"Have you ever been with a younger guy before?"
We were passionately kissing in bed again, our hands roaming each other's naked bodies. I'd just been thinking of how and where to proceed from here. While my intentions of filth were finalized, ones of whether I wanted to rush into things or take my time with them weren't. On one hand we had the entire night ahead of us, on the other, I wanted and needed him so badly and again.
And yet I found myself in another predicament, and I assumed that Adam did too. I'd already made up my mind of fulfilling as many of his fantasies as possible in a single night, and potentially if not selfishly fulfilling some of my own in the process. Adam, amidst his reserved, timid tendencies, meanwhile, had yet to understand the notion that he could have asked of me whatever he wanted in that moment and it would be granted, no questions asked.
My question earlier of whether he wanted to do to me anything in specific had been answered once, but the allowance of further, different answers was still on the table. And it would be on the table for a foreseeable number of hours. Asking him directly for another fantasy to fulfill fell under the category of rushing, and I still hadn't made up my mind on whether doing so or savoring every moment were the correct option, so I was hoping he'd take the hint and ask for another dirty favor himself.
But that's where I think his predicament set in. Your brain would conjure up all these ideas of things you wanted to see or do or hear when the opportunity hadn't struck but then as soon as one did, you couldn't for the life of you remember the list. Like having a full inventory of your favorite movies ready to jot down in your head, but going blank as soon as someone actually bothered asking you for it. I wondered if that's what Adam felt like right now. He'd had for years all these thoughts and fantasies of things he wanted to do to me and me to do him in bed, but now that he finally had me in one, the list was proving itself difficult to remember. Or maybe he just felt overwhelmed by the options, unable in his greediness to pick just one. It could be either, or none. It could just be as simple and him wanting to take his time, too.
His hands were feeling up my tits, softly pinching at a nipple when he finally posed his question.
"Mmm, let me think." I pulled away from our kiss and looked up at the ceiling, attempting to remember as he continued his digital ministrations of my chest. "Younger by a year or two, yes. Anything more than that, never."
My gaze returned to his face and I saw a curious expression, his hands still pawing at my chest.
"Is that on purpose? Or that no one's ever tried?" He asked.
"I think it's both, but more probably the latter. I don't remember the last time I was approached by someone a lot younger." I replied, putting in effort to stay focused when he pinched harder on a nipple.
"That's crazy. You're so beautiful, there's no way someone hasn't tried."
I smiled at his compliment, but then held back a moan. His handling of my tits was getting rougher.
"I'm also older. So younger men probably feel a little intimidated."
Adam returned my smile, shaking his head in disapproval.
"Now that's where you're just wrong. How old are you?"
"Thirty-two." I replied matter-of-factly, but found it amusing that he didn't even know the age of the woman he'd been bedding. My entire inner turmoil had been over the fact that I was fucking an eighteen year old, that too the son of my best friend, but age was clearly just a number to him and he'd cared in the slightest just how old I could have been before making his move.
"Well, you don't look a day over twenty-five. I would say twenty, but I don't think twenty years old have, well, these..." He encircled his hands around my tits, groping them from outside-in and letting the abundant flesh overflow in his hands to make his point.
"And twenty-five years old do?" I giggled, but smiled wider at his flattery.
"I don't know. Just makes more sense than twenty, I guess. More time to grow and all..." It was his turn to stare at the ceiling in thought for a moment, before turning back and resuming. "Anyway, that disproves what you said about younger guys being intimidated by your age. Anyone would look at you and think you're mid-twenties at worst."
"Alright, alright, I concede." I laughed, his continued flattery only widening the smile on my face. I thought back for another couple of seconds, but then remembered.
"Well, there was this one guy..." Adam's ears perked up. "Last year there was an emergency at the company, and we had to work longer hours for about a week or two till it cleared up. You probably remember, Rachel would head back home pretty late those days too." He nodded, letting me continue. "Well, I'd be too tired by the time I got back home, so instead of cooking, I spent pretty much the whole week just ordering in."
Adam listened intently, halting his toying of my breasts but keeping his hands planted.
"Most nights it was pizza, and I'd always order from the same place - this one Italian joint. Ken was his name, I think, the delivery boy, and he'd always deliver my order. I don't know if he was their only delivery boy, or if he signed himself up every time an order from my address was punched. I realized later that it was the latter."
I trailed on my story, taking turns in staring at Adam's face and the ceiling as I narrated.
"Anyway, he must've been... nineteen? Twenty? Don't think he was any older than that, but he must've worked out a lot. Man was pretty attractive, and completely jacked. Reminded me a lot of the Ken from Barbie, actually. But with black hair instead of blonde." I giggled at my own joke, but Adam stayed focused. He was normally pretty receptive to my jokes, so I examined his face for hints of any jealousy, then continued. "So almost every night, he'd deliver pizza to my place, and a couple of nights in we started to make small talk before I received it. This one night he arrived right as I'd been getting out of the shower, so I had to quickly throw on a bathrobe and run to the door. I remember the way he looked at me, my body nearly spilling out of the only little robe I'd been able to find in time, and so wasn't surprised when he texted the next day, asking to take me out for drinks."
A very slight frown began to form on Adam's face, so slight that had I not already been looking for signs of jealousy, I wouldn't have picked up on it. I paused for a second, unsure if my story was making him uncomfortable and questioning the decision to continue.
"What did you say?" Adam asked, breaking my trail of thought.
"What?"
"What did you say to him? When he asked you out for drinks."
"Oh, right." The slightest of frowns remained on his face as I answered his question, the decision to resume having been made for me. "I didn't respond. I didn't like the way he'd taken my number from the restaurant without my consent. Plus he was way too young for me."
