The Ikea trip was uneventful; I bought some painting-ledges for the new booth I’m opening up for my art (the one market I’m at is opening a second location). I had assumed that The Pedant would want me to beeline right over and get what I needed as fast as possible since he was ostensibly only there to help me carry stuff, but we ended up browsing a bit, which felt rather pleasingly domestic. Lately, The Pedant – who lives with his parents – has been really keen to move out, and talks all the time about “when I get my own place,” hence his passing interest in Ikea’s lamps and organizers. This “when I get my own place” thing seems like kind of a pipe dream to me – he’s 32 and has never lived on his own before, plus he’s unemployed – but you never know.
When we got back to my place, I put my purchases inside and The Pedant stood in my doorway and kissed me goodbye: our first kiss of the day, since for whatever reason we don’t kiss in public like we used to. And the kiss goodbye rapidly became something much more passionate and extended and suddenly The Pedant was backing me up and closing the door behind us and peeling my shirt off over my head, all while barely breaking lip contact. It was hot, but – call me a cynic – it felt perhaps a bit…contrived, like The Pedant was staging a movie scene about A Man Overcome By Passion. Or maybe he actually felt overcome by passion but didn’t know how to express it without using movie tropes. At any rate, we undressed each other while standing and kissing in my hallway, and then made our way to the bed.
Many more makeouts happened, plus two extended bouts of cunnilingus (my body apparently can’t remember how to orgasm from oral sex anymore, but it felt good anyway). On his way back up to kiss me, The Pedant dragged his face up my belly: he was wiping the excess saliva off his face but disguising it as passionate nuzzling. Smooth*. 😛
I’m pretty sure The Pedant had his shit together this time, safe-sex-wise: when he was on top of me he did sometimes let his erection fall between my thighs, and I could tell he was aware it was there and enjoying the proximity, but there was no deliberate positioning like last time. Occasionally I would reach between us and pull his cock up so it was between our bellies again. He neither shifted so it would fall again nor carefully tried to keep it where it was – we just kept making out and his junk ended up whee it ended up. As I’ve mentioned before, I have iron self-control (as long as I set it in place before I get all turned on and stupefied) so the feel of the head of his cock brushing past my labia didn’t tempt me to pull him inside. But it did remind me of last time and it did turn me on. “You’d better fuck me, boy…” I said when I didn’t think I could take any more.
But The Pedant didn’t fuck me. He sat up and got out the Hitachi, instead – a substitution I was totally okay with. At first he did his thing of being a bit too hard and direct, but I explained that too much intensity too soon short-circuits me. He remembered where I usually like the vibrator positioned (this let’s-wail-on-Cowgirl’s-clit-to-try-to-“force”-an-orgasm thing was a relatively new habit of his) and moved it there. And he knows exactly how to nudge it rhythmically against me so the vibration seems to pulsate. I came in probably two minutes flat and as I did, I forced myself to look at him – kind of returning the favour of the eye contact he initiated during our sex last time. I don’t normally make eye contact when he (or anyone) is stimulating me because it’s distracting and I’m afraid it’ll throw me off, but since I was already coming, that was no longer a concern. So I opened my eyes for a moment and The Pedant’s face was just so…calm. Focused. Clinical, kind of. When I’m doing stuff to The Pedant and he’s about to come, I get all caught up in the urgency of it (which causes me to speed up, which he doesn’t like). But The Pedant looked like he was completely and expertly on top of the situation. He wasn’t getting caught up in my reactions; he was methodically doing what needed to be done. Calm clinical-ness with arousal/emotions underneath turns me right the fuck on**.
Perhaps sensing that I was looking at him, The Pedant glanced up from his steadily working hands for a moment. We locked eyes just long enough for him to see my brain begin to disintegrate in orgasm, and then the vulnerability became too much and I had to close my eyes. It was a good orgasm – the kind that doesn’t so much stop as become so intense that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I gestured for The Pedant to back off with the vibrator. He did, for moment, but then pressed it hard against me again, which made a crazy shriek of pleasure rip through me. My back arched so hard that my hips lifted right off the mattress for a second and then slammed back down. I have to say, though – as much as The Pedant seems to like sending walloping bolts of sensation through me like that, I don’t like it. I mean, the feeling itself was…kind of nice? But also borderline painful. And it seemed to cauterize my clit so that I couldn’t have any more orgasms for the time being. Overall, having one orgasm plus one short and overwhelming blast of sensation was not as fun or satisfying to me as having several orgasms would have been – even though the orgasm sensations aren’t as intense as when he mashed the Hitachi into me like that. It’s all about the buildup. I’ll talk to The Pedant about this and make sure he understands.
