Truth Undressed (Exposed Series, #3) Page 4

  The good news is that you will always remember your first. The bad news is that you may momentarily feel like all the other sex you were having was a waste of time.

  But it wasn’t, and it will make you appreciate the earth shattering goodness all the more. After all, you can’t appreciate the highs properly until you’ve experienced the lows.

  Maybe you'll think orgasms remind you of powdered donuts because they're light and satisfying. Or perhaps they'll make you feel like you're being raged inside by stormy seas. Regardless, this event will mark a new chapter for you.

  So don’t be surprised if you get addicted to that feeling and the person that made you feel it. Chances are the craving will be mutual. If this happens, give yourself permission to enjoy every minute of it. Because when a young couple find their sexual stride, there is nothing more exciting.

  For most of us, our first partner isn’t our last. But they’re always unforgettable. And oftentimes, they act as a benchmark against which you’ll compare all your future partners.

  Irrespective of the circumstances, having your first orgasm is a massive victory. After all, reaching this sexual milestone means that you're comfortable with your partner in both your nakedness and your pursuit of pleasure. I imagine it’s a lot like achieving nirvana because to experience it you must forget yourself, your surroundings, and your insecurities entirely.

  With this trust in place, the most insane sexual pleasure you’ve ever known will descend on you like a thick, glorious fog. Usually, this fog is lust. However, it can be easily confused with love. Especially at a young age when intense new are flooding your body and making your hormones rage like horny monkeys.

  And that’s okay. Because love has many faces.

  Of course, when it comes to the lover that is responsible for your first orgasm, it will be years before you can get any objective perspective. Maybe you’ll discover that it really was love. But maybe you’ll discover that it was just pure, glorious lust.

  Whatever you decide it was or wasn’t doesn’t really matter though. The real reason you’ll cherish lover number two is because his companionship will not only raise your sexual confidence, but your standards, too.

  Chapter 9: Kate

  I was doing everything I could to avoid binging and purging. I knew if I started again I would be in trouble. Because Dawn wasn’t around to bail me out now. I had to help myself through it.

  So I kept thinking about what she said: that I was strong enough to do it on my own. That if I was strong enough to develop and live with the disease, I was strong enough to beat it. She said I should never take that for granted. She said that if her cancer had been the kind she could’ve fought that she would’ve fought every day, and that that’s what I had to do.

  So I was. I was fighting every day to occupy myself so I wouldn’t return to my default methods for handling stress. Like the stress of living at home again and worrying about what would happen after graduation. To me. To everybody. I mean, there was a lot on my plate. Figuratively.

  Fortunately, “my parents” hadn’t tried to control me at all since I found out that they were really just friendly people who took me in. So I put half a bottle of vodka in my bag and walked out the door without a word.

  Then I headed straight to Kevin’s.

  His whole family was at their grandparent’s lake house for the weekend, but he got out of it by saying he had to work on a school project.

  I was thrilled he invited me over. Especially since I was worried he would never want to see me again after I passed out at the fraternity house the last time he invited me out. But he never said a word about it. And when I apologized he told me not to be silly and that it happens to everyone.

  Which pretty much secured his spot as the nicest guy that ever expressed interest in me by far. And I wasn’t going to blow it. Especially when I would much rather blow him.

  Which isn’t to say I didn’t want to get hammered. Because I did. But right before I suggested we watch Family Guy and take a shot every time Brian said something clever, he offered to make some mixed drinks. Which was a lot classier.

  “It’s just that I can’t get too drunk,” he said. “At least not until I finish my art project. But you go ahead.”

  “You take art?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I just didn’t know.”

  “This may come as a surprise to you, but not everyone feels the need to take as many AP classes as they can fit in their schedule.”

  “Was that a jab?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s cool that you’re smart, but the rest of us non-nerds sometimes go for an easy A.”

  “I’m not a nerd.”

  “It’s not a bad thing,” he said. “It’s cool.”

  “Thanks then. I guess.”

  He handed me a vodka and Coke. “Wanna see my masterpiece?”

  “Of course,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “Whoa that’s a stiff one.” Oh my god I said stiff.

  “Is it too strong?” he asked. “I figured that was better than having to constantly fill up.”

  “No. It’s vodka. I mean, it’s nice.”

  He smiled.

  “It’s good,” I said. “Really.”

  “I’m trying to get you drunk.”

  “I was hoping, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  “What happens when I get drunk?” I asked, following him up the stairs to his room.

  “What doesn’t happen when you get drunk?”

  “Hilarious.”

  He opened the door to his room and I nearly got knocked down by the fresh smell of Febreeze. Besides the art supplies, though, there was nothing different about his room since the last time I was over. When we’d shared that epic kiss. It was like once something lay down in there, it didn’t get back up.

  “May I?” I asked, pointing to the easel by the window.

  “Please.”

  I walked around and stared at it. I wouldn’t have called it a masterpiece, but it wasn’t bad either. “It’s a blue horse woman?”

