Michael went still; the smile faded from his face, but hunger blazed in his eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Maggie.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her face against his chest. “I know. But I really want to, Michael. I want to give you the same kind of pleasure you give me. I just ... don’t know how.”
She tilted her head and looked up into his face, her eyes big and pleading. “I mean, theoretically, I know the basics of course, but I want to know what you like. Please, Michael. Teach me.”
*
She pushed lightly against his chest in silent demand. Before he knew what was happening, she was unfastening his jeans. He hissed when he felt her hands against his skin, coaxing the pants down over his hips. His erection sprang forth, as hard and thick as when he had first arrived, as she continued to push his jeans slowly down toward the floor. She tapped his lower leg lightly until he lifted first one foot, then the other, free. Maggie pushed the jeans to the side, and went to her knees.
She took him in one hand, then two, exploring the length of him. Gentle, curious half-strokes as she let her fingertips experience the feel of him. “So warm and silky,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “And yet... so... hard.”
She drew a circle beneath the broad head, traced along the veins, as if committing every inch to her tactile memory.
Michael watched in awe as she fondled him, resisting the urge to buck into her hands. He had to be patient, had to savor every possible moment. This was one of his secret fantasies - to have a woman learn on him. To teach her everything that drove him insane, brought him to the very edge. Could she possibly have known this? Or was he just the luckiest son of a bitch in the universe?
One hand caressed down the length, fingering him along the base before gently cupping him further below. Michael sucked in a breath. One thing was for certain – if she started this, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to stop if she changed her mind. It might just kill him.
“Maggie.” His voice was rough, raw. “Are you sure?”
She tore her eyes away from his package and looked up. “Very sure. Unless you don’t want me to.”
He groaned in response. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, one hand encircling his shaft, moving up and down with feather-light strokes. The other held his balls, rolling them lightly from pinky to index finger and back again.
“No,” he managed. “Please don’t stop.” Of their own accord, his hands buried themselves in her hair; it ran like silk through his fingers.
She pushed him backwards until he felt the sofa behind the back of his knees. “Sit down, Michael,” she whispered in soft tones. “Sit down and let me discover how to pleasure you.”
As if he was capable of denying her. Michael did as she asked, leaning back. Maggie positioned herself between his legs, pressing his thighs open, exposing him to her. She began stroking and fingering him again.
“Is this right?” She looked up into his face expectantly.
“Perfect,” he answered. She smiled and licked her lips.
He held his breath as she leaned in closer, close enough that he could feel her hot, moist breath on him. Her hands never stopped moving, a gentle teasing rhythm, as she studied him from all angles.
“Where shall I start?” she whispered, licking her lips. “The tip,” he bit out.
“Hmmm,” she hummed, pressing her lips against the head softly in a chaste kiss. The muscles in his leg tensed and bunched as he forced himself to remain still. He didn’t want to do anything that might scare her away, because he already knew he wanted her to do this again and again.
She kissed all around the tip first, then the top. Michael nearly passed out when she pulled back slightly and licked her lips again, giving a little breathy exclamation of delight when she tasted the tiny drop of pre-cum she’d already managed to draw from him. She licked the tip, then paused, tasting him.
“Mmmmm,” she hummed softly. “So this is what you taste like.”
He thought he might just lose his mind.
Maggie held him loosely with one hand, the other still working him as she kissed her way down the length of him. Her lips were wet; every now and then he would feel her tongue coming out to moisten them. She took her time, her lips and tongue retracing the paths her fingers had taken earlier, leaving no small part of him untouched, untasted.
She reached the base, and her tongue dipped lower. One hand pushed back lightly on his cock, giving her mouth full access to the area below. Half-lidded eyes looked up at him, questioning, seeking his approval.
“Yes,” he breathed. “Fuck yes.”