The sensations I did have left me all emotional, though – both tearful and filled with such violent energy that I was shaking. Had I been with someone with a masochistic streak, I’d’ve spent this energy on roughhousing and hurting him. As it was I just shook and pounded my fist on the mattress a few times and shook some more. The Pedant came up and lay on me. I think maybe I went to make eye contact and he deliberately kissed me or put his head in my neck to deflect it; I’ve noticed him do this before. He’s opening up to me a little bit lately but I guess there’s only so much connection he can handle at once.
We started making out again a little bit, but I’m sad to say it felt as though tending to my orgasm had stalled The Pedant’s momentum. I was hoping to fuck him while he was all wound up so he’d come pretty quickly and spectacularly like last time, but I sensed (completely correctly, as it turned out) that the time for that had passed.
He excused himself for a bathroom break. I went after he did, figuring I needed to prepare myself for the long haul. When I returned, The Pedant was lying on his back with his arms at his sides, projecting a palpable air of passivity, and I knew he was signalling that he wanted to be tied up and topped for a while. I got on top of him, kissed him, slowly stroked his cock hard again. I asked (just to be sure) if he wanted to be immobilized, and he gave a little whimper. Alrighty then.
I put the restraints on The Pedant, fastened them to the bed, put a condom on him and guided him into me, and right from the getgo it seemed like his enthusiasm (and possibly even his erection) was flagging. I wish I knew whether he allows me to go on at these times because he doesn’t want to admit he’s not functioning optimally, or because he somehow doesn’t realize it. Well, whatever, I gamely forged ahead. Ten or twenty minutes of fucking didn’t get him anywhere (he was making a steady stream of sounds, but their pitch and regularity told me that he was in a holding pattern and not anywhere near coming) but the sex had gotten me all riled up again, so I got out the Hitachi and made another one of my attempts at coming while riding The Pedant.
Five or ten minutes must have gone by with me leaned back on one arm, grinding my hips onto The Pedant and the Hitachi. I got so close a few times, but my body seemed to have forgotten how to release. Sweat began to roll down my back and ribs, which never happens to me – not even when I used to go to the gym and do cardio for an hour. At one point The Pedant tried to help by moving his hips in kind of a rolling motion – flexing alternate butt cheeks, basically – and that was so fucking hot I could’ve died. But it didn’t get me over the edge. Finally I gave up on the sex (The Pedant was totally soft by then, and clearly hadn’t been about to come anyway, so I don’t think this was rude) and lay beside him to finish getting myself off. Even then it was sort of difficult because I’d been so overstimulated last time, but lying down with my legs straight and slightly spread is my default orgasm position and it did the trick. The Pedant’s wrists and ankles were still secured to the bed, but one of my ankles was flung over his and he affectionately brushed his foot back and forth against mine as I got myself off – basically showing his support in the only way he was physically able at the time. D’awwwww.
After I’d come, The Pedant smiled and said, “Satisfied?”
I told him no, not really; he turns me on to a point where no number of orgasms can make those feelings go away. And I said that on that day in particular, my body just didn’t have the capacity for all the orgasms I wanted; I hadn’t stopped getting myself off because I was done orgasming, I’d stopped because my clitoris hurt and my stomach and leg muscles were exhausted.
I climbed back on top of The Pedant – my legs far more shaky and sore than I’d realized – and kissed his mouth and chest and nipples and hipbones until he began to get hard again. I asked “Do you want my hand?” and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. And so began an epic hand job that spanned possibly as long as two hours and saw me go from lying on one side of him to kneeling between his legs to lying on his other side to kneeling between his legs again. He seemed to get to the edge a few times, but mostly just made his little “holding pattern” noises. I consciously forced myself to go slower than I usually would – even when The Pedant seemed to be getting close – and he breathily whispered “Yes…yes…” to let me know I was doing just what he needed. I think that’s the first time he’s given me any distinct positive feedback. It was good to know I was doing well, and also (needless to say) super hot to hear him try to articulate words while he was all turned on and moaning and stuff. RAWR.
Finally, I was kneeling between The Pedant’s thighs and slowly jerking him with one hand while using the other to play with his taint and asshole a little bit, which was getting a surprisingly strong reaction from him. His moans began to escalate and his body tensed and the head of his cock began to swell and he moaned a little harder every time I ran my slippery lubed fingers behind his balls and then…
…He whispered, “You can penetrate me if you want.”
OH MY GOD.
