Being His Doll - Sex Stories

Being His Doll

I lay in Nathan's arms, my head resting against his chest. This was one of my favorite times, I realized. In the moments after he came inside me, I grew relaxed and still, my mind mercifully quiet.

His fingers caressed my skin. "If there's something I can do to please you more, Ruby, I hope you feel comfortable enough to tell me."

Lifting my head, I searched Nathan's face. "You already please me! You made me come twice tonight."

He smiled while tucking a strand of my ash-blonde hair behind my ear. When he spoke again, I could tell he was carefully choosing his words. "I just get a sense that you're unable to really let go with me." His eyes held such tenderness that I had to look away. Of course, he thought the problem was with him, which couldn't have been further from the truth. I worried he was sensitive about being so much older. I was twenty-four, and he was forty-six, just a few years younger than my father. When we first started dating, Nathan would make self-deprecating jokes about his age. He was tall and wiry, with dark hair quickly turning gray, and he'd once described his lined face as craggy. Yet I thought he was gorgeous, and I always made a point to tell him so.

Sometimes I wanted to confess to Nathan that I'd never felt such a fierce attraction toward anyone else. I'd met him through his niece, Ashleigh, who was also my roommate. When he'd stopped by our apartment to see her one Saturday afternoon, I found myself immediately drawn to him. His light ...

... brown eyes were kind, as Ashleigh introduced us. Taking my hand in his, Nathan greeted me like a friend. After he left, I was far from subtle, asking Ashleigh questions about her uncle. She quickly decided to play matchmaker, for Nathan was divorced and had complained to her that trying to meet someone new was a nightmare.

I knew Nathan was surprised by my interest in him. He seemed even more surprised when we hit it off on our first date. We'd been seeing each other for a little over a month, and at this point, I was spending more time at his house than at the apartment I shared with Ashleigh.

As I now lay in Nathan's bed, I felt a rush of guilt for making him doubt himself. Sex with him was fantastic, by far the best I'd ever had. He was patient and attentive, easily sensing what would excite me most. He knew I could only rarely have a vaginal orgasm, so he indulged his love of oral by spending plenty of time with his face between my thighs. Though I hadn't yet climaxed while we were having sex, I still derived a deep satisfaction from feeling Nathan inside me, and from watching him come.

But he was right: I was holding back. I trusted and adored him, yet I couldn't be completely open. It had been the same in my past relationships, few as they were. But those former boyfriends hadn't been able to read me the way Nathan could. They never sensed the disconnect between my body and mind while they were fucking me.

I loved sex, and I loved being close to Nathan, but ...