"Wait, Ryan."

He regarded me, confused.

"Can I try something?"

"What?" he asked warily, his head cocked, his eyebrows coming together.

I heard the waves crash outside.

I started, hesitantly, "Ryan, you're always Mr. In-Charge in the bedroom, but you know, I haven't really had a chance to explore your body—"

"I'm all yours," he interrupted.

I'm all yours.

He was all mine.

All mine.

Mine.

"I want to return the favor of learning your body really, really well."

"Do your worst," he said hoarsely. "Where do you want me?"

Now, I hadn't really thought this through. As bossy as he normally was, down deep, he showed me repeatedly that he was a giver. He didn't take anything that was not his to take. But now that he was letting me have my way with him, whatever I wanted, there was simply too much territory to choose from. I mean, with these options, where do you begin to explore? I couldn't decide where to start.

Okay, actually I could.

He was standing by the bed, so I decided that I wanted him to stay there, standing. I loved how he towered over me. I got up off of the bed and reached for the hem of my surfer-shirt sleepwear and slowly pulled it over my head so I was wearing nothing but my satin, sage green panties and a smile. Now it was my turn to prowl. I walked around him, not touching him, just looking him up and down. He was so tall, so muscular, so fine.

I decided to start my investigation at his back. He had these two attractive indentations, like dimples, in his lower back, above his ass. Since he normally didn't have his back to me, I didn't often get to inspect them, and I decided that they needed a closer review. With my knuckle, I grazed one, then the other, and watched as his muscles jumped below his skin. Then I used my knuckle to gently trail up his spine, getting to know each vertebrae of his perfect back. I stopped my hand at the nape of his neck, and went up on my tiptoes, sticking out my tongue like a point, and then I licked and sucked my way back down his backbone, as I feathered my hands out over his shoulder muscles, wings, and then down his lean sides to his waist. As I did this, I could feel him straining to stay still, straining to breathe, straining to keep his hands at his side, his body in check.

So. This turned me on.

Yeah.  

Understatement.

Watching this big handsome guy keep it in check for me to have my way with him made my panties fucking soaked.

I'm a particular fan of the muscles that covered his hips and dipped into each side below his waist, leading to the V in the front. They deserved attention and I lightly traced my fingers over his cut muscle, then reached barely inside the waistband of his low-slung board shorts, one finger on each side of his, and brought my hands together to the middle of his back, feeling the warmth of his body.

Playing with him, I lazily kept one hand just barely inside his waistband, as I moved his arm so that I could duck under it without losing the connection with his shorts, as I moved to his front. I was greeted with his erection meeting my fingers, just the tip of it, so I touched it, just a graze, and went on by, stopping at the fastening on his shorts.

My fingers traced the soft hair of his happy trail, widening my fingers out, going up, headed to his belly button.

I was sure he thought I was going the wrong direction.

I inserted my tongue in his belly button, while following what I could see of his V with my fingers.

He groaned loudly.

I traced my tongue up from his belly button, paying particular attention to his washboard waist, each part of his six pack gently defined as he breathed roughly. My hands were on his hips, then moved inward, feeling every nook and cranny of his abdominal muscles. I made my way slowly up his torso, stopping on his nipple to suck it and lick it until it was hard. Then my mouth made its way to the other one, repeating the sucking, the licking, until it, too, was hard. He moaned and let out a breath, seemingly almost unable to keep his hands still. Then, I reached up on my tippy toes and sucked on his neck, my hands reaching up to the top of his shoulders. My finger tips then trailed lightly down his arms, stopping to really feel his biceps, and his veiny forearms. Then I clasped his hands.

I took a step back, holding both of his hands in mine, and surveyed him.

"What?" he asked, choking it out.

"You are a fine specimen of man, Ryan Fielding."

He gave me a lopsided grin.

"You're killing me, here, Movie Star, but it's a pretty fucking great death. Are you going to kill me now?"

"Nope. More torture first."

I let go of his hands and reached for the fastening of his shorts, undoing it and easing it down his body, feeling his hard ass as I let it down, bending my body. His erection sprung free right by my lips.

So.

His cock.

It was beautiful, yes. It was enticing, yes. It had given me a bunch of orgasms, yes.

But I still did not feel like I knew it. Its ways were still a mystery to me.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah."

"I need to work up the nerve to, uh, you know, kiss you here."

"It's okay, Amelia."

"I've never done it before."

"It's okay, Amelia," he repeated. "I'll wait until you're ready. I'm not going to force you to do anything."

"I want to, I want to try, uh, well, but I'm scared."

"Amelia?"

"Yeah."

"You really are killing me now."

"Sorry. I don't mean to kill the moment. I'm trying to get over my neuroses. Are you disappointed?"

"Truth?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a guy. I always want a blow job. But I'm not going to push it on you."

"Can I try this?" I reached out and tentatively touched his cock. He shuddered and nodded, biting his lower lip.

"Fuck yeah, baby."

Again, I could hear the waves crashing outside, in and out of my consciousness.

Now, yes, I've touched a penis before. But before, it felt almost like an obligation. Like it was something that was expected of me or like something I had to do.

But with Ryan, it's something I wanted to do. For him, it's a sensual organ. It gives him pleasure and for all the pleasure he gives me, I really wanted to return the favor.

It also helps that his cock was astonishingly attractive. I mean, it belonged in a museum or something.