  “We’re supposed to be imitating one of the great masters.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s supposed to look like a Chagall.”

  “Well, I’m sure the only reason it doesn’t it because I’m not very familiar with his work.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  “It’s supposed to look like this.” He reached over towards his pillows and picked up a heavy, glossy-paged book I recognized from the downstairs coffee table. “Here.”

  I grabbed the open page and examined it beside his copy. Then I proceeded to make the types of pompous noises I imagined an art critic would make as I sipped my lethal drink. “Excellent use of light and blue. Your shading needs work, but I think you will be done in plenty of time for the exhibition.”

  “What a relief,” he said, smiling. “Seriously, though, I do think my biggest problem is the shading.”

  “I didn’t mean it. I was just joking.”

  “See if you can fix it,” he said. “You might find you have a natural talent.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “I just need a B.”

  “Surely, you’re shooting for an A? I mean, it’s art. Isn’t it totally subjective?”

  “I guess.”

  “So you’ve been getting A’s all semester?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But not because of my artistic talent.”

  “Are you sleeping with the teacher?” I smirked.

  He stepped up beside me and put his hands around my waist. “You think I’d get an A for that, do you?”

  I felt myself blushing. “I couldn’t possibly say.”

  He raised his eyebrows mischievously which made my insides blush.

  I don’t know what it was, but when he looked straight at me, I felt absolutely primal.

  “Actually, if you just pretend you’re really into art she gives you an A because she w
ants to encourage your passion.”

  “Of course she does.”

  “But here.” He picked up a dinner plate with different colored paints on it. The brush lay across the plate with its bristles anchored in a glob of blue paint. “See what you can do anyway.”

  “Okay.” I took another sip of my drink and then set it down on the table beside his bed. “As long as you’re sure I can’t do any harm.”

  “Just don’t fuck with the woman’s face,” he said. “It took me forever to get it to look that horsey.”

  “Okay.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed and watched me intently.

  “Can you hold up the book again?” I asked.

  He held it up the open page and I studied it, trying to ignore how his sexy mop of hair peaked over the top.

  Then I turned back to the easel and pursed my lips while I added tiny streaks of orange to the perimeter of the moon in the corner.

  “I like that,” he said. “That looks really good.”

  I swallowed. “Thanks.”

  He didn’t say anything for a while and just watched me while he sipped his drink. I was dying to know what he was thinking and after a lifetime- or what was probably about three minutes- he finally broke the silence. “You’re cute when you’re concentrating.”

  I laughed and the tension melted from my face. “Now there’s a line I’ve never heard before.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  As I turned back to the easel, Kevin stood up and got right behind me so he could look over my shoulder. The proximity of his body to mine made my pulse quicken. It reminded me of how we’d slept together on that dirty frat house futon, how I’d woken up with his arm over me. Then he leaned forward and whispered into my hair. “I wish you’d concentrate on me like that sometime.”

  I was so nervous I was worried I would burst out laughing, but I was determined to keep my cool. “Too bad you’re not my type.”

  “Is that so?” he asked, pressing himself against me.

  “Yeah. I’m really only interested in blue horse people.”

  He laughed.

  I felt him place something soft against my temple and stood still as he dragged it down my cheek.

  “There better not be paint on that brush,” I said.

  “And if there is?”

  “You better clean it off.”

  “What if I want to kiss it off instead?”

  I looked down at my side where he was dangling the dry brush next to my thigh. Then I put the plate of paints down on his desk and turned to face him. “That would be okay.”

  He kissed me before I could take a breath, pulling the small of my back toward him with one hand. His other hand slid up the back of my neck into my hair until he was cradling my head.

  His attention made me feel so safe and far away, and as soon as I focused on him, my pain began to dissipate. I couldn’t think of anything except how badly I wanted to forget everything and just make him feel good.

  He walked me backwards towards the bed and reached for the bottom of my shirt. I felt his fingers trail lightly against my skin as he pulled it off over my head.

  I lifted my legs onto the bed and scooted back to make room for him. As soon as he knelt in front of me, I pulled his face towards mine again and sunk my fingers deep into his curls. His hands ran up from my waist and found the clasp at the back of my bra. He released it so expertly I felt a gush in my underwear.

  When the straps slid from my shoulders, he tossed my bra to the side and cupped my breasts with his hands, dragging his thumbs across my soft skin until my nipples stood at attention.

  Then he lowered me down on his bed. I looked up at him while he took his shirt off. His chest was developed and muscular. It wasn’t until he slid down onto his side and propped his head up with his elbow that I realized I’d been holding my breath.

  “God you’re beautiful, Kate.”

  I smiled at him and wished the moment would last forever.

  Then he kissed me again with a contagious urgency and unzipped my jeans. I felt a lump in my throat as his hand slipped in between my pants and my underwear.

  His tongue kept swirling in my mouth as he pressed his fingertips against me. Then he started moving his fingers in a circular motion until my panties were soaked through. Just like I’d hoped he would so many times.

