Chapter 21
Jonathan was the perfect lover. Curious, always available, he obeyed everything I told him to do exactly the way I wanted. He did it without questioning, without complaining, without rushing. This phase would end one day, when he became a real man and started wanting to take charge too, but back then—in the time of discovery—everything happened in my room. And one thing I could never complain about him: how damn well he sucked.
The sound of my dad knocking on the door was the kind of thing that would kill the mood for any normal person. In me, it had the opposite effect. It was like pouring gasoline and striking a match at the same time. The risk, the fear of getting caught, my heart racing—it all just made the fire burn hotter, faster. My whole body responded before my brain even caught up.
I looked at my brother. He was still there, distracted, engrossed, fingering my pussy in this affectionate, almost relaxing way, like he was caressing something precious. I grinned mischievously, my voice coming out low and husky:
"Now I'm gonna teach you something… but no jokes about me being hairy, got it?"
In my head, I already had it all planned out. Fabiano went down on me, sure, and it was good. But just good. Nothing magical. He seemed like he didn't really enjoy it, did it quick, without patience, without wanting to explore. I wanted more. I wanted to feel like someone really wanted to be there, wanted to discover every little bit.
I spread my legs slowly, pushing him with my knees until he fit between my thighs. I adjusted my body on the bed, leaned back a little more on the pillows, opened everything up for him, and Jonathan didn't hesitate. He brought his face right up close, so near that I could feel the heat of his breath hitting my wet skin. He studied everything with attention, with genuine curiosity, almost reverence. He looked at every detail—the dark hairs, the swollen lips, the clit already hard and peeking out. I loved that about him. The desire to see, to understand, to learn.
"Okay, you're gonna suck it, alright? Right on this little spot up here on the clit… and…"
I didn't get to finish.
His mouth touched me. First just his tongue, hot and soft, sliding slowly over the clit, a slow, firm lick that made my whole body jolt. Then he closed his lips around it, sucking gently, and started circling with the tip of his tongue—exact, precise, no rush. It was perfect. It was too much.
My voice died in my throat. A hoarse moan escaped, way too loud, and I couldn't talk anymore. My brain shut off. There was only that sensation: his hot mouth, his tongue dancing slowly, then faster, then slow again, varying the pressure like he knew exactly what to do even without me explaining. He licked, sucked, pressed with the flat of his tongue, then went back to those light circles on the tip. It was magical. It was unbearable it felt so good.
I was losing my mind.
I grabbed the pillow with both hands and shoved it over my face, muffling the moans I couldn't control anymore. My whole body shook. My thighs clamped around his head without me telling them to, my hips bucked up on their own wanting more, closer, harder. My pussy throbbed, wet, dripping, and he didn't stop. He kept sucking calmly, affectionately, with a dedication no one had ever shown me. Every lick sent a wave up my belly, through my small tits, to the back of my neck, goosebumping everything. I gripped the pillow tight, bit the fabric, moaned into it muffled, my body twisting on the bed.
He was good. Too damn good.
His hands didn't stop either. While his mouth kept working the clit with that slow, precise lick, his fingers trailed over my thighs—squeezing the lean muscle with controlled strength, then scratching lightly with his nails, just enough to make my skin tingle all over. They slid up my inner thighs tracing a hot path, reached the undersides of my small tits, squeezed gently, brushed the hard nipples with his open palm, then went back down to the swollen outer lips, parting them carefully like separating petals.
And then he almost killed me for good.
He started circling the entrance to my pussy with one finger, going slow, feeling the wetness, the heat, the way everything pulsed around the tip. Then he dipped a little lower, brushing my asshole, came back, alternated—a wet circle on the pussy, another on the tight little hole, light, exploring. It was right then that he discovered the magic of the ass. His finger stopped there and didn't move away.
He kept licking the clit with his tongue, sucking slow, while his middle finger pressed at the entrance to my ass, just the tip, slick from my own juices, not pushing, just playing, testing. Every time he circled there, my body jolted differently—a wave that climbed my belly, squeezed my tits, prickled my neck, made my back arch on its own.
I couldn't take it anymore. It was too much. The combination was perfect: his hot, wet mouth on the clit, sucking and licking in a steady rhythm, the finger circling my ass with that exact pressure, his other hand still gripping my thigh like he wanted to hold me in place.
The orgasm hit suddenly, without warning, without me being able to control it.
First it was a strong contraction deep in my belly, like something clenching and releasing at the same time. Then the clit pulsed against his tongue, swollen, throbbing fast, every lick sending an electric zap up my thighs and exploding in my core. My pussy clenched on nothing, squeezing hard, wanting something that wasn't there, while my asshole winked around the tip of his finger that was still teasing, clenching and releasing in a rhythm I didn't control.
My legs shook all over, my thighs clamped hard around his head, my hips lifted off the bed on their own, shoving my pussy against his mouth like they wanted to swallow his tongue. A heat surged fast from deep inside up—passed through my belly, tightened my small tits making the nipples ache they were so hard, prickled my neck, cascaded down my back in waves that made my whole body writhe. I grabbed the pillow with both hands, shoved it over my face, bit the fabric to muffle the hoarse moan that escaped uncontrolled, long, broken, almost an animal growl.
The orgasm lasted seconds that felt like minutes. Strong pulses, one after another, the clit throbbing in his mouth, the pussy contracting in empty spasms. The wetness ran down my thighs, soaked the sheet, hot, sticky. My whole body trembled, my back arched one last time, then collapsed limp on the bed. My breathing came short, panting, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat.
When the main tremor passed, there were still those little aftershocks, late ones—the clit too sensitive, the pussy still pulsing slowly—I slowly pulled the pillow away from my face. Heavy eyes, blurry vision. He lifted his face from between my legs, mouth shiny with my juices, dark eyes curious, waiting for the next command like always.