The couch

Amber Dextris

We sat on the couch.

The early mornings after hard parties had always been a time of recuperation during which we sat silently and smiled ashamedly (for drinking too much and taking too many drugs) at each other while sobriety slowly refilled our veins. As roommates, we'd bought that couch together and agreed to split the money when we sold it again in two years' time when varsity was over and we had concentrated on growing up. I'd had other guys on that couch. Often you'd creep past the morning after to make coffee and have a ciggy in the kitchen while "X" and I napped, all sexed-out, on the couch. You refused to tell me of your couch escapades, but I knew. Sometimes you would never guess that I'd snuck into my room while you were chatting up some girl downstairs before inviting her in. Shit, man, the things you'd make those girls do. Ha.

This morning was no different from last Friday, or the Friday before that. There we sat. Silence hovered as usual. You smoked a cigarette in the dark and I sipped a mug of tepid coffee. What's the saying? Something about "drinking coffee won't sober you up … you'll just be an awake drunk". My head was heavy and I pouted a little. I'd hit on a cute boy, but he must have been gay to shove me off the way he had. You were too quiet and aloof this morning not to be thinking the same thing that I was thinking. Why hit on other attractive people with the intention of bringing them here, when we were here already?

I didn't need to ponder this for long.

With my legs drawn up against me, I was badly attempting to provide myself with what you were supposed to be giving me. You were too far away - not even half a metre, but too far - and in the dark I couldn't see your eyes, but I'm quite sure they were calling me.

At first, I moved only my feet across in your direction, my toes creeping towards you, and then the arches of my feet rested on your thigh, where my hands should have been. I looked up into the blackness and I could feel your eyes on me - questioning. You didn't turn your head. You continued to stare blindly into me while you touched my feet with your hands, stroking them gently. If only you knew what that was doing to me! Instead of pulling me towards you, you were the one who moved closer to me, came into my corner.

You pulled my legs over your lap, hoisting me up; our faces close. Even though we were so close to each other, I couldn't see your face and we were anonymous to each other. No pasts, no futures, just the present. I smelled fresh Camel Lights drifting in the air around our heads. I could feel your breath - light and raspy - on my lips, right before you kissed me; just a little breathy kiss, wetting both of our mouths. I was suddenly light-headed and you felt like a ghost, a creature of ether holding me hard against you. That first kiss put hours behind us in mere seconds, and just before you wanted to pull away, I caught your lower lip gently with my teeth. Don't stop. You kissed me again, harder this time. Tentative at first, your tongue found mine, and they played in both our mouths. Your hands (on my back) pulled my body against yours and I felt the inhibiting clothing between us, especially when you touched my breasts and my nipples hardened painfully against my top - so close to your fingers, and yet ... not.

I pulled away, mumbling something about the clothes, but you got there before I did, and began removing both of our clothes haphazardly - your shirt, my top, my pants, your socks.

"I want to see you," you said. You grabbed your lighter and lit the candles on the coffee tables - two on the right, four on the left, and two on the main coffee table.

You smiled when you saw I wasn't wearing underwear, and you touched me unexpectedly. First it seemed as if you were gently going to stroke my inner thigh, but you leaned over and kissed me as your fingers slipped between the folds and found the simmering moisture. Your tongue and your fingers were welcomed with the same response, and you read my mind when I imagined what your tongue would feel like where your fingers were.

You changed position almost instantly, moving down my body, circling your tongue on my skin ... from my chin to my navel. From there you placed soft little kisses down my belly, your thumb finding my clit, teasing it out. I couldn't believe you were actually going to go down on me …

And then you licked me, and heat and white pleasure surged, rippling under my skin. It didn't take you long to figure out that long, slow, contact strokes protracted each wave of pleasure, while close, quick little circles with the tip of your tongue got me there faster. You manipulated my responses, controlling the way small moans or long sighs wafted over my lips.

Four minutes. Four minutes it took you to make me whisper, "Oh, god …", and when my head tipped back and I did that unavoidable little spine-arch thing, unmistakably orgasmic, I dug my fingers into the couch and begged you to stop, as much as I wanted to beg you to continue.

You teased. You asked me whether I wanted to wait a few minutes before you drew out an even longer orgasm, simply with tongue, and lips and fingers. You came up and lay next to me, waiting for the answer.

"I want to do that again. Do you want me to?"

