Relationship Bliss

I was a happy woman. Truly happy.

Colin and I went to the same college. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a decent computer engineering program and, most importantly, an excellent dentistry program. That’s right. My sweet, lovely Colin dreamed of being a dentist. Putting long, hard objects in people’s mouths to avoid talking to them? Yeah, that sounded like him.

As for me, despite me being a complete stuck-up bitch in high school, I was a competent student and never developed a burning hatred for math. My mom had been gently nudging me toward STEM subjects my entire life—and by gently I mean yearly STEM-oriented summer camps and extracurricular programs. I loved her to ****, but subtlety was not her thing. New semesters were always… fun. Being a woman, especially an attractive one, in a large class dominated by men was a joy for the first couple weeks. I did have one advantage. Years of being a stuck-up bitch were training me for college. I learned quickly that being friendly often was just, ‘leading them on,’ so I figured if they were going to hate me either way, I would rather be an aloof bitch.

Colin said I could have a ‘resting bitch face.’ I don’t know what he was talking about. Yeah, I got intense when I was focusing and didn’t want to be disturbed, but so did everyone else? It certainly never stopped guys from constantly hitting on me whenever Colin wasn’t around. Besides, I didn’t care how other guys saw me. The only one that ever mattered was Colin, and his goofy ass always made me smile.

After a year of officially dating, we got a small place together near campus and have been living together for six months. Mom always said living together was the real test. It’s easy to like someone when you go back to your own space after a few hours with them. Only when you were locked in the same space did all the little things have a chance to grow into big things. For Colin and I, that was never a problem. We had been attached at the hip for practically our entire lives. He knew I was a bit of a slob, and I knew he kept everything immaculate. After some adjustments, we met in the middle. I wouldn’t treat the floor like a laundry basket and take any used dishes out to the sink… eventually. At the same time, I managed to convince him he didn’t need to scrub down the fucking toilet three times a week.

Seriously, Colin! Once a week is fine.

Moving in together had built up a lot of dread in me. Mom made it sound like it was going to break everything, but we settled in nicely. Sure, we butted heads on some things, but communication had never been an issue with us. After years of me spilling my guts about every little thing in my life, telling him we didn’t immediately need to run a load of dishes through the dishwasher after every meal was simple. And he was more than happy to chuck empty take-out containers at me whenever he saw the state of my office area.

Yeah. I get they go in the trash. What does it matter if it’s immediately or a few… uh… days? Days. Going to stick with days. Pointing out we hadn’t had Thai food in two weeks helps no one, Colin.

Really though, we got along great and I’d been worried about nothing.

Not that things were perfect. Once we had made it clear that we were in a relationship and started talking about things, it became clear that Colin and I had extremely different sex drives. It was a bit painful to hear he hadn’t been enjoying things as much as I thought he had and drove home how much I had been taking him for granted. Yeah, he could have spoken up about it, but at the same time, I could have asked. After all, I knew him. The man was one of the most non-confrontational people I’ve ever met. He was a sweetheart through and through, but it also let people walk over him. I should know. I did it for years. Getting him to open up was like pulling teeth.

Ugh. His shitty humor was infecting me.

The real shock was finding out how large the guff was. To keep things honest, we both wrote down our ideal sex life on post-it notes and passed them to the other. Seeing once or twice a week written down made me regret my answer—once or twice a day. The look on his face as he set the note down; the patient smile.

“Joking,” I said, reaching for the note. My face was burning, undoubtedly matching the color of my hair. “Obviously.”

“No you aren’t,” he said in that soft, calming voice of his. “You’ve always been sexually needy.”

Hearing that made my face heat even more. I couldn’t even look at him. “Why didn’t you say you weren’t enjoying it?” I hated how the tears were coming. Of course they were. Shame and embarrassment and guilt were a potent cocktail. I felt like that selfish, stuck-up teenager all over again. Everything had been a lie. I’d been too focused on what I wanted that I never considered what the man I loved wanted.

“Erin,” he said, reaching over to gently **** me to look at him. “I always enjoy it. I just… don’t feel the same level of drive you do.” He smiled. “Time with you is never wasted.”

Fighting back the tears, I wiped my eyes and gave him a grin. A light punch on the arm for no other reason than it felt right. “That is the kind of talk that gets a man laid.”

His grin matched mine. “That sounds like an offer.”

The playfulness was sucked from me with a simple thought: was I forcing him? I knew what I wanted, but what about him? The number on the paper showed the difference between us. Forcing him to go along at my pace wasn’t fair. Not after all I’d—

His kiss distracted me.

I pulled away. “Colin, we—”

With his second kiss, he brushed his hand over my cheek. Already, the switch was flipped. It didn’t take me much to get going. Always was a bit of a zero-to-sixty sort of girl.

One time, I could resist. Two?

Not fair.

Throwing my arms around him, I pulled him in. My kisses were hungry. Demanding. I wanted what he was offering. The silent promise of what was coming. More than anything, I wanted him.

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. Not for his lack of trying, but what I wanted, I wanted now. Why bother with the bed when the table did just fine? We didn’t even have time to get clothes off.

