After the Haircut

This is a M/F story featuring Lissie and Nate from My Guys. This story takes place during My Guys, immediately following the haircut scene. Although it can be read as a standalone, it will be more enjoyable if you've read My Guys, which is available from Amazon for 2.99 or free with Kindle Unlimited.
As soon as we got in the car, I tilted down the visor to check myself out in the mirror. I shook my head and watched my hair swing in freshly cut layers like a shampoo commercial.

"You like it," Nate observed.

"Do you?"

"Doesn't matter what I think, matters what you think. I like seeing you smile."

"It makes me look beautiful."

"You're always beautiful. Right now you look pleased with yourself, like you do when you've made me come with your mouth."

"I feel beautiful then, too."

"And when you look like that," he said, "even when I have just come, it's tempting to change that look from pleased with yourself to just plain pleased."

I flipped the visor up. "Then take me home and I'll let you please me all day long."

"I'm thinking more like right now." He shifted closer to me. "I've never seen you in a skirt before. What kind of panties are you wearing under there?" He slid a hand up along my thigh. Together we watched it disappear beneath the hem of my skirt.

"Regular old cotton ones," I said as wetness started to dampen them. "Blue, I think."

"My favorite color." His hand moved higher, the skirt sliding up with him.

"Nate?" I glanced nervously out the window at the people passing by. It was a very busy parking lot on a very bright day.

"Yes, Lissie?" His hand had reached the top of my thigh where it wedged itself between my legs. It rested there, touching only thigh, although my pussy could feel its warmth and was already pulsing towards it. He brushed the back of one finger firmly over my mound. His knuckle rubbed against my clit and I jumped.

"Come towards me here." He directed my body so that I faced him with my legs curled up on the seat. "Now open for me."

"Nate," I protested again, less strongly this time.

He leaned in and kissed me, using the hand that wasn't rubbing my clit with will-sapping slowness to hold me to him. I'd have thought all his attention was in that kiss, so focused and sensual was it, but beneath my skirt his other hand continued to move. He wasn't trying to bring me to orgasm. He was trying to drive me crazy. And it was working.

I strained to anticipate the next deliberately un-patterned move of his hand against my pussy--a stroke here, a brush there, a bit of pressure from his thumb against my clit and then the lightest whisper of the back of his hand tracing the same path.

I sagged against him, raising my hands to his shoulders, needing something to cling to. Feeling my surrender, he broke the kiss.

"Open for me," he asked again.

As I put one foot down on the floor to separate my legs for him, I took another peep out through the windshield.

"Look at me, Lissie. Only me." He waited until my eyes met his. "I'm going to make you come now. Say yes."

I said yes. He smiled--an angelic, devilish smile--and I shuddered in anticipation. His fingers moved under the edge of my underwear, sliding into my wetness. His thumb roved over the outside of the fabric, holding my clit captive to his slick, seeking fingers. He rolled it very slowly--light and wet from below, tight and firm from above--his eyes never leaving mine. My lashes fluttered half-closed, my hands gripped his shoulders more tightly.

I waited for him to pick up the speed or the pressure, to do something to tip me over the edge. Surely, there was a reason to rush. But Nate was in no hurry. He spun my orgasm out in a bewitching web of paralyzing sensation. When it finally came, I wasn't expecting it--the build was so slow, so continuous, so oddly reassuringly steady. At last pleasure burst in a single, blinding pulse.

My breath left me in a long exhale as I slumped forward into his arms. He held me for a few moments, then raised me up.

"Now I get a prize," he said.

"What do you want?" I reached towards his crotch.

"Your panties."

"Blue cotton? Not very sexy."

"You just came in them, Lissie. They couldn't be any sexier."

I could see he meant it, so I wiggled my panties down over my hips and handed them over. They were admittedly very damp. He held them up to his nose and inhaled deeply.

"These are going to have some long nights in my bedroom." He stashed them in the side pocket of his door and told me to buckle up, then fastened his own seat belt and started the car. I waited until he'd backed the car out of the parking space before slipping a hand into his lap. I wasn't surprised to find him hard.

