And then we’re working together. I pump my fingers into her, and she rubs her clit at the same pace, and the onslaught of our combined touch is bordering on the edge of too much for her. This is my favorite part of the date so far. The teasing is fine, but being in sync with Jourdan makes me hard as steel. I feel something like this with Nadia as well, and knowing that I can experience it with Jourdan — that one day, she and I can feel this with Jourdan, together — feels too good to be true.

And just thinking my wife’s name sets me off. I’ve been turned on for too long, and Jourdan feels so good around my fingers. I can’t wait any longer. I need to come.

“Shit,” I hiss, unwrapping my arm from Jourdan’s back. I try to pull my shorts down — I need to get to my dick — but I can’t get them down fast enough.

I jolt when Jourdan’s wet fingers brush my wrist.

“Let me,” she says in a hoarse whisper.

We both watch as she slips her slender hand inside. She’s gentler than Nadia was this morning because, unlike Nadia, she doesn’t know what I can take. She’ll find out, and I’m in no mood to rush her. I like the carefulness of her, though; it’s a nice contrast to her forwardness.

Jourdan wraps her palm around my shaft and pulls my dick free.

I begin to fuck her pussy just as carefully. Her walls ripple around my digits, a small whimper falling from her lips.

“I want to come with you,” I tell her.

She looks up at me with a groggy smile on her face. “I thought I’d scared you away last time.” The mask of bravado has slipped. I can see the cloud of doubt in her eyes. For the past few days, I’d been terrified that I would fuck this up or that I might say or do something that might hurt Nadia or Jourdan or myself. I’d thought I was alone in that, but I wasn’t. That realization excites me and then makes me feel sad.

For all the time I’ve spent thinking about Jourdan, I haven’t been wondering if she was nervous like me, if she woke up early and tried on a number of different outfits. If she took pictures for a friend’s approval. If she drove here with big ass butterflies in her stomach like there were in mine. And I feel awful about that.

“I’m here,” I whisper.

We’re already a tangle of limbs, but I move my free hand up to the band of her sports bra. I snake my fingers underneath and lift it over her breasts. I watch her face as I circle her hard nipple with my thumb.