I smiled slyly at you while I sat up and leaned back and opened my legs so that you could see me touching myself. Had you wondered about those nights that neither of us had managed to score at the club, whether I was in my room touching myself the way you enjoyed watching me do it now? Just when you began to enjoy it, I drew my fingers out and licked them, tasting my juices. Who's the tease now? While you were caught in the subtle glow of surprise, I slid silently down your body, my hands working on getting you as naked as I was.

As I dropped your pants to the floor, you lay your head back and sighed - your erection was simply undeniable. On the nights that you didn't know I was listening, I heard you ask the girls you'd brought home to tell you in plain, dirty language what they wanted. Some of them would leave without fulfilling your indecent wishes, but when the others humoured your requests, even I got off on their pillow talk, standing just out of the doorway but within earshot, diddling in my pyjamas.

"Is this a novel thing or have you had hard cock for me all along?" I asked, referring to the past year that we've been roommates.

You surprised me with being a little shy, but there was nothing little about the reason for your shyness ... and my breath quickened as I thought of taking you inside me; about how you'd fill me up, leave me gasping at the extent of the pleasure we'd give each other.

My tongue traced the smooth edge of your tip and you drew in a sharp breath when I took you fully in my mouth. You grunted against becoming vulnerable to me, but you did nothing to prevent it. Your dick was a lot harder than I imagined it could ever have been, and you slowly thrust your hips upwards while I sucked you off, long and protracted.

Your head was back and your eyes closed, so I traced my tongue up your shaft one more time before I sat up.

"Don't open your eyes ..." I said as I straddled your lap, holding your dick up underneath me. A slight apprehension made me shiver and I forced myself to relax. You must have picked up my hesitation.

"We can stop if you want …" you said, obviously disappointed by the chance that I may very well suggest it. I didn't want you to think that I wasn't up for this, so I said,

"It's okay. I just need to relax because I know how much you're going to stretch me when we fuck."

I watched your face as I said it and your eyes opened almost as wide as your mouth. What? Did you think I was just your quiet, nerdy room mate all of the time? Taking a deep breath, I lowered myself onto you - first just wetting your tip to reduce the friction.

You patronised me with your unsteady command: "All the way, please ..." I complied, sinking down onto you and swallowing you up inside me. You looked up at me as my body adjusted to your invasion. Prickles of pleasure and undoing ran along my hairline, my arms, beneath my nipples, and down my torso as I began to ride you.

Your hands gripped my bum to steady my rhythm with yours, as I slid up and down your dick, and you slipped in and out of me to the tune of abandon. We slowed to allow the sudden rise in pleasure to abate so that we could draw out the orgasm and enjoy each other's naked presence more. I lifted myself off you and a look of desperation flashed on your face. You got the picture, though, and sat up, pushing me against the couch, clasping my hands in yours and making me hold the top of the couch. We were both on our knees - you behind me - and I waited for your rushed entry, looking for what was becoming a familiar heat. You teased me, lingering behind me, touching me, sliding your hands between my legs and playing with me with your fingers.

I whispered, but you didn't hear, so you leaned over me, your chest pressing hotly against my back. "Huh?"

"Just push inside me again. Go deep ..."

Not wasting another moment, you thrust forward, my body giving way to you and engulfing you with sex. When I could feel that you were about to let go, I braced my body against the couch and whispered loudly, "Fuck me 'til you come."

And we did.

Two more years of sharing that couch sped by. The memories we'd created (the stains we'd left and subsequently cleaned off) on that couch made us sell it for a lot more than it was really worth. A girl bought it and I asked her in for a cuppa while she waited for her two digs mates to come and fetch her and their newly-acquired furniture. In the 15 minutes that we waited and drank coffee, I almost took the couch back, thinking of all the sex that you and I could still have on it before we parted in two weeks' time.

"My digs mates are here …" the girl said. I expected two other girls to come in and take our couch away, but two guys climbed out of the bakkie and started loading the couch onto the back.

She was a sexy girl and her digs mates were cute, roguish guys, and when I lie on my new couch in my new apartment, I still wonder if our couch worked the same magic for the three of them as it did for us. Can you imagine them in the dark at 2 am on a Saturday morning, having been unable to score?

… The chick leaning against one guy's shoulder while the other one rubs her feet?

… One of them squeezing a breast while the other one reaches up her skirt …?

LitNet: 31 January 2006

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