Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (8 page)

And after the wave of energy finally crashed through me, there
was nothing left.

Except a pulsing spot in my pajama pants that had become far too
hot to touch.

I couldn’t stop staring at her breasts. I felt like such a guy.
Thank god I didn’t know anyone there.

But she was so beautiful I feared I couldn’t do her justice. I
wanted to go up and ask her if she would be okay with me just staring instead
of drawing because it had been so long since I appreciated a naked woman.

But what would the other amateur artists have thought of me then?
As they politely feigned interest in their easels?

And why did I never find my own nakedness that striking? Or
comforting?

It was her confidence as much as her looks that made her so
captivating. Between the way she dropped her robe almost without noticing and
how she draped herself over the chaise lounge, it was clear that she was the
real artist in the room.

And I thought I was liberated.

She even had this soft look in her eye like she was deep in
thought. Like despite the room full of people studying her nakedness, her mind
was preoccupied with more pressing subjects.

I desperately wanted to know what she was thinking. 

Was she meal planning? Meditating? Worried about paying her
bills?

It was impossible to tell. But I had my own ideas. I hoped she
was thinking about a lover. A lover whose affection was so intense she could
feel his lips against her neck and her eyelids when she closed her eyes. The
kind of lover who would feed her fruit in bed until they were both so overcome
with passion that they ruined the sheets with the stains of crushed berries.

Now that I’d like to draw.

I could easily imagine her lying naked the same way at home, her
strawberry locks falling off her shoulders as she reached down to pleasure
herself and think of him. It would be so beautiful to see the expression on her
face as she warmed herself through, her chest rising and falling with her
breath.

Not that I would get off by watching her get off. I wasn’t a
pervert.

I just couldn’t stop thinking about sex. Even more than usual.
Probably because I was fast approaching death, and I was all too aware that sex
was one of the things I would miss most. Not that it would be any fun without a
beating heart and sensitive skin. On the bright side, I took comfort in the
fact that I hadn’t wasted my only shot at this life by hiding my body away or
exploring just one person, gender, or erogenous zone.

It’s not like I got horny every time I saw a naked lady. And
thank god for that. Between advertisements, TV, and the internet, I couldn’t
avoid naked women if I wanted to. Still, the media images I was used to seeing
weren't nearly as powerful as when a single naked woman exposes herself in
person as if to say
here is my body. I want you to see me naked and I want
it to mean something. I want to reveal more to you than I do to other people.

And I don’t know why, but the gift of nakedness seems different
when it comes from a woman. Or at least I always found it more intimate than
when a man drops trou in front of you and is like,
right, your turn.
Cause even he knows the female body is the real miracle. Or that’s what I
always thought anyway. Even before Lydia.

Lydia was a Spanish girl I dated for a few weeks one summer when
I was living in Spain in my twenties. She was openly bisexual, and while I knew
I preferred men, I was open-minded. So when she hit on me at the bar after I’d
had several carafes of cheap red wine, flirting with her seemed like the most
natural thing in the world.

And so did kissing her. And so did going back to her apartment.

I was surprisingly shy and hesitant the first time. It would be
fair to say my gay bark was far more believable than my bite. But she was
gentle with me. And I think knowing we had all the same parts made me feel like
I could trust her.

So it was different than hooking up with a guy. After all, even
with men, I could be naked and still hide. But I couldn’t do that with Lydia.
Once I was naked with her, there was nothing to do except be present. Which I
did by trying to figure out if all her parts worked like mine did, if she would
respond to the things that made me feel good.

And she did. And it was an enjoyable few weeks.

Naturally, I was buzzing for a while after my foray into lesbian
love. I used to imagine that someday, after I’d entertained all the men I cared
to sleep with, I would settle down with a woman. I imagined that we would have
a deep bond that was much more than what I believed was possible with a man.
There would be no roles to fill, no speaking different languages. My final
years would be filled with mutual understanding, love, and gentle caresses.

It might’ve worked out that way, too, if I didn’t like getting
railed by cock so much. I could never give it up. Not unless I had to. Which,
for the first time in my life, I could actually imagine happening.

After all, I was becoming weaker by the day. More achy, wheezier.
Even my appetite for food was decreasing which meant anything was possible.

But I must’ve had some appetite left because all that thinking
about Lydia really made me want a tongue on my snatch.

So as soon as the drawing class was over, I walked out of the
art studio and pulled out my phone.

“Where are you?” I texted.

“On my way to pick you up?”

“59
^th
and LaSalle.”

“Five minutes.”

Four and a half minutes later, Craig pulled up in his beamer and
rolled the window down. “I’d started to worry you weren’t going to call?”

I slid into the front seat. “You’re so needy,” I said, flicking
my hair over my shoulders. “But thanks for coming to get me.”

“I take
where are you
texts very seriously.”

I smiled. Years ago, “where are you” had become our unofficial
booty call code.

“Where to?” he asked, pulling back into traffic. “My place or
yours?”

“Yours,” I said.

“You okay? You seem flushed or something?”

“I’m fine, I just… I just came from a nude drawing class.”

“Seriously?” His ball busting lawyer vibe disappeared.

I nodded. “So I’m a little worked up.”