"Oh no. Not while I'm driving." He moved my hand back to my own side of the car.

"When we get to my place then."

"I imagine so," he said dryly. "I've never known you to be satisfied with only one orgasm. At least, not since that first night in the back of your car."

"Well," I said, remembering.

"Well what?"

"Well, you were only there for one, but I . . ."

"Yes?"

"I believe I had three altogether."

Nate took a deep breath. He didn't move his eyes from the road. "When you got home?"

I shook my head.

"In the car? Right there?"

I nodded.

He made a quiet, desperate sound. One hand moved from the steering wheel towards his cock, then returned resolutely to the wheel.

"Tell me," he said, his voice strained. "No, show me."

"Show you?"

He lifted my skirt up to my waist. My pussy smiled sideways up at me.

"Show me. Please?"

I slid my right hand into my pussy and lifted a silky strand of wetness up to my clit. My fingers felt good. I was still churned up and ready to come again, even if it was by my own hand. I just didn't know if I could do it with Nate watching. I glanced over at him. He was looking at the road. Only the tightness of his hands on the steering wheel confirmed that he could see me anyway. Or maybe he didn't even have to see. Maybe it was enough for him to know.

"Close your eyes if it helps," he suggested.

I tried to remember if my eyes were usually open or closed when I masturbated, but couldn't. For now, I closed them. Trying to forget he was there, I stroked myself. My fingers knew what to do. Need built beneath them.

It was surprising how different one orgasm could be from another. When Nate went down on me, my climax came in waves, each new wave layering on the last, pushing me to a higher and higher plateau so that when the final crest came there was a feeling of plunging steeply over an unseen edge.

When Derek fucked me, his big cock seemed to touch every inch of my skin, inside and out. My orgasms then were vast and formless, a whole-body sensation that left no room for thought. I couldn't say whether I had one endless orgasm or an uncountable series of them.

But when I pleasured myself, it was neither of those, because I knew exactly where to touch and how, because I could feel the build and drive it, because all of me felt only me--no need for feedback or validation, no worry about how I looked or sounded, no fear that I was being too needy or too selfish. There was only my pleasure in all the world and I knew exactly how to shape it into a sharp point--one white-hot, shining spot of sweet agony.

I cried out when I came, and Nate's hand, which had crept unnoticed into mine, jerked in response.

"Again," he begged.

I brought my fingers back to my clit. The first time, I'd been trying to pretend he wasn't there, but this time it was for him. I wiggled my hips against my fingers, dipping them inside myself for more lubrication. I let out a long sigh and leaned into the headrest, arching my back so that my breasts thrust forward.

Nate murmured something. His hand tightened on mine.

More slowly this time, I circled my fingers around my clit, drawing it out for both of us. I was so sensitive now that I didn't need to press hard, and I returned my fingers, again and again, to that pool of natural lubricant, drawing it up and around my pulsing clit, keeping my stroke light. I'd never teased myself before. Masturbation had always been a matter of necessity, not a time for playing. But now I relaxed into it, enjoying the build-up. Knowing Nate was as drawn in as I was, I no longer felt shy. I felt glorious.

My third orgasm pierced me. For a moment, I knew only that, then I became aware that Nate was squeezing my hand much too hard.

"Ouch."

"Sorry. I lost myself."

"Mm, me too." I recognized the yellow house down the street from mine. "We're almost home."

"We've been driving around the block for five minutes." He pulled into my driveway and turned off the car.

"Let's go upstairs," I suggested.

"Oh, we're not going to make it upstairs."

And he was right. He bent me over the dining room table and fucked me--my skirt around my waist and his pants around his ankles. Fast. When his hips stopped jerking, he leaned over and kissed the back of my neck. "Sorry. I couldn't hold out any longer."

"That's OK," I told him. "I think I owe you one or two. Or twenty."

But Nate, being Nate, when he'd taken off his pants and taken care of the used condom, flipped me over, knelt between my legs, and took care of me.


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© Tanya Chris, 2014