Your Voice, My Hand - Sex Stories

Your Voice, My Hand

... it.

"I'm going to lose you, aren't I, Justine." It wasn't a question; you stated it like a fact you'd already accepted. But God, Paul, you sounded so wounded. It tore me apart to hear your anguish.

"No!" My voice was so vehement, I made the word sound like a retort. "No," I repeated, far more gently. "I promise you won't lose me."

I didn't hear from you again until the following day. It was late afternoon, just as I was ready to leave work, when I received your text:Have fun tonight.

My stomach cramped with anxiety while I prepared for that date. I was angry at you, angry at myself. Yet I made every effort to look good for Ben. My interest in fashion was negligible at best, but my mother had insisted on buying me a few outfits for my last birthday. To her credit, she'd chosen a red dress that flattered my figure, and the heels she'd given me matched perfectly. I left my hair down and selected a choker pearl necklace, which had also been a gift from my mother.

Ben picked me up at seven. "You have a nice place," he said, his expression politely neutral as he looked around my retro apartment.

"It needs a major update, but I can't afford to move anywhere else."

As Ben drove me to the restaurant, we made easy conversation. All the while, he sneaked glances at my legs, giving me a sheepish grin when he realized I'd caught him. Over dinner, our discussion grew a little deeper. He talked about his career goals and his desire to travel all over the world. I ...

... listened with a smile fixed on my face. He was kind and funny and sonormal.He wanted normal things, to get married and start a family. He was already saving for retirement.

"What about you, Justine?" he asked. "What are your hopes for the future?"

To not have another debilitating depressive episode? To be able to keep working so I could pay the bills and have a little extra saved at the end of the day? I could tell you these things, Paul, but not Ben. "Um, I guess I just try to stay focused on the present, you know?" My face began to ache from the effort to hold my smile.

Ben looked like he didn't know. Not at all. But he still nodded and gave me his own smile. By the time we finished dinner, I think we both knew we were incompatible. Still, the physical attraction was there, and after he drove me back to my apartment, I invited him inside. Things moved fast then; I wasn't interested in any more conversation. While I tried to gracefully wriggle out of my dress, Ben's stare drifted to the drawing you'd given me. It hangs on my bedroom wall, close to the mirror. "Wow, that's beautiful!" he breathed. "Is that your work?"

"No. It was a gift." Once I stood half-naked before Ben, he gave me his full attention. In moments, we were in my bed.

The sex was... fine. Ben was eager to please, spending plenty of time with his face between my thighs. He seemed grateful for the blowjob I gave him. But all the while, I was thinking,this is a man who would never ask me to fist myself. ...