Leggo My Preggo Part Four
D2 left, and we were alone, FINALLY!!
Elway was so hard to wait for. She looked at me with unadulterated desire, and the appraisal of her gaze filled me- with confidence, with affirmation, with possibility.
I like the me that she saw, although I was eager to alter her impression of my innocence. I think her projection of my innocence heightened the attraction for her. I get it. Who doesn’t love a virgin? It just wasn’t me, exactly.
Clearly, I’d had plenty of sex. I had enough sex to get pregnant, so I was very obviously not all innocent.
There were so many things I hadn’t done though. I hadn’t done this, and I was so eager to do more of it.
She insisted on going slow, out of respect for me, and the innocence that wasn’t.It was so seductive. It was a perfect script of consideration, vulnerability, and control.
It was so strange and new to have sex done to me- I’d always been the one doing. I was the one performing pleasure, and initiating interest.
It was completely new to me to have her lock my eyes in hers, and hold my gaze sending chills through my nerves. She stepped toward me. She reached up and caressed my face, and I nuzzled into her palm, mouth agape, breath hot.
She told me how beautiful I was. WHAT?!?!?
She was the first person to use the term “glowing.” She talked with a sideways mouth that made her seem more sincere. She squinted her eyes and really emphasized how she saw me, how she wanted me to see myself.
It was so beautiful. WTF?
I maintained her gaze as tears started leaking down my cheeks. She kissed them away. She lay her gentle kisses all over my face as she held my face in her hands. She had to have been on her tippy-toes.
Her lips brushed lightly across my lips, our breath mingled in the tension between us. I tried to swallow with out moving, and it caught in my throat. She moved one hand down very slowly, to trace her thumb from my chin down my neck as I stretched my chin upward reflexively. She breathed on my neck as she held the side of my head and neck in her expert hand.
This was not the first time she’d made this move. This was a favorite move, and it elicited precisely the response she’d hoped. Maybe even better.
I released a slight moan which clearly encouraged her. She traced her tongue up the center of my neck to my chin, tilted my head forward, and kissed me deeply, slowly, tongues layering our ephemeral insides, alighting nerves and sending sparks through my wiring.
I didn’t want to come up for air, ever. I was wrong.
She took her lips away, and I gave the slightest moan of yearning for their return. She noticed. She hovered right beyond my lips, allowing hers to barely touch mine as she hovered near them.
It was the sweetest sensory storm. I tried to kiss her, to swiftly move my face forward to catch her lips again in mine, and she dodged me. She was enjoying the torment of it.
I allowed another begging moan, pleading with my eyes.
She devoured the energy of it. “Uh uh uh.” she denied me.
I was tingling, everywhere.
I reached for her, and she said, “in time,” and walked out the door.
I attempted to catch my breath as she walked to her van. She turned around when she got to it, to see if I was still watching. I was.
She grinned broadly, victoriously. To the victor would go the spoils.
Survivor Literacy 
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