his unstoppable smiles

Listen to this song while you read!

"It’s so funny how we both somehow knew it was finally going to happen,” he told me.

"I know…this has been such a long time coming, it honestly just feels surreal. I’m so glad we did though."

His eyes reflected the light from the window and the forest green sheets. We broke into more deep kisses as we wrapped our naked bodies tightly around each other.

I’m calling him Bradley Nowell of Sublime, although I would consider my real life version more attractive and significantly less likely to die from a heroin overdose. That night we both ended up at our favourite local bar and venue. The texts were simple, friendship content with a tinge of sexual speculation if you read into it. I joked with someone that I wasn’t sure if it would happen, but that I would definitely do him if he indicated interest.

Bradley and I had become good friends in the past year and although I harbored a crush that would occasionally flare up into desire, I had avoided hooking up with him. I had entered a circle of long-time friends and didn’t want to unknowingly step on anyone’s toes by going for him. So I ended up in this paralyzed place of enjoying his company but never hanging out one-on-one. We’re also both super chill; he brings that vibe out in me. However, being in that head space tends to make me more passive since I’m literally just going with the flow. 

Finally though, a night where it ends up being just us. Dancing, being silly, keeping it light. Except whenever we would talk over the music his arm would sneak around my waist. Or I’d find some excuse to touch his shoulder, intentionally escalating. I asked, “Are you down for smoking after this?” Oh yeah, of course he’s down. Exit strategy established. Moving out.

Bradley is super tall, blonde stoner-surfer look, biker, rocks a mullet most winters. We get to his room and while he packed the bowl, I commented on how despite my forward tendencies, I can be clueless sometimes. “I’m such a fool,” and I leaned into his lips. Such a rich, soft, delicious kiss. His hands rubbed circles in my back, one trailed down to take hold of my ass. We pushed as far into each other as we could go in that heated moment. The release of that built-up pressure felt phenomenal. 

A bowl or two later and my memory reflects soft touches, his anticipatory groans, heavy breathing. We made out our clothes off, each article removed deliberately. He was on his knees kissing along my inner thighs, his hands traveling along my skin. I grasped his shoulders and placed him lying back. His cock stuck straight up, begging for me to ride him. But I bided my time, starting by spreading saliva along his sack to judge his reaction to that region.

My instinct was sound. His face popped into my view and a look of total pleasure consumed him. My tongue probed his taint, circled around his balls before taking them in my wet mouth, and proceeded up his exceptionally long shaft. I would catch his eyes and that sexy sweat forming on his face. I pumped him down my throat, starting fast like the tactics I’m used to deploying. But I realized that he wanted it slow. He wanted me slow. I’m someone who tends to fuck energetically. I just haven’t had many partners where we made love in that frequent eye contact, constant kissing, leisurely paced kind of way. Bradley creamed that trend. When I reduced my speed, he responded even more. I realized that our friendship created a base for us to explore each other sensually as well as sexually. 

When I came up to kiss his neck, he placed me beneath him. His hands and mouth massaged my nipples, with little bites effecting sharp, hot gasps. Then he slowly pulled down my midnight blue lacy underwear. An unerasable smile broke across his face as his lips touched mine. Moans escaped as his tongue darted along my folds, more as he took his time with my engorged clit. He moved through me, inserting his tongue inside me, swirling motions mixed with kisses. It felt like he was making out with my vagina, tightly holding onto my hips. My orgasm was mixed with the body high, causing me to writhe all over the bed. He kept my body steady and continued losing himself.

I was ready for that length to penetrate me, but he had softened up while giving me such delirious head. Marijuana makes erection maintenance challenging, so we postponed until the morning. I preemptively calmed any embarrassment by commenting on how having sex high is great and simple for women (besides dryness I suppose, although that’s never been a problem for me), but how there is added stress for men given the drug’s effects. This has happened many times before and I never place any blame on the guy. But he added on his own accord, “Part of it is also that I’ve been waiting for this for so long, I’m tripping myself up.” I took that as a compliment. There’s no point in hurting his self-esteem when you can easily have sex later. 

Several hours of sleep passed until I stirred awake to his body pressed against mine. I grinded into him deliberately and heard his breathing change. We began rocking into each other, building tension, then his fingers found my already wet pussy. His cock was hard and ready to go, but we both wanted more pretense than that.

I gave him the best morning head I could muster: one hand gripping the base of his shaft, one set of licked fingers stimulating his balls, and my mouth enveloping him, licking circles inside my closed lips, then consistently deep throating his eight inches at the relaxed pace we had established. So delicious in my mouth, his hand in my hair, his pelvis thrusting slightly upward like the angle of his shaft…I pushed him inside the back of my throat one more time, kissed up his just-right hairy chest, and asked if he would like to get a condom.

While positioned over me, the sun broke through the clouds and streams of light filled the bedroom. From below it made him look like some sort of god, his whole body seemed to give off light. When his cock slid inside, his endearing smile combined with the sensation of his nudging my cervix immediately overwhelmed me.

,He leaned down to kiss me as he thrust, meeting my eyes and clearly enjoying the sounds I was emitting. Phrases I tend to automatically repeat while being fucked: fuck, (holy) shit, oh my (fucking) god, this feels so good, (please) don’t stop fucking me, and yes. While those phrases definitely popped up, this connected form of sex introduced some ones that had been hibernating since the Gregg days: you’re amazing, you feel so good, and I want more of you. Hearing myself become romantically vocal and express deep connection to my partner was a huge subconscious turn on.  

So he fucked me. But he fucked me in this unbelievably intimate way. He flicked his tongue across my nipples as he pulled almost all the way out, then took my breast in his mouth as he filled me up again. He held my ass in his big hands as he supported my pelvis in the air, landing long strokes that lowered my usually enormous volume to a hurried repeated whisper of “oh my god” as he stared square into my eyes.

He didn’t really want to do me from behind or reverse cowgirl, because he couldn’t see my face in those positions. When my feet were wrapped behind his neck, he carefully touched them and trailed kisses along my ankles and toes. He held my body as close as possible as I matched my thrusts to his breathing. 

We did this four times. And each time if got even better. From 7am when our bodies woke each other up until noon when we were totally exhausted, we cycled through sex for at least a half hour, then great conversation, massages from our wandering hands, naked cuddling, and unsolicited kisses. The escalation periods were so, so good…”I’m sorry Tara, but I really can’t stop touching your body,” and “Doesn’t it frustrate you how when you’re trying to hold somebody, you can’t quite fit all of them into your arms?” I couldn’t resist his deep voice and our powerful mutual attraction.

We aren’t afraid to laugh during sex. He was trying to reposition his cock inside and muttered with aroused frustration, “You’re slippery as hell.” My immediate deadpan response, “Hell is not very slippery.” We both cracked up while we continued fucking and he corrected himself: “You’re slippery as heaven.” 

The catch? I’m moving away from this place in less than two weeks. I will be spending as much time as possible with him before I leave. I’m legitimately giddy and it’s extraordinarily rare for me to feel this way. It must be some combination of our steady friendship, my emotional vulnerability before this big transition, and his incredible skill as a lover.

At first I was afraid to tell him how great I think he is. It’s only been a couple of days. But I’m not scared anymore. Our connection is very honest and reciprocal. Literally our friends have been waiting for this to happen for months and months.

I’m going to spend my last nights here with him and not regret it. He is a man who loves to smile during sex (“What else would you do with your face? Nothing is as good as smiling!”). He is a man who is worth my time. 

Oh, and happy 4/20