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that I might not be doing something right. Nervous, I reached out for Jeff, wanting to touch him and make him feel this good, too.
    But he stopped my hand.
    “I love you, Ellie,” he said.
    “I love you, too, Jeff. So much. Won’t you let me show you?”
    But then Jeff stood up. Cold fear rushed through me, then. I had done something wrong! He was leaving!
    “Jeff… What’s wrong?” I said.
    He didn’t leave, though. He went over to the window and drew the inner curtains, leaving the heavy drapes open so that the sunlight could still make its way in.
    Then he disrobed, shrugging off his jacket and folding it neatly over the back of his desk chair. He did the same with his undershirt and his trousers. I got a hitch in my throat when he slid out of his shorts, his desire finally free/ My stomach tightened at the sight of it, and I felt slickness between my thighs.
    He was a well-built man. Broad shoulders, a chest deep enough to betray his athletic nature. My eyes drank in the clean, masculine lines of his body. I hoped he liked the feminine curves of mine. It was quite the contrast, his hard lines to my soft ones.
    Climbing back onto the bed, he lay on his side beside me, his hand cupping my breast again before shifting up to gently stroke my cheek. It was like fanning flames.
    When he began helping me the rest of the way out of my dress, folding it over top of his clothes, I again worried about doing things the wrong way. At the same time, desire and anticipation thrummed through me.
    He moved down to the foot of the bed, gently parting my legs. I squirmed at the sight of him. God, that slickness was getting worse. And now he could see it! I had to fight the urge to put my hands over my nakedness.
    “I’ve thought about being with you like this for so long, Ellie,” he said, “You have no idea how many nights and days I spent thinking about it. About how you might look. And do you know what? You’re far more beautiful, more perfect, than in my most intense fantasies.”
    I don’t know if he said that because he saw my nervousness, or just needed to tell me. Whatever the reason, it worked. I relaxed, insofar as I could. That urge to hide myself from his eyes disappeared, replaced by the need to feel him there, inside me.
    Slowly, he slid up over me, supporting himself on his hands. When he smiled, I couldn’t help but smile back. When he kissed me, I couldn’t help but let my lips part against his.
    When I felt him against my opening, I couldn’t help but let him slip inside me.
    My body stretched to accommodate him, the pain of it sweet. It was a good thing I was so slick. He pressed against my maidenhead for a moment. Our kiss grew more passionate.
    He thrust forward, taking my flower. I was lost in the decadent pleasures of physical intimacy. I could feel his heat and his hardness. The more I felt it, the deeper it plunged into me, the slicker I became. I could feel his hot breaths of exertion. When I slipped my hands down to his bared bottom, I could feel his muscles flexing with the effort of it.
    Without having to be told, I wrapped my legs around his back, locking my ankles.
    Our bodies writhed together as we explored each other. Sometimes his lips found mine, sometimes they found the soft skin of my throat. But always, the heat and hardness of his desire was deep within me. I wanted him to get lost in me, to never leave.
    When he began to slow, I used my legs to urge him back into me.
    “Ellie…” he said, his teeth gritted, his eyes scrunched shut.
    His voice just urged me on. I pulled him back in, harder and faster. My grip on him grew tighter, and something deep inside was building. Every thrust brought me closer and closer to it.
    Jeff forced himself all the way into me, then, crying out wordlessly. He filled me, pouring his seed deep inside. The heat of it put me over the edge.
    If the swirling of sensations before had been a storm, this was a maelstrom. I couldn’t help crying out as well.