I briefly foraged through the messy bedroom for my box of nitrile gloves, decided it was a lost cause, and slipped a condom on my index finger instead. Soon I was lubed up and buried inside The Pedant, gently but firmly probing his prostate as I continued stroking him with the other hand. The internal stimulation seemed to get him going, and once again he seemed to get right up to the edge…but not quite over.
I have this thing I do where I push the knuckle of my thumb against a guy’s taint while doing a “come hither” motion inside him – massaging a hunk of his prostate between finger and thumb, basically, and synching each squeeze to the downstroke of the hand job – and this seemed to get The Pedant to the edge yet again, but still not over. Often, newbies to anal play find the penetration really stimulating but kind of confusing/distracting at the same time (actually, it’s not even newbies; Minx often lost his erection when I started playing with his prostate, even though it felt incredibly good to him. It’s like his body wanted either a penile orgasm or a prostate orgasm but had no idea how to combine the two kinds of stimulation). I figured that’s what was happening here. I tried keeping my ass-hand still so The Pedant could kind of forget it was there (with the idea of mashing his prostate just as he began to come) but no dice. His erection began to flag and he asked me to withdraw, which I did.
He wanted me to keep going with the hand job, though, so I did that – even though my fingers were starting to prune from so much contact with lube (and to think I felt a little guilty earlier when he went down on me for five or ten minutes at a time with no “results”…jeez).
But here’s a crazy and totally unprecedented thing: as I continued stroking his cock, The Pedant began to talk. I can only assume he was trying to get himself closer to coming by voicing his thoughts to make them more real and maybe play off my reactions. He’s never done that before, though, and indeed often doesn’t really seem capable of stringing together coherent thoughts when he’s aroused.
“Did you like it when I came inside you last time?” he murmured, and there was no doubt he was talking about the unprotected sex, not the other time that visit when we fucked.
“Yes,” I said softly, my voice cracking a little bit. “So much.” The words felt frustratingly watered-down and inaccurate, but I didn’t have any better ones to describe how that experience made me feel.
“Pretty soon we’ll be able to do that again. I’ll be able to feel you wrapped around me…you’ll be able to feel me coming deep inside you…”
For years now I’ve wanted a partner to be able to voice his fantasies to me like this. Usually I was the one asking leading questions, hoping to start a sexy conversation. And yet now I was suddenly stricken with an attack of shyness and could barely reply. I just felt too vulnerable. I just gave a tiny little moan and said “yes” and continued working The Pedant with my hand.
“Do you like the idea of me staying over for a few days so you can do whatever you want with me?” He’s actually done that before, but it’s clear he was talking about a hypothetical condom-free future.
“Very much,” I managed to say, fighting back my reticence and trying to rise to the occasion. “I could tie you down for an entire day, hop on whenever I wanted…” that earned me some excellent squirming and gasping. “…And you’d be able to really feel just how wet you make me.”
And then The Pedant really started riffing and (this was fascinating, and seems like a really good sign) he talks about sex using pretty much the exact words I do (except I don’t say “pussy”). We haven’t done a lot of sexy talk, mind you. He wasn’t imitating things he’s heard me say. He was using his own words, and they just happened to be my words, too. I wish I could have tape recorded what he actually said so I could memorize it and know it word for word. Instead I’ll have to piece it together from memory. His free-associating went something like:
“I love the way my cock feels when I slide slowly inside you…I love the feel of your pussy wrapped around me…I love the way you kiss my nipples to get me hard…I love the way you tie me down, swing your leg over my body and sliiiide down around me…I love the way you kiss me and smother my moans with your mouth as I shudder inside you…”
His words gave me a total braingasm. You don’t even know. And also, can I just say, I’ve been wanting to gush to The Pedant lately about all the things he does that I love, too – because I feel like I love him and I’m not quite ready to say so outright. I’m not going to assume that this is what’s happening with The Pedant, but at the very least he’s opening up to me and being mushier with his words, which is a very nice thing whether he secretly loves me or actually just loves the sex.
The sex-talk tapered off, and The Pedant still hadn’t come. By this point he was only even half-hard; the hand job was getting difficult because his penis would bend/collapse on each downstroke. I asked if he wanted to take a break, and I’m pretty sure he just barely shook his head no; at any rate, he didn’t indicate a yes in any way. But then two minutes later he was like “I think I need a break” as if I hadn’t said anything. *Facepalm.*
I came up and kissed him; he asked me to let him out of the restraints, so I freed his arms but left his legs restrained for the time being because I wanted to stay on top of him (I’m pretty sure “let me out” usually means “my arms are getting sore from being stretched up at this angle” anyway. His legs aren’t in an uncomfortable position so they can stay). As soon as his hands were freed, he embraced me and stroked my back. We lay like that for a while.