Both arms braced against the table, my jeans were pooled at my legs, panties pushed aside. There wasn’t much need for foreplay. Not when I was like this. As I said, I was a zero-to-sixty sort of girl. Still, he reached around, kissing my neck as his fingers worked between my legs. His breath on my skin, lips tenderly pressing against me sent a pleasurable tingle down my back. His whispered compliments tugged at my heart.

“You are so wet,” he teased, slipping a finger inside me. I moaned in response, breathing hard as my body craved what came next.

Colin didn’t keep me waiting.

At a hair under seven inches, I let out a content sigh as he entered me. Even after all this time, all the sex we had, I’d never tire of this feeling. The pleasure. The satisfaction. The feeling of something empty inside me finally getting its matching piece. That it was Colin that made me feel this way only made the entire experience better. It was moments like this I felt closest to him. Connected in a way talking could never achieve.

I loved it.

I loved him.

The way he thrust against me, filling me and sending pleasure through my body. The cute sounds he made as he enjoyed the mutual pleasure. How he blended the tender touch of his hands and lips with the powerful, needing thrusts of his cock.

Mechanics wise, the entire experience was awkward and I loved every second of it. The clothes made it hard to move, and thrusting too hard caused the cheap table to scrape against the floor. The first time it happened, I nearly busted my face against the table when my legs tangled in my jeans. Giggling like an embarrassed schoolgirl, I guided him back in we awkwardly flopped around, him driving me forward while I did my best to counter his forward movement with my own. Just when we were getting back into the groove and the passion was ramping up, the table shot forward another few inches.

Growling in frustration, Colin pulled out—immediately getting a cry of protest from me.

I fully admit I am an aggressive girl in bed. Always have been. Today was a rare treat for me, Colin taking over the role I usually played in bed. Spinning me around, I let out a yelp as he lifted me and unceremoniously dumped me on the table. Shoes, socks, jeans, and panties went flying over his shoulder as cold wood met my ass. Didn’t have time to complain or even think about it as he pulled me to the edge and drove himself into me.

As much as I loved him behind me, seeing his face made it all the better. The look of concentration he had. So serious! He was **** to please me, giving me everything he had. I loved the rare moments he was like this, abandoning himself to the pleasure of it all. The need to feel pleasure and to give it.

Yet it was different. A dark thought took root as I watched his lovely face scrunched in concentration, throwing the entire experience into murky shadows.

Was he really enjoying this, or was he pushing himself to please me?

The question ate at me the entire time. No matter how I tried to push it down, ignore it and focus on the wonderful joy of being with the man I loved, it never left me.

“Erin.” Hearing my name pulled my thoughts to the present. He was panting, struggling to hold on as he kept his rapid pace. Trying with all his might to last a little longer. So that I could enjoy this that much longer. “I’m going to cum.”

My breathing was strained; my eyes never left his. “Do it,” I gasped. I wanted him now more than ever. I wanted to listen to more of his stupid jokes. To see that goofy smile. Embarrass him with some lighthearted teasing. “Cum for me, Colin. I need you. Inside.”

He gasped. At the last second, I felt him pull away. My body revolted at the sudden emptiness as I gasped in surprise. Seconds later, his cum splattered against my shirt as he let out a series of long grunts. With only the sound of our heavy breathing, the silence weighed on us as cum dribbled against me.

Our eyes met and I gave him a soft smile. “I said you could cum inside.”

“Not wearing a condom.”

Feigning anger, I pushed him away. “So you decide you can use my shirt as a cum rag? I like this shirt.” It was impossible to hide my smile despite my best effort.

He took a moment to run his eyes over me. “I don’t know. Looks better that way.”

“Great.” Pulling it off, I chucked it at him. Legs tangled in his jeans, he nearly fell back on his ass as my shirt covered his face. “You can have it then,” I said, giggling from his impromptu dance with balance. Hopping down from the table, I rubbed my hands over my cold bum, hoping to warm it up a little. When I looked back, I caught him staring.

With the wrong cheeks heating up, I narrowed my eyes at him. “What?”

“Just admiring the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I don’t know what kind of expression I was making, but it was enough to kill the goofy grin he had.

“About earlier,” I started, realizing I had no idea what I wanted to say. “This… This was great, but I don’t… uh… I don’t need it. If it’s not something you want to do—”

He pressed his finger against my lip, silencing me.

“Forget about that.”

Not that he enjoyed it. Forget about it.

Ignore it.

I pushed him away. “Don’t,” I said in a low voice. “We are not going to forget about it. I know you hate conflict and would rather continue as we have, but we are not leaving this room until we talk about it,” I said, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at him.

He sighed. “I want you to be happy.”

“Uh-huh. You really think I am going to be happy knowing you are miserable? That I’m taking advantage of you?”

“I’m not—You aren’t.”

I let my face fall to its natural state, fixing him with a stoic stare.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away. “Can we at least get dressed first? You’re distracting me.”

Looking down, the only thing I had on was my bra.

I grinned. “I suppose it is a bit chilly in here… Besides,” I said, making it very clear where I was looking. “Who is distracting who?”