He did it like he kissed me on the couch, gentle, sweet, unhurried, kissing me tender but deep sometimes, his mouth and tongue working my neck other times and I knew he paid attention, he listened, he felt and he went faster, harder but only when I was ready. I was holding him close, tight, my hand in his hair, his tongue in my mouth, his c**k driving deep, when it started to come over me. Shock pierced my system as it occurred to me I was about to have an orgasm just with a man moving inside me.

Then it happened, my head shot back, my limbs convulsed and my lips whispered, “Mitch, baby,” and I had an orgasm just with a man moving inside me and that man being Mitch, it was the best, sweetest, longest orgasm in my life.

Oh God.

God.

Perfect.

My neck righted and I felt him still moving inside me, fast, hard, deep, God, gorgeous, as my eyes opened and I saw his on me. His face was dark, his eyes intense, his breath labored. His forearm moved up an inch so his fingers drove into my hair then fisted, pushing up, so my head went up and his mouth crushed down on mine just as his hand at my ass pulled up hard. He drove deeper, harder, faster and I whimpered into his mouth as his tongue worked mine and his c**k worked me.

He stopped kissing me and growled against my lips, “If it’s too much, baby, you gotta –”

“Don’t stop,” I begged because my limbs were tensing, my sex was spasming. “Don’t stop, Mitch, baby, please.”

He didn’t stop, his mouth crushed down on mine again, his hand at my ass hauled me up further to take him even deeper. It was then that I had the second best, sweetest, far more intense (but not as long) orgasm in my life. It was beyond perfect because, as I cried out into Mitch’s mouth, he groaned into mine as he buried himself to the root and stayed planted.

It took some time to come down because I didn’t push it. I did it savoring his weight, his fingers in my hair, his lips moving tenderly on mine, his hand at my ass gliding up and becoming an arm wrapped possessively around the top of my hips.

His lips slid across my cheek and to my ear and his arm around my h*ps gave me a squeeze when he asked in a whisper, “How’s the real world feel this mornin’, baby?”

My arms and legs tensed, his head came up and I saw his unbelievably sexy, satisfied face and his eyes warmer and gentler and more beautiful than I’d ever seen them (and that was saying something).

Seeing that, I answered, I did it openly, honestly, exposing everything and I did it by grinning.

He grinned back.

He dipped his head, touched his mouth to mine in a light kiss then said against it, “Don’t move.”

After that, he carefully slid out, rolled off me and out of bed, flicking the covers over me and I blinked at the ceiling as I closed my legs. I turned to my side pulling my knees up, tucking my hands under my cheek on the pillow. I caught just a glimpse of his contoured back and his beautiful behind in his pajama bottoms before he disappeared in the bathroom.

Unlike what everyone thought of me in Iowa, I left that small town a virgin. It wasn’t until I was twenty and after three months of dating a guy in Denver that I gave it up.

This did not go well mostly because sex was messed up in my head due to my mother’s antics, her f**k buddies trying it on with me and the boys in high school being jerks. Unfortunately, my boyfriend at the time was also young. He was very good-looking (definite Ten material, looks-wise, I would find out after giving him my virginity that he was more like a One Point Five otherwise). He’d also invested three months in his score and to say he was disappointed and insensitive would have been an understatement. He was pissed, he said some not very nice things while still in my bed, he left and I never heard from him again.

Needless to say, after that, I wasn’t fired up to jump in the sack again and it wasn’t until Destry that I gave it another go.

Destry was, at first, very patient and this was one of the reasons I stayed with him even though, most other times, he was a jerk. He was older than my first boyfriend and seemed to enjoy coaxing a response from me. Considering my first experience was shit, it took him even longer to get me into his bed (four and a half months). Once there, he again was patient, seemingly understanding and seemingly enjoyed being my teacher which was another reason why I stayed with him. I was hesitant to the point of shy but that didn’t mean I didn’t learn from Destry or enjoy what we did. I did. I just didn’t learn fast enough.

Therefore, he lost patience with being my teacher when my responses didn’t satisfy him or I wasn’t up for trying new things that made me uncomfortable.

He broke up with me before he broke through.

After that, I never thought about it much. It wasn’t that sex freaked me out it was just that I didn’t have anyone in my life so I didn’t need to think about it.

It was now I knew why my responses to Destry weren’t satisfactory.

Because Destry was not only not a good teacher, he was shit in bed.

And I knew this because Mitch was not shit in bed. Mitch was gentle and intuitive. Mitch didn’t put effort into sex, he just naturally guided the flow and where he guided it was freaking sensational.

Which meant he didn’t even have to try to teach me. I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to try. With Mitch guiding me, obviously, it came effortlessly and I knew this because I came effortlessly.

Twice.

Twice!

All this meant what we just shared was amazing. It was beautiful. And it was perfect.

It was so amazing, beautiful and perfect, for the first time in my life, I got stuck in the real world, stuck in Mitch’s World. I liked it there a whole lot so I closed my eyes and grinned.

Then my eyes flew open and my grin faded.

My first boyfriend, I made him wait three months. Destry, four and a half.

Mitch…

I counted it down.

Oh God!

We’d only had our first bona fide, official date the night before.

And I’d given it up the next day!

Ohmigod!

Despair surged through me, washing out my after great sex with Mitch glow and I heard the toilet flush as I rolled, reached and tagged my nightie off the floor. I was sitting up and struggling with pulling it on when I felt the bed move because Mitch was climbing in it.

Oh God.

I had my back to him and was pulling my nightie down to my waist when his arm hooked around that waist and I was going backwards.

I collided with the hard wall of his chest, his mouth went to my ear and he fell to the side, taking me with him while saying, “Waste of time, sweetheart. I got the day off, Penny’s takin’ the kids to school. We have until we pick them up to have fun and we’re gonna take that time to have fun and, as cute as that nightie is, it no longer factors.” We’d hit the mattress and pillows and his other arm curved around me, his teeth nipped my shoulder gently before his face went back into my neck and he finished, “Though, I’ll let you have oatmeal to keep up your stamina but if you have to eat it wearin’ somethin’, you wear my shirt.”