Then I raised myself up to look in his face and said “Well. Thank you for letting me inside you.” And The Pedant quite definitely pushed my head down into his neck because he felt too vulnerable or embarrassed to meet my gaze. It was kind of hot, actually; I was pretty sure he offered his ass to me as an act of trust and a way of furthering our intimacy, and his shyness seems to confirm this. He’s a fairly confident and experimental person and I think if the assplay had just been “let’s try this again and see what it feels like” then he wouldn’t have been weird about it afterward.
Once my face was safely buried in the crook of his neck, The Pedant said “You’re welcome” and indicated that he offered the assplay only because he knew I would like it, and that (like the times he tried it with other partners in the past) it still doesn’t do much for him. Which…hmm. I don’t want to tell The Pedant how his body works or anything, but it really seemed like he was loving the external anal stimulation I was giving him and, naturally enough, wanted to go further and see if inside ended up being just as good. I don’t think his motives were purely altruistic, is what I’m saying. And it really seemed like my ministrations were helping him get off, at least at first.
Well, whatever. He’s told me his stance, so I won’t mention the idea of penetrating him again***. It’d be funny if he started offering it all the time “for my benefit,” though.
The Pedant asked what I was doing the next day (code for “I’d like to spend the night if that’s compatible with your plans”). That was a difficult one for me because I had no concrete, going-places-and-seeing-people plans, just some stuff I hoped to get done around the house (and could easily postpone). And I was tempted to say yes to The Pedant’s tacit offer, just because it was so flattering that he wanted this time with me and so reassuring that he really does like me. But as smitten as I am with this boy, a Monday/Tuesday overnight and a Thursday/Friday overnight in the same week is just too much together-time. So I told him I really should get some painting done, and he said that he really should get this writing sample thingy done (some blog wants to maybe give him a job reviewing stuff, or something?) and it was decided that it was best if he went home.
As The Pedant got dressed, I had him confirm for me that the anal play really wasn’t that appealing to him; he reiterated that it wasn’t and he only did it for my benefit. I said, “Awwwwww…you took one for the team!” and he gave me his hot, infuriating smirk and said “Unless you’re counting Bastardcat for some odd reason, I don’t think you alone constitute a ‘team’.” In retrospect I wish I’d said that no, The Pedant and I are the team – just to kinda suss out his reaction. But I didn’t think of that, and instead we ended up going off on a tangent about how weird it would be if Bastardcat were emotionally invested in me getting anal play, and how one would make that happen (The Pedant suggested giving Bastardcat a treat every time I penetrate a guy; in theory, Bastardcat would eventually start hanging around during sexytimes, rooting for me to stick it to my partner so he could get a delicious meaty snack).
I walked him down to the front door of my building, as usual, and we kissed and said “See you Thursday” and he left.
Overall, I felt more at ease with him this time around because of our talk over lunch; but oddly, I kind of feel like he felt more at ease with me, too. Could it be that he’s smitten with me and looking for indications that I feel the same way – and my need to not be a “secret” is one of those indications? Seriously – seriously – he seems to be opening up to me so much all of a sudden, what with making eye contact during sex and initiating dirty talk and, now, inviting me inside him. Plus using the word “love” so freely, albeit in the context of telling me his favourite sexual things about me. All this, plus schlepping over to Ikea with me and offering to help clean my apartment and being even more post-coitally snuggly than usual lately.
And! I just noticed that he commented on and “liked” a bunch of stuff on my Facebook profile today. Not stuff that would’ve been in his feed; some of these things, I’d posted days ago. So he’s clearly thinking about me and looking all through my profile to see what I’ve been up to.
So…I know the only person who can tell me what The Pedant’s feelings are is The Pedant. I get that. But let me ask you guys…it does look like he has feelings for me, right? Like, if I get up the nerve to ask him if he has mushy feelings and he pulls a “Pfffft! No! Why would you even think that?” it’s him being a dumbass, not me, right? Because, dammit, his behaviour really seems like the behaviour of a smitten boy to me. Am I wrong?
*I mock, but this method probably was better than if he’d sat up and said “Sorry, hold on…wait just a minute…” while rubbing his face all over his forearms. Or the sheets.
**Ask me about my crush on pretty much every Vulcan character on Star Trek ever!
***I never mentioned it in the first place, really. The Pedant told me he was disinterested in anal play long before we were ever having sex, so I didn’t broach the idea with him once we were fucking. I just assumed it was totally off the table. Which makes it even sweeter that he would offer it to me right out of the blue like that. D’awww – he remembered! 😀