Page 72 of Being Lost

But his sigh of appreciation is reassuring, as are his words. “Fuckin’ perfect babe. Are you sensitive?”

I’m just about to reply, I’m not sure. I was once, but I’ve had two kids and after my nipples were used for the purpose nature intended, I don’t regard them as sexual anymore. But the light fluttering almost not-there touch by the back of his hands, has those tight nubs hardening. My back imperceptibly straightens, pushing my breasts into his hold, providing the signal he seems to have been waiting for.

He closes his fingers and thumbs around my nipples, gently rolling them, his question answered by my moan as a shooting sensation goes straight to my groin.

“Want my mouth on these, Patsy.” He pauses, giving me time to offer some objection.

Stopping him now is the furthest thought from my mind. When I utter no complaint, he raises my t-shirt and drops his mouth down.

Oh my. His hands were one thing, his mouth another. He’s gentle, not rough, his soft tongue almost a teasing touch, as though he’s read my mind, and knows exactly what I like.

I roll my head back as he moves his attention from one nipple to the other, his hands continuing to massage and plump. He nips gently with his teeth, and once again I moan. I’m only vaguely aware that he’s taking my top off until I feel the material brushing over my face.

Automatically, my arms cross over my chest.

My eyes, which had closed without me being aware, flick open to find him staring at me. His chest is rising and falling, and the tick in his jaw shows he’s holding himself back tightly. Slowly, my hands once again drop away, the reaction being him licking his lips, and his mouth curving.

This is one-sided.

Boldly, I step forward. My hands find the bottom of his shirt and I begin tugging it up. He bends, and raises his arms, allowing me to slide it off.

I get the first sight of Lost’s naked chest.

He’s a man, not a boy. He has a mass of chest hair which like that on his head is greying. His skin, while not the shiny smoothness of youth, is pulled tight over a spectacular array of muscles. He even has that delicious V I’ve seen in pictures and have read about, but never have had an example of in front of me. My eyes follow it down to the bulge I’d felt but not yet feasted my eyes on. My hands itch to reach out, undo his button and zipper and expose it to me, but my brain prevents me taking such a liberty.

“Jeez, woman,” Lost hisses through his teeth. “Babe, I can feel your eyes burning into me. Not showing you the goods, not yet. I’m likely to go off like a fuckin’ rocket once you put your hands on me, and I’m not that young anymore. If I’m gonna come tonight, it’s going to be in your sweet pussy.”

Oh, please, yes.It’s my turn to lick my lips.

“Jesus.” Smirking, he places his hands on my biceps, and gently turns me and pushes me backward to the bed. When the back of my knees hit it, he uses that sexy growl of his and says, “Get on, Patsy.”

I hoist myself up, then shuffle on my butt until I’m in the middle of the comforter. He climbs on, then stalks me on his knees. He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of my sleep shorts and focuses his eyes on me.

“Tell me you want this, Patsy. Tell me you want to feel what my beard can do to your pussy.”

Oh hell to the yes.

“Words, Patsy.”

“Yes.”

Needing no further encouragement, he pulls down my shorts, baring my pussy to his eyes. Turning my head to the side, I avoid looking at his face. My stomach isn’t anything to write home about, I hadn’t lied about cellulite. I could do with losing a few pounds, but hey, I like my food. My muscles aren’t as firm as I’d like…

“Stop cataloguing your faults, babe. You look fuckin’ perfect to me.”

Bravely I turn in time to see him lower his head, his face growing pinched as his nostrils flare.He’s smelling me?

“Fuck, babe. You smell like heaven.”

I feel awkward as he spreads my knees, baring me to him, uncomfortable as he sits back and stares in an intense way I’ve only experienced in gynaecological examinations.

“You promised me the beard,” I remind him, embarrassed at how he’s looking at me.

“I did, didn’t I?” He continues to feast his eyes on my pussy. “You really never had anyone go down on you before?” When I shake my head, he continues, “So, you haven’t got a point of comparison, have you?”

I suppose I haven’t. I decide to toy with him. “Should I try it with a beardless man first?”

It was my tone of delivery. A suggestion offered in a matter-of-fact way as if I was giving it serious consideration that gets a look of shocked surprise on his face.

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