“Float. Think of nothing.” Amanda kept telling herself as Ethan lifted her legs up his shoulders and slid in and out of her slowly.
Amanda removed her legs from his shoulders, opening herself wider as she closed her eyes, letting Ethan take control of the rhythm. He thrust harder, holding her waist, kissing the under-swell of her breasts.
Amanda ran her fingers on his spine, her other hand raking his hair as she smelled his curls, heady with the scent of musk, of sweat. She arched her back, offering her breasts to be licked, her hips wanting more.
“Float, come on! Think no more,” Amanda told herself. But reality continued to seep through her mind. She opened her eyes and felt it.
She saw Ethan looking at her, frowning in ecstasy, sweat clinging on his chin. She saw his tool pumping in and out of her pink folds, urgent, demanding. She hears the humming aircon and felt its coldness creeping beneath the warmth of their connected bodies.
They’ve been in the hotel room since last night. It’s almost past lunchtime. She lost count of how many times they had sex. She hadn’t come. Not even once.
“I don’t want another failure.” She whispered irritably. Her friend, Alice asked her yesterday while she’s waiting for Ethan’s car.
“Why do you fuck the guys you date, just like that?”
Amanda said because she’s horny and her dates are hot. Well it’s true. But it’s not the whole truth. She lost count of how many men she had dated. How many overnight trips to the hotel she had made with them. But she can’t tell Alice that none of these had satisfied her. She wondered if the fault is with her.
“You think too much, just float.” She reminded herself again as Ethan’s thrusts became more insistent. He hugged her tight, biting her earlobe, whispering his groans of pleasure.
Amanda closed her eyes, opening her legs wider, telling Ethan to thrust faster.
“I hope this will be the last time. Come on, Ethan.” Amanda thought.
She hated the first man who had her. Hated his sweet tender touches, his tongue on her labia making her gyrate like a belly dancer. She hated that night he took her. She was holding on to the headboard moaning loudly, feeling the tension she feels when she touch herself. She thought, “Finally this guy would take me there where stars burst and one loses herself, floating in anonymity. Amanda moaned louder as the man held her tightly, driving inside her faster and faster. I’m getting there, she thought. And I’d love this man who would take me there.
Amanda waited for that final tug that would bring her to that uncontrollable burst of oblivion. The man moved his hips around her, stroking her, dipping inside her faster, harder, faster. Amanda opened herself up, giving him everything. She waited. Almost there. But the man suddenly cried, “Oh shit.” And collapsed on top of her.
Amanda opened her eyes, looked at his glistening back. She wriggled below him, hoping to revive that limp rod which almost took her there. But nothing happened. She never saw the man again after that night. Her other dates received the same treatment. And now Ethan.
Amanda felt that building tension again.
“… that building tension where the characters will be buried in their lives’ conflicts. This tension will bring them to the climax. That part of the story where each one of them will face their enemies, their fears and will decide the fate of the story.” Amanda remembered Alice explaining in a writing workshop they attended together.
Alice writes love stories. Like those of Mills and Boon. Amanda is into drama and thriller. She cannot write erotic. If she starts one, she tears it unfinished.
“Without climax, I don’t think the story is worth reading. I mean nothing exciting to look forward to.” Alice commented and Amanda just nodded beside her.
“Stop thinking, float…focus.” Amanda banished the workshop from her thoughts and tried to match Ethan’s thrusts; clutching his hips, pulling him deeper and harder into her.
“Take me there, Ethan!” Amanda whispered urgently as the frustrating overnight trysts seeped back into her thoughts.
Ethan kissed her on the lips, so slow, so gentle. He touched her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Amanda saw a calm storm. Something stirred within her with his eyes. He continued to thrust inside her but no longer with urgency. He was tender, slow and sweet like his kisses. Ethan traced her cheekbones with his fingers. He caressed her arms like the way he strums his guitar. He brushed her breasts lightly. He held her hand and crushed her small fingers in his palms.
Amanda lost the building tension, the prelude to climax. She wanted to slap Ethan, to push him away. But his eyes held hers. Ethan closed his eyes and Amanda remembered that night she saw him in a café, strumming his guitar. She didn’t remember the song. She has eyes only for his fingers, his closed eyes and the peaceful rapture she feels as he sings. He would close his eyes as she reads her poems to him, laughs at her comedy stories and his eyes would sparkle in her dramas.
Ethan moved his hips leisurely, kissing her jaw, her neck, felt the vibrations of his humming in her chest. She let go of the fading tension, embraced his hips with her legs and drifted with him. She listened to the tune and remembered the lyrics. It’s a song they made together one afternoon when it’s too hot to make love.
She felt a block on her chest when she remembered the song they made. And she suddenly wept as he reached the chorus. Ethan kept on humming. His hips moving into the rhythm.
He let Amanda weep. He was used to her sudden emotional outbursts, the shifts in her needs and feelings.
Ethan kissed her tears, wonder on his brows and he hugged Amanda. She hugged him back, kissing his ears, his eyes, his lips. For the first time, she didn’t think of coming.
When the song ended, Ethan kissed her, crushing her lips, his tongue searching her neck as his manhood probed deeper, thrusting with urgency. Amanda raked his hair, caressed his back and moaned his name over and over. Ethan whispered her name huskily as he clutched her waist and drove so fast.
Amanda’s head swayed. Her mind held no color, no face. Just full of that warmth below her. She felt it in her breasts, in her mouth. She shouted as that tension returned and she felt herself tightening. Something wants to come out as she lost her hold of Ethan, as she floated. There’s a burst of light opening wider. Ethan thrust faster, harder. And that light burst on Amanda. She shouted with no sound, blinded by the light. Ethan grew still and moaned loud. It was a long time when Amanda opened her eyes; she can still feel herself throbbing down there. She can still feel Ethan inside.
She touched his cheek tenderly, blessed him. Ethan held her hand and kissed it. He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“Thank you.” It’s all Amanda could whisper. Ethan said nothing, rolled on top of her and hugged her.
“I got past the tension. I’ve finished my story, Alice.” Amanda whispered.
And she loved the man who took her there.