The Beautiful Kind

The phone rang.
“Wolfy! I knew you would call.”
“Oh yeah, how come?”
“Because it’s the full moon.”
“It is?”
“Mm hm. We met on the full moon, you know. You had your way with me…” I trailed off, remembering the wild evening a month ago. I wanted to turn the tables. “So, are you coming over?”
“You want me to?”
“Of course I do. But. Last time we fucked, afterwards you told me you did it in a moment of weakness. What a thing to say! I’m not interested in inspiring moments of weakness. I’m interested in inspiring moments of strength. So you can only come over if you are strong.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh get over here already.”

He arrived, awash with nervous tension. I led him to the couch in the dimly lit living room and told him to sit down.
I stood in front of him. “You aren’t to do a thing, got it?”
He just stared at me, but closed his eyes when I leaned down to kiss his rough cheek, his ear, his neck. I nuzzled on him and he reached for me. “No,” I said, and gently pushed his hands back down to his sides.
In the shadows he could peek down my tank top and inhale my sweet scent.
I rubbed my hands and body against his chest. I sank to my knees in front of him and and worked my way down to the hard bulge in his pants. I grabbed hold of his belt and slowly undid it. I unbuttoned his fly and reached in to unleash his glorious cock.
“Do you want me to kiss it?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
I did, then asked, “Are you weak or are you strong?”
He blinked, swallowed. “Strong.”
“Good.” I took him in my mouth, swirled my tongue around his head, worked my way up and down his shaft, sucked him until he could barely fit in my mouth. He groaned and muttered, reached for my head, then stopped himself.
I pulled away and stood up.
I gazed into his eyes as I stepped out of my panties. “Are you still strong?”
He nodded, growling with desire.
I straddled him, hovering over him, my thigh muscles tight. I knew he wanted nothing more at that moment than to feel my wet heat envelope him. I slowly pushed myself down on him. It took my breath away. I rocked into him.
He moved his hands to grab onto my hips, and I once again moved them back down to his sides, and this time held them there, our fingers entwined.
“You are strong,” I whispered in his ear.

Did I lie to him? Or did I tell the truth?