It Wasn’t That Scary (Patreon)

8.8.22 / 8.9

It Wasn’t That Scary

CW // NSFW 

You taste of the sea after a hot day beneath the sun. Salt and brine, the scent of a forest lingering nearby. You are warm, and you are wet, and the curls of your hair tickle the curve of my lips. My tongue caresses the tender parts of you. Your breathing changes, catches in your throat, and your stomach muscles tighten enough to cause a shift in your hips. You press into me, adjust the angle, grip my hair for a brief moment. I am in bliss. I think of how I could do this for hours. How I could submit myself solely to your pleasure, let myself drown in your flavor - in you. I wonder, for a moment, why I was ever terrified of this.

It is not an unknown that I am new to this - to being openly out, to intimacy with a woman. My knowledge of giving is limited - embarrassingly so. Perhaps I should not be so ashamed, not find myself wracked with guilt of being naive when I never held even the briefest of chances to explore, or learn, or be taught before this moment. And yet, I care about you deeply. I wish I knew more. I wish I knew more on how to give you pleasure, to guide you towards an orgasm. I do not wish to disappoint you - a word you hate, I know. I use it in a way you did not expect at first. When I uttered it, you expressed frustration, unwrapped your arms around me that caused me, for a moment, to fear I had upset you beyond repair. You believed my fear of disappointment sat with fear around your body’s response, around hurting you.

Yes, I always hold a healthy concern over hurting you. This is not abnormal. My high pain tolerance seems to offer an uncomfortable trade-off - I do not know my own strength, or how to apply it gradually. I cannot feel it, and this has resulted often in me causing accidental harm to others. I do not want you to be one of these others. But most of all, I did not want you to expect some great high, some orgasm so blissfully deep, that whatever I offer will pale in comparison. That you will find yourself uninterested in receiving from me again.

A part of me, the one that ties what I can offer to being worthy of love, fears that if I do not perform in a rightfully acceptable manner, that you may reconsider this whole “let’s live together and perhaps marry one day” situation. I know that to be foolish, I know that to be a deeper, more injured part of me to be whispering insecurities in my ear, but it is something I fret over. Something that terrifies me. Something I find dissolving with my mouth between your legs.

You tell me it would be like when you first urged me to touch your breasts, your voice as tender now as it was then. “Explore” is the word you use here - you are offering me space to explore. It is clear you are not expecting something mind-blowing, for me to be miraculously good at what I’m about to attempt. And that grants some peace. You brush your fingers along my face and I tell myself that if I wait, if I hesitate, I will hesitate forever.

So I kiss down your chest, and tease your nipples. I let my fingers trace lines along your skin, let my eyes flutter close to focus on the feeling of your teat beneath my tongue. I go lower, wrap my arms beneath your legs. And I explore.

I will never forget the feeling of my lips coated with you, of my chin soaked, of your moans ringing in my ear. I will never forget how time ceased to exist, how I wished to never move from my spot, to keep going until I had learned everything I needed to know, until I had made up for my naivety in the beginning. I suppose, in the end, none of this was as scary as I made it out to be. And I think that’s because of you. Because of your patience. Because of your love for me.

Thank you.