Valley Winter Loop

Excerpt

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“Would you like to come inside and maybe help with cleanup? I brought something special to drink.”

I nodded happily. It was a lot easier than trying to navigate the ‘should I try to kiss her good night on the front steps?’ question.

She closed the door behind me, holding a brown paper bag and smiling. Then she slowly, teasingly revealed another bottle of the silky barolo we finished at dinner. She must’ve paid for it when I used the restroom.

“Clever girl,” I said.

“I’m a woman, not a girl,” she said, but her eyes twinkled.

“It’s …”

“Jurassic Park, I know. I’m just messin’ with ya.”

The house was a disaster, with dishes, pots, and pans piled up in the sink and spilling onto the counters while stacks of books and papers littered the dining room and living room floors. Dust was everywhere and the bathroom and half-bath were filthy. I couldn’t help but think that “Clever girl” came from Total Recall first.

“I’ll change in the bedroom. You may change here,” she said. “Will you stay?”

“I’d love to,” I said, and she smiled, a grateful, yearning smile that warmed my heart.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, giggled, then twirled and practically skipped into the bedroom, the door closing behind her.

I removed my dress shoes, socks, pants, and underwear while putting on shorts, then removed my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and reached down to pick up my T-shirt when Becca emerged from the bedroom. Her simple dress must’ve been a lot less trouble to remove than my clothes. She stopped, staring at me, and took a halting breath. “Wow,” she whispered.

I resumed trying to put my shirt on and she said “Stop,” then walked to me as if on eggshells. She reached to touch my chest. I try to stay fit with strength work and cardio, and in the kind of running shape I’m still in, I’m all lean, rangy muscle. She moved her hand on me. “You have a great body, Chris.” She took me gently in her arms. When I moved to take her in mine she said “Don’t,” and moved herself against me, her hands on my ass, caressing and squeezing, seeming to relish me. “Mmmmmm,” she crooned, and kissed me on the lips, soft and gentle, then opened her eyes and looked into mine. My lips tingled, as did everything she’d touched. I wore skimpy running shorts that did nothing to conceal the erection growing under them.

She giggled again. “Somebody likes me,” then touched one index finger to the tip of my growing cock, which quickly got as hard and long as it’d ever been. She stared at it, mesmerized. “Wow,” she whispered again. I knew I was bigger than average but in that moment I felt like I was much more. I wondered how much experience she might’ve had with men and their various parts. She put a small hand on my shoulder, rubbed me a little, and licked her lips. “I’m … I … don’t know what …” She took a deep breath, removed her hand from my shoulder, and closed her eyes. “You may finish dressing now.” She wore similar but higher-cut shorts and a tight shirt with no bra that showed off her shallow, pointed breasts and tight belly. I’d wondered when I first saw her if she was plump, but no, that was taut muscle. She had a mole on her collarbone, a beauty mark if I’d ever seen one.

I quickly put on my T-shirt, then a pair of my usual athletic socks. She was also shoeless. She lightly ran one fingertip up the underside of my cock, which jounced in response, then crooked that finger to beckon me to the kitchen. “Open the bottle,” she said, pointing to a corkscrew on the counter.

She fetched two large-bowled glasses. I poured us each half a glass. I’d had more than half the bottle in the restaurant and three drinks is generally enough to put me past a mere buzz. I imagined that two drinks would do the same for her, and she did seem slightly tipsy. She clinked her glass to mine, her eyes in mine, and took a generous sip, letting the wine coat her lips. Then she lowered her glass, leaned forward and kissed me, letting me taste that wine. It was a gentle kiss, a simple sharing of touch and taste, not exactly chaste but promising nothing beyond simple, shared pleasure. Her pupils were dilated when she opened her eyes again. I felt like I was falling into her. She dipped a finger into her wine and held it to my lips. I took it inside and licked it with the tip of my tongue. She smiled as if she wasn’t quite in control of her response.

“We should clean,” I said. My voice was unsteady.

“You are like the exact opposite of everything my prof said to watch out for in a man.” Her voice was quiet. “I feel safe with you. I feel appreciated, and … sexy. You can’t know how good that feels for me right now.”

“I don’t know if I feel sexy with you, exactly, but you certainly are.”

She dipped another finger into her wine and this time put it between my lips. I licked it clean, forming a seal and gently sucking.

“Mmmmm,” she said, smiling. “Don’t I taste good?”

I took a long breath. I was trembling from arousal and from what I thought I needed to say next. “Becca, I’ve had a truly wonderful time with you today, and I want us to spend a lot more time together. I don’t want to spoil anything by moving too fast. Relationships can be so fragile, especially early, as I know too well.” I glanced down, where if anything I was even harder. “I … for tonight, can I just share your lovely … wine, and help you clean up? I don’t want to sleep over, not yet.”

Her face fell, just a little. “I guess I’ve watched too many supposedly romantic movies where the guy isn’t into the girl and doesn’t want to get physical with her, while she wants …”

“Frock dramas?”

She nodded, a question in her eyes.

“My Mom likes those. I’ve probably watched more than my share. I’m not like those guys, I promise.”

Becca put her hand on my cock through my shorts, then wrapped her small fingers around me. She squeezed, a challenge in her eyes. “Prove it. Shorts stay on.” Then she reached her other hand to one of mine and brought it to the apex of her thighs.

I slipped a finger under her shorts, moving the sewn-in panty to one side, and slipped it inside her. She was already wet. She gasped.

“Yes,” she said. “Make me happy. Make me come, just like this. I don’t care if you don’t want to move fast, I only care about … right … oh Chris, that’s good. I just want to come. I just want you to make me come.”

I slipped a second finger inside her and pushed both in and out slowly, stroking her sensitive entrance and deeper inside, the heel of my palm pressed against her pearl, then made that come-hither gesture more than one ex-girlfriend had been so happy with. Becca’s knees seemed to buckle. “Oh, yes Chris, that feels so good, my … oh, it’s been so long. It’s so …” She removed her hand from mine and placed it gently on my shoulder, against my neck, stroking me gently there. Lower, she was not so gentle; her surprisingly strong hand felt like a vise around me.

“May I …” I began.

She pushed down on my shoulder and I sank to my knees. She pulled the panties of her shorts aside. She was bare except for a small tufted stripe of hair, a landing strip, above. “Make me come, boy,” she said, and pulled me to her.

After, she had me carry her to the bed and lie behind her, the big spoon with my arm over her waist, my fingers just able to tickle her breasts if she wanted me to, but she told me “No touching. I just want your arm around me, and your warmth. You feel so nice.” I gently kissed the beauty mark on her collarbone, which made her shiver. She turned her head to kiss me softly on the lips, then relaxed in a seemingly conscious way and fell asleep in my arms. It took me a bit longer, wondering what I’d gotten myself into.