Page 8 of Bro Amazing

He's not a bad kisser.

I slip my tongue along his lips and Ethan eagerly joins, taking this kiss deeper. I thought I wouldn't like it, that I'd have to treat this as a job. But if one of the very few first dates I've gone on gave me a goodnight kiss like this, I would have agreed to a second date so fast. It only feels natural to wrap my arms around his neck, letting my fingers delve into the back of his blond, wavy hair.

Gasping a little, I realize I've dropped my towel to my feet and am completely naked before this man whom I've essentially just met. Ethan slips his tongue past my lips and the student becomes the master as he explores the possibilities of our kiss. He's either a quick learner or has plenty of experience.

Initially, I'd been cataloging feelings for my writing, but now I'm just experiencing it. There's so much more to explore, to research. How deep into this situation am I willing to go, and how fast? Am I going to hold my new supposed boyfriends off for as long as possible, thereby denying me access to hands on research? Or am I fully committing to this new path that I've chosen, starting right now?

My hands run down the front of Ethan's shirt until they land on the drawstring of his pants.

Ethan breaks off our kiss but doesn't back away. "Are you sure?"

"You're my boyfriend, right?" My heart flutters and my hands shake, but I keep my eyes trained on Ethan's lips. Eyes are too personal right now. This is business, and I need to sleep with this man to become the author I deserve to be.

"Yes," he whispers, and I swear his breathing nearly stops, it's so ragged.

Gathering all my courage, I undo the tie of Ethan's drawstring and slowly push his waistband down. I've agreed to this exchange and I'm not backing down. I'm collecting all the research material I possibly can because I'm determined to be a good writer. And this will be the best way.

Before Ethan's sweatpants reach the floor of my new room, he fishes in his pocket and pulls out a condom.At least one of us is prepared. The back of my hand brushes against the bulge in his boxers and … he's more than prepared. He's ready for action.

Rotating my hand, I cup him in my palm, but he's too big. I can feel my own breathing matching his. It's been a long time since I've dated, let alone slept with someone. And here I am, about to get down and dirty with a practical stranger. This is so illicit and wrong. I've never done anything like this. I've always been the good girl.

It's about time I let myself get a little dirty. So I push his boxers to the floor too.

Ethan's hands are everywhere, never settling. There's an edge of desperation in his movements, like he's afraid I'm going to disappear. Not that I blame him. I'm just as fumbling as we fall back onto my unmade bed. We're both nervous, and this is our first time together. It's best to get it over with.

Ethan nudges my legs apart to fit his hips between my thighs, and I help him slide on the condom, both of our hands shaking. This is happening. I'm doing this. Wrapping my hand around his cock, I measure how many fingertips don't touch and I'd have to stack both of my fists to cover the entire length. Before I can get too intimidated and back out, I shift my hips to line him up with my entrance.

"Fuck," he breaths out as he slowly slides inside me, his hair flopping forward to brush my forehead.

It's tight, but somehow the wrongness of this whole situation has excited me, and I’m wet and ready. Ethan presses in untilour hips are locked together and I'm filled with him. All I can do is breathe and appreciate the feeling of fullness. This is what my characters will feel every time they're with their own boyfriends.

Ethan's hands brace on either side of my shoulders as he pulls back a little bit, only to slam into me completely.

"You feel so good," groans Ethan. "I want to make you feel good too."

It does feel amazing to have a strange man pressed so close against every inch of my naked body. But I could feel better, and I'm used to getting myself off since I don't date anymore.

I slip my hand between our bodies, his shirt gaping down to graze my bare chest, and as soon as I brush a single fingertip over my clit, I'm gasping. It's so different to touch myself while at the same time being filled with a cock. Especially when the cock moves again, dragging the fullness in and out.

"That's so hot," whispers Ethan, pushing up to watch the way my fingers play with myself as his cock disappears inside my body.

He speeds up, fucking me faster in quick, shallow thrusts. I work my clit in tight circles, matching Ethan's pace and watching right along with him. I can't believe this is happening. It feels so overwhelming and encapsulating, as if there's a huge bubble inside of me that's about to burst. It's never felt like this before when I go solo late at night. Is this what I've been missing out on? If that's the case, I should have bought a dildo years ago.

Ethan's cock twitches inside my pussy and I swear, it's getting even bigger. Tilting my hips, I lean into the feeling and give myself over. An obscene moan escapes my lips as I cry out in release, my hand falling to the side as I ride the wave of pleasure.

Ethan's cock strokes my pussy through the final tremors before he collapses on top of me, crushing my body beneath his. His weight feels good, comforting even, as the after-tremors of my orgasm flutter through my limbs.

Only when he rolls off me do I register that it's a bit cold in here, naked and with the window open. It'd been so hot earlier in the day, but with the sheen of sweat on my body, it's too much. Great, the whole neighborhood probably heard us. I'm itching to pull a blanket out of a packing box and cover myself up. To hide my nudity and embarrassment.

I just had sex with a complete stranger, and even worse, I enjoyed it. What kind of person does that make me?

Ethan sits up and looks back at me over his shoulder as he ties off the condom. He's biting his lip again, sending covert glances down at my naked body while he gathers his discarded clothes and pulls them on.

"Thank you." He hurries out of the room, the door still wide open.

Shoot. I don't think we remembered to close it before having sex. Did I seriously fuck a stranger with my bedroom door open and four other guys in the house? Yet more people I have to worry about having overheard my sex-noises.

I don't have a lot of experience with boyfriends, and absolutely no experience with one-night stands, but I'm pretty sure that's not how this is supposed to end—with the guy hurrying away as if he’s embarrassed. I'd been hoping at leasttheywould know how this whole situation is supposed to progress. They're the ones who put up the flyer.

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