  I was about to reach for his fly when he rolled on top of me and started kissing my collarbone. Then he moved to my chest, flicking his tongue over my nipples and squeezing my breasts until my flesh bulged between his fingers. His every touch made my body flood with hot energy until I was aching for him.

  I never wanted anyone so bad in my life. I always thought foreplay was something adults did because they needed to do it to get excited. I had no idea that it could be so intense, that a man could drive me that crazy.

  I was throbbing by the time Kevin hooked his fingers in my pants. When he pulled them off, he took my underwear with them so that I was completely exposed. Then he stood at the foot of the bed and kept his eyes on me while he removed his own pants.

  As his thick cock sprang free from his boxers, I was filled with nervous anticipation. I watched him walk unselfconsciously to the bedside table and pull a condom out of the drawer.

  I swallowed and nodded.

  He tore open the package and I licked my lips as he slid it on, unable to do anything but stare at the swollen dick in his hands. I swear for a moment I was actually jealous of his hand because I wanted it to be me that was wrapped around him.

  He moved over me again and reached down to part my lips. It was a relief to be in such capable hands for a change. He was the first person that hadn’t thrust his penis at me like they were shooting darts in the dark and hoping for a bulls-eye.

  When I felt the tip of him press against me, I gasped. But when he pushed inside me a moment later, my mind when blank and I exhaled heavily. It was as if there wasn’t enough room for his cock and air in my body. And as he pushed deeper inside me, I could see he was enjoying it, too.

  “Go slow,” I whispered. “Please.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  I was scared of how big he was and worried that if he let loose he might tear me wide open. It took all my energy to stay squeezed around him. But my fears evaporated when he pushed all the way in and hit a spot at my very center, a spot no one had ever hit before. He looked back and forth between my eyes to make sure I was okay and pulled his hips back a little. Then he hit the spot again.

  He was so deep I couldn’t believe it. Every time he hit the spot my legs felt like they were both on fire and completely dead weight. It was the first time I’d ever genuinely had to groan during sex. I’d done it before as a courtesy in an effort to make the guy feel comfortable and like he was on the right track. Even if he wasn’t. I mean, I didn’t want to lay there like a stiff.

  But this time I really couldn’t help myself. It was as if the moaning had to come out to make room for the pleasure. And not only was I moaning with Kevin’s every thrust, but I was writhing from the thrill of being full of him.

  And then the heat started to build inside me until it became so concentrated that it was pulsing in waves. And the waves kept coming faster and faster until the vibrations were so intense it felt like someone had touched me between my legs with a tuning fork.

  “Don’t stop,” I said, my breath barely escaping. “Please, don’t stop.”

  Finally the feeling grew so strong that I felt the energy drain from every corner of my body until I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Then a long moan escaped my lips as I shook beneath him. And before I even stopped shaking he started to pound the spot inside me where it was so hot.

  It felt like he was splashing in the puddle where my pleasure had pooled. And just when I thought I was going to burst into a million pieces, he groaned and plunged inside me and stayed there.

  When he collapsed on top of me a moment later, I could still feel myself throbbing around him as
we panted together, his breath warm against my neck.

  And I had never felt so high.

  Chapter 10: Dawn

  Lover #3: The Older Man

  The older man is one of the most fun lovers a woman can have and an absolute must for those looking to improve their sexual prowess. Of course, as with any relationship, having equal expectations is often the difference between success and failure. So here’s what you need to know…

  He doesn’t want to marry you (he lost everything in the divorce). All he really wants to do is watch your eyes light up when you drink his expensive champagne and have some kinky, no strings attached sex. As long as you can be happy with this arrangement, you’ll have a grand old time.

  What’s the best part of sleeping with an older man?

  They give you hope. Why? Because sometimes when you're young, sleeping with guys your age can be disheartening and full of is this all there is moments.

  I suspect the reason for this is because inexperienced lovers are preoccupied with their own pleasure. Which isn’t surprising. After all, how can you guess at what makes someone else feel good if you’re still figuring out your own body’s quirks?

  Older lovers, however, know better. As a result, they tend to invest more time and energy into satisfying their partner. This is because they’ve reached sexual maturity. Which means they derive pleasure not just from receiving sexual attention but from giving it, too.

  So between a generally higher respect for women and more experience between the sheets, a lot can be learned from older men. Plus, they know what they like and they don’t apologize for it.

  And it’s important to expose yourself to this because sexual confidence is contagious.

  The first time I slept with an older man was on a trip to France. A teacher I had in college gave me the number for a friend of his in Paris. I thought he was just going to recommend a place to stay and maybe a good café or two, but he agreed to meet me for a drink.

  Not only was he a good twenty years older than I was with an accent to die for, but no one had ever made me feel sexier. That’s the other thing about older men. They really know how to charm a woman with come-ons and compliments that don’t feel cheap. And even though men young and old want the same thing at the end of the day, there’s no reason that getting there can’t be half the fun.