Still kissing her, I began fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. They were small and slippery, and undoing them with one hand was impossible. I groaned, frustrated, and she started laughing.

I pulled away and sat up, looking down at her. “My ego, of course, is unshakable, but you might consider that laughing at a man in this situation isn’t a great way to fill him with confidence.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you at all,” she said. “Is this your first time with a girl? Do you need me to explain how to unhook a bra?”

I could think of at least five snappy replies, but I held my tongue for once and simply gazed at her. This was what I had wanted, and now I had it: Sasha mocking me, her eyes filled with laughter, her face flushed and her mouth wet. I would never get enough.

“I’m just kidding,” she said.

“I know,” I said, and ran my thumb along her lower lip. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I learned how to unfasten a bra in the eighth grade.”

“Yeah, and I bet you were fucking your way through the cheerleaders by the time you hit high school,” she said. “But I like pretending I’m the only one for you.” She reached up to unfasten the first button.

Well, she was the only one for me now, but I would never tell her that. I couldn’t imagine sleeping with another woman, not after I’d had my mouth on Sasha’s tits, and heard the little noises she made when she came. She had ruined me for good. “You’re right,” I said. “I’ve never been with a woman before. You’re my very first. Be gentle with me.”

She grinned, her eyes crinkling. “We’ll go slow, then. Why don’t you take off my shirt?”

I took my time unbuttoning her blouse. The tease, after all, was half the fun. As I slipped each button through its tightly-stitched hole, my fingers brushed against her skin, and she twitched slightly each time. Ticklish, then. Something to keep in mind, and exploit at a later date. When I reached the bottom of her shirt, I spread the placket open, revealing the lacy black bra just barely containing her breasts. I exhaled slowly. Fancy lingerie was cheating. It was all I could do not to fall on top of her and take her right then, foreplay be damned.

“Now you should take off my skirt,” she said. She drew one of her legs up and planted her foot on the bed, and the skirt rode up and pooled at her upper thigh. I took the gesture as the invitation it was and slid one hand up her thigh, very slowly, and realized she wasn’t wearing panties an instant before my fingers brushed against her bare flesh.

She was wet already, slick and swollen. “Jesus Christ,” I said, “don’t you ever wear underpants, woman?”

She laughed. “Sometimes. I like getting some airflow, you know?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Please tell me more about this. Do you go commando on the subway?” I liked the idea of her sitting across from me on a crowded subway car, wearing a short skirt and slowly spreading her legs to show me her pussy. I had a feeling it wouldn’t take much persuasion to talk her into some exceptionally naughty public sex. In that same subway car, maybe, during rush hour, both of us standing up, Sasha holding onto a pole and doing her best not to cry out—

Down, boy. Stay focused. I had no need for fantasies when the real thing was right here, waiting for me to touch her. I caressed her thighs, her skin smooth and soft beneath my palms, and slid her skirt up around her waist. She was pink, luscious, and all mine. I dipped my thumb inside, and then slid it up toward her clit, rolling a slow circle around the tight nub.

“Well,” she said, and blew out a little puff of air, already distracted by my fingers. “It’s just nice, you know, feeling the—breeze—ah—”

I had ducked my head and put my mouth on her, and she lost the thread of her sentence after that. She tasted good and smelled even better. I settled in for a long, slow exploration, licking her first with the broad flat of my tongue, and then firming it to a point to flicker over her clit. I loved everything about going down on a woman, and Sasha wasn’t shy. She didn’t try to hide herself or apologize for imagined flaws. She ran her hands over my head, her fingernails scratching lightly at my scalp, a maddening tease.

My cock throbbed with desire, but I wasn’t done with her yet.

I pressed two fingers into her tight heat, giving her something to bear down on, and she sighed sweetly and flexed around me. The hot clutch of her body made me think, unavoidably, of sliding my cock inside and fucking her until we were both too worn out to move or think.

“Don’t stop,” she sighed, and I smiled against her. I had no intention of stopping.

I could tell when she got close, because her steady breathing turned into desperate pants, and her legs began shifting against the bed, restless. She moved her hips in tiny rocking motions, working herself against me, rubbing against my tongue—and Christ, it made me hotter than it should have to realize that she was using my mouth to get herself off.

I redoubled my efforts.

It didn’t take long after that.

“Alex, oh,” she cried out, and tried to pull me away. I ignored her. Her body spoke to me in its timeless language, and I knew she didn’t want me to stop. Her hips arched against me, her cries growing louder in the quiet room, and I sucked at her clit and twisted my fingers inside of her, curling them up toward her navel. She made a high, sharp noise, almost a squeak, and came, shuddering, squeezing around my fingers, throbbing beneath my tongue as I eased her though it.

When she quieted, I pressed a kiss to her thigh and drew away, my mouth wet with her desire.

She was sprawled, red-faced, panting, and each breath shoved her glorious tits one millimeter closer to spilling out of her bra altogether. She was sweaty, disheveled, and perfect, and my cock was hard and raring to go. I gave her a minute to recover, and then I said, “You’re still wearing too many clothes. Strip.”

She sat up and shrugged out of her blouse, and I took it from her and tossed it on the floor. I didn’t care if it got ruined. I would buy her another one. Then she lay down again and arched her hips off the bed to tug off her skirt. She shoved it down toward her feet and kicked it off the end of the bed. Clothed in nothing but her bra, bare from the waist down, she rolled to face me and said, “I’ll let you do the honors.”

“Mm, and what an honor it is,” I said. I slid one hand behind her back and found the clasp of her bra. In one motion, I squeezed and twisted, and the band opened up.