His face lit up like a teenage boy who’s just seen Pamela Andersen
jog down the beach for the first time.

“Tell me you were the model.”

“I wasn’t,” I said, nudging him. “But I’ll sit for you if you
want?”

He smiled and loosened his tie. “That sounds amazing. I’m game.”

I ran my hand along his leather console. The car still smelled
brand new.

“But I should warn you, I can’t draw for shit.”

“That’s okay,” I said, my eyes straight ahead. “You won’t need
your hands for what I have planned.”

His elevator was packed with the city’s highest paid young
talent. Craig was in the back corner behind me. Everyone was doing their best
to avoid eye contact. So when two guys by the door started talking about a new
microbrewery outside the city, everyone focused on them. Except me. I focused
on fondling Craig’s cock through his suit pants.

When we got off the elevator, he put his hands on my hips and
kept me directly in front of him as we pushed our way out so he wouldn’t be
discovered. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

“You are bad,” he said, opening his apartment door for me.

I shrugged.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I think I’m okay,” I said, noticing his tent was still very
much pitched.

“Good cause I’m going to need you to get naked immediately.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said you would sit for me, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t have
brought you back here.”

I was suddenly aware of my heart beat.

He walked right up to me and looked down. “So strip.”

I pulled off my shirt.

He nodded.

I unhooked my bra and watched his eyes follow each strap as they
fell off my shoulders. Then I tossed my bra to the side.

His hands started for my boobs like they were magnetized.

“Ahh-ahh. No touching,” I said. “Not yet.”

His forehead wrinkled with frustration as I unzipped my pants,
pulled them off with my panties, and stepped out of my shoes. Then I looked at
him defiantly, turned around, and walked over to the large leather couch. And
like the model in the class, I lay down on my side and draped myself over a
pillow.

He swallowed.

“Your turn,” I said.

Without looking away from me, he put his jacket on the coatrack
behind him. His eyes swept my body as he walked towards me and unbuttoned his
shirt, revealing a chest so toned my mouth watered.

He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me. Then he
started undoing his belt. I watched his thick cock spring up against his belly.

I licked my lips.

He braced his arms on the back of the couch and put one knee up
beside me so he could lower his dick until it was within my reach.

I started by wrapping a hand around him and licking the
underside of his shaft, dragging my tongue slowly from the base to the tip. But
I didn't take him in my mouth right away. Instead, I returned to where I’d
started and fondled his balls gently with one hand before sucking one into my
mouth.

He groaned with enthusiasm as I swirled my tongue. Then the
moment I released him, he pulled back just enough that he could thrust his dick
in my mouth.

I felt him pushing against the back of my throat. I could tell
how hard it was for him to maintain control, how hard it was for him to keep
himself from becoming unhinged and fucking my mouth so hard I wouldn’t be able
to keep up. But he didn’t. He kept it slow. Until he couldn’t anymore.

That’s when he pulled out and moved over me. I got a glimpse of
his wet cock just before he dragged it against the length of my body, trailing
it slowly between my breasts and over my belly. It was like he was drawing, like
he was an artist after all.

Then he pushed my thighs apart with such force I knew he was
hungry for me. I watched him lower his head between my legs and held my breath.

He wrapped his hands around the front of my thighs and pulled
towards his face. I let my head roll towards the ceiling and arched my back as
he pressed his tongue flat against my clit.

First he licked me in slow waves, causing the energy to drain
from my limbs. Then his tongue became a pointed wand, casting circular spells
that left me dripping. After that he ate me with enthusiasm. Just like I taught
him to do the day we met in my office, the first time I forced his head down
between my legs.

Soon I was begging him not to stop, and he didn’t. Instead, he
fucked me with his tongue even harder until it grew so intense my words turned
to moans. When I began to shake and spasm, he pushed his mouth against me and
drank so greedily I thought I heard a slurp.

Just when I’d nearly caught my breath, he plunged his dick deep inside
me. But I was so wet and hot it didn’t take long for him to collapse in a heap
on top of me. And as he panted against my neck, I used my last bit of energy to
grind my hips against him, to squeeze him of every last drop.

Afterwards, we just laid there for a while, stuck together and reveling
in our own nakedness. And as his heavy chest expanded against mine, I felt so
satisfied. So full.

It was in that moment that I realized I loved him. Not in the
true-love-soul-mate kind of way, but in the way I loved anyone that made me
feel alive, anyone that ever shared something with me whether it was mind
blowing sex, a secret, or a contagious laugh.

And it wasn’t just Craig I loved in that moment either. It was
the whole world. And even though it was probably just the oxytocin, for a
moment, I felt like the whole world loved me back.

I just hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

The food court was packed that Saturday. And as usual, I was
preoccupied with wondering how many of the other customers were hiding a secret
like mine. How many of them were hiding the fact that for them, eating was an
anxiety ridden activity filled with doubt, stress, and confusion?

My latest strategy was to try and eat like Dawn: really, really
slowly. I thought if I focused on one bite at a time, I might be able to avoid
taking one bite too many and feeling like shit for the rest of the day.

Basically, it was the opposite of how I ate in a binge where I
just shoveled food in as fast as I could. To be honest, the only reason I even
stopped to chew when I was binging was because I knew the food was going to
have to come up again.