But I just couldn't do a blow job. Not yet. I didn't know why. I just...couldn't.

A hand job, though...

I touched his cock and gently stroked it up and down, first with my finger tips, noticing the vein on the underside, noticing the lip of it against the cock head, then clasping it in my hand. It was so long, I had no idea how I would ever get that thing in my mouth if I ever decided to take him that way. But that was for another day.

He moaned again

Moving on, I bravely took my other hand and felt his balls, gently touching them, caressing them, and this made him hiss. Then I stroked his cock, up and down, up and down, with one hand, with increasing pressure and increasing speed, and he looked down at me, eyes blazing, and growled, "Enough" and picked me up by my armpits and threw me on the bed.

Guess he was done with me being in charge.

He tore off my panties and fell over my body, propping himself up on his elbows, eyes on mine.

"Your turn," he said.

He kissed my lips, hard, so hard, then went down my body with his mouth, taking one nipple in his mouth and tweaking it, hard, so hard that I gasped, but the bite felt so good, and then he took the other one in his mouth and tweaked it so that the hard suck felt oh so good and then he bit his way down my side, little nibbles that tickled, until he reached my hips. While leaning on one side of me, he took his other hand and ran it up my inner thigh to the, uh, promised land, where he found me soaking wet.

Yeah.

This whole foreplay thing seemed to work.

He figured this out, too, saying, "Fuck me, Amelia, you're so wet," (I wasn't going to fault him for being obvious while we were in this position) and he started to stroke me with his big hands. He had his thumb pressing on my clit, his middle finger fucking me, reaching up, curving inside of me, so that I almost exploded from the pleasure. His fourth finger reached behind, and up towards super naughty land.

This was what I needed.

He finger fucked me, not stopping, not taking a break, until I came, hard.

The waves crashed outside, too.

He kept going, kept moving through my orgasm, extending it, letting me shudder and shake and convulse, until I quieted down.

But this was temporary.

"Got any more in you?" he asked, and I had no idea how to respond.

"Let's see," he said, and he kept at it, massaging my clit, massaging my g-spot, massaging that no-man's land (or no-woman's land) between my pussy and my no-go area and, confident bastard, I came again.

The waves crashed outside, too.

No, I was not complaining about two orgasms in a row in the morning from my brand-new boyfriend.

My brain flooded with pleasure, but in this light room, with the sunlight streaming in, I went dark, focusing only on the sensation of release from so much build up.

Ryan maneuvered over me to the bedside table and opened a drawer, pulling out a condom. He ripped it open, threw the wrapper on the floor, sheathed himself, and paused at the entrance of my pussy.

"I love the noise you make when you slide into me," I whispered. "It's utter contentment. Pleasure. Heart stopping satisfaction. Like there is no place you'd rather be."

"That's because there isn't," he whispered back, and slid his cock into me.

No matter that we had done this before, it still felt new. He just filled me up, there is no other way of explaining it. It was such a rush of pleasure to have him fully seated in me, my slick pussy cradling his hard cock, his hard muscles pressed against my soft breasts.

He looked down at me, shook his head with a smile, and buried his face in my neck.

And then he started to move.

He thrust into me, building me up, pleasure after pleasure, but then he stopped, and rolled over.

"You, on top," he commanded.

Now, this wasn't on any list of mine, as far as to do or not to do, but it made me pause for some reason.

Still neurotic, people.  I'm trying, but still.

What to do?

"Amelia, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to be an idiot, but I'm not totally sure what to do up here."

He smiled. "Okay, I'll guide you. First, pull your body up my cock, fuck yeah, like that, okay, now down, fuck."

I moved my body up and down on his, my knees to the side, my boobs jiggling.

"Ryan, I feel like I'm all jiggly up here."

"That's the point, Movie Star, you're so fucking sexy riding me, titties bouncing, just let go. Let go," he commanded.

Okay. If he wanted to see titties bouncing, I think I could give that to him.

I started to really move, to follow his command to let myself go, breasts bouncing, riding his cock, his arms snaking out and holding my soft, full breasts. It was starting to feel safe for me to be uninhibited with him. I looked down at him, and he was totally enjoying the ride.

This was fun. It was exciting to turn him on. It fucking turned me on. It was sexy. I started experimenting with different angles, different speeds, changing directions often, and staying in a particular place whenever I would hear his breath speed up.

Then, suddenly, he flipped us over again, him on top, me on the bottom. He pulled back, grabbed my hips, pressing me to turn onto my stomach, and said in my ear, "now is the time for true doggy style, Amelia, think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," I breathed, not able to do, say, or think anything else.

"Brace your hands against the headboard," he ordered. He pulled my hips back, as I went on my knees and stretched out to the bed frame, and, frankly, I got into it. I gave him my ass, arching my back, and he thrust into me from behind.

Oh my fucking word.

This was awesome.

He thrust into me, first leaning back, and then he moved and bent over my back, his hand finding my clit, and told me, "you're going to come again, Amelia."

The thrusting, the stimulation, the angle, his orders. He kept at me, a pounding rhythm, until my vaginal muscles clenched and I let go, screaming like I had never screamed before. He massaged my clit through the orgasm, thrusting, prolonging it, then, when I was done, he thrust once, twice, three times, then bit my shoulder and collapsed into me, pressing both of us into the bed, breathing hard.