by LaShayne
Sitting with her on his couch after the performance
of O'Neill's The Haunted, he reached out to touch her forehead,
brush back a lock of strawberry blond hair. She squeezed his hand.
Carol was twenty-six, just three years younger than
he was, but a vulnerability in her face, at moments, made her seem
only eighteen or nineteen. At the same time there was a wistfulness
in her eyes, a wariness of expecting satisfaction that revealed
a maturity close to his own.
He moved to kiss her cheek, and she met him with her
lips. The evening had so far been a pleasure; his excitement suddenly
rose with the gentle movements of her tongue. She sensed it, rubbing
his stomach, getting fairly low. When his hand circled one large
breast she showed no sign of discomfort, so he brushed across the
nipple. He noticed her cheap perfume.
"You're a wonderful man, Jack," she murmured.
He smiled. "Remember we've just met."
"Right now you're really pleasant, and I feel safe
with you."
"I hope there's no reason not to."
They kissed again. It crossed his mind, as it had
before tonight, that it would be a good idea to spend more time
getting to know her. But his quickly flowing arousal drew his words
out naturally: "Would you like to spend the night?"
Her neck stiffened just a little; the wariness of
her look increased by two shades. She nodded. "I'd like that." A
pause, and cautiously: "But I don't want you to feel like I'm seducing
you, and I don't want to feel like you're seducing me."
He pulled her to him and embraced her fully. "You
want to feel that we're really with each other?"
Quietly: "Yes."
"Do you feel you're really with me now?"
"Yes."
"And I feel like I'm really with you."
He felt her breath in his ear -- "And I'm happy" --
then her tongue.
He sat up, looked at her. She smiled with comfortable
fondness. Casually he stood, holding her hands, and she did the
same.
He led her from the living room to the bedroom, turning
on the light. For a few moments they faced each other. Simultaneously
they leaned forward, were immediately wrapped together. He was a
full head taller; her longing was apparent as she stretched to suck
on his lips and tongue.
He began to unbutton her blouse, and the pressure
of her body made manifest her eagerness. Still, he sensed an uncertainty
in the way she held him -- as though their interaction was eliciting
difficult emotions. After two buttons he paused; her response was
to push her boobs intently into him, so he continued.
Her hands went quickly to his shirt. When he got to
her last button she had already bared his shoulders, was stroking
his lean chest and abdomen. His fingers caressed her round belly.
She gasped so suddenly at his touch, surprising him, that he looked
at her face: her eyes were closed, her mouth solemn, her expression
almost trancelike -- anticipation. Affection bubbled over in him
and he kissed her mouth; she kissed back with pronounced appreciation.
His lips moved downward, pausing on her neck, then
to her very impressive cleavage. After he had licked her roundness
and the skin in between, she eased down the straps of her plain,
somewhat discolored bra and let the cups fall away. Her breasts
held their shape nicely without support. He didn't think he'd ever
seen boobs at once so sizable and so firm. He said evenly, "You
have beautiful breasts, Carol." She unclipped the bra.
Once more she pressed into him; her smallish, very
tight nipples against his abdomen sent his excitement soaring. He
hugged her, kissed her forehead, and her posture told him that she
was fully receptive. He placed a hand squarely on her breast, wanting
its warmth. Slightly but abruptly she jerked backward. When he took
his hand away, she looked up, threw her arms around him, made as
much frontal contact as possible. Then she took his hand and directed
it back to her glorious peak; she nudged him softly, with some uncertainty,
then with reassurance.
Her face was in his chest, and he looked down her
gently contoured back. She was undoing his belt. It was easy for
him to reach the back of her skirt, the button, the zipper. The
skirt fell to the floor just as she was having trouble getting his
pants past his muscular thighs; he finished the task for her. He
noticed the small runs near the crotch of her green hose as he removed
them. Again their bodies enlaced. His hand slipped into her underpants
to feel hefty buttocks, a bit of sweat. Grasping his penis with
one hand, making him tingle all over, she lowered his briefs with
the other. He followed her cue.
Grazing his fingers through her light brown fur, he
just touched the wrinkly skin at the base of her mound. He whispered,
"Let me look at you," and took a step back.
Her hips were wonderfully wide, a complement to her
boobs; she had a chubby hourglass figure, lovely mid-twenties femininity.
Still, the soft curves and slight pinkishness of her flesh kept
suggesting fragility. That quality was emphasized by the look in
her eyes: unsure, somewhat lost. He reminded himself to be careful
and responsible -- as he had several times over the previous few
weeks when their relationship consisted mainly of conversation.
Even their first time out together, a late Sunday breakfast, she
had made clear her attraction -- expressed as a confidence, which
he didn't understand but which flattered him, that he was the man
to whom she wished to confide some of the sordid spots on her past.
They lay in bed, enveloping each other in passion.
It was a warm night and he had left the window open; a breeze rustled
through the curtains. He excused himself to light the candle on
the nightstand then switch off the ceiling lamp. In the flickering
glow her huge, gorgeous boobs cast shadows on the surrounding skin.
He couldn't help pressing his face into them, in between, sucking
hard on her nipples. Her breaths were turning to a quiet, high-pitched
moaning. As much to reassure him as herself, it seemed, she repeated,
"You're a wonderful man . . . you're such a wonderful man. . . ."
He put a hand on her crotch, rubbed a little, found
the opening. She stiffened; he sensed an emotional recoil. As a
reflex he lifted his hand, lifted his face. She looked back, smiling
sweetly, her eyes clear. With one hand she guided his own back between
her legs, with the other she pulled his head to her tits. "You're
a wonderful man, Jack." More slowly and cautiously he suckled, and
after a moment he eased a fingertip into her. His arousal was spinning
out of control; without trying, this pleasant, somewhat awkward
woman was engaging his libido with a force.
Two fingers inside her, he shifted his position, moving
his face to the base of her heaving belly, his wet lips in constant
contact with her flesh. He rubbed his nose in her fine hair, kissed
her mound and the area below it, nudged at her clit with his tongue.
Her dripping was profuse; her odor and taste were pleasant, subtle,
only slightly pungent. In a moment she moved too: he felt her plunge
his dick into her mouth, and somehow she was squeezing, sucking,
and tongue-fluttering over his entire length at once. The extreme
excitement took him by surprise -- as did the abruptness and eagerness
of her gesture, so swiftly effected that it seemed almost dutiful.
Uneasiness came over him.
He raised his head, and in as mild a voice as he could,
"Carol." She stopped. "That feels wonderful, but I'd really like
for you to just lie back and enjoy me eating you." Her expression
was puzzled, maybe even a little hurt.
He resumed, and she gave every appearance of enjoyment;
her sighs were now fully vocalized. As she writhed beneath him he
felt stiff enough to burst.
Moving to her side, he lifted the sheet to wipe his
mouth, but she clasped his neck and yanked; she licked and sucked
all around his lips.
Her mouth now to her ear, "I love to taste my twat
all over you!"
He laughed, kissed her forehead, then leaned over
to the nightstand. From the drawer he took a condom, unwrapped it.
"Would you like to put this on for me?" he asked.
"Yeah!" She grabbed it.
He felt her hands on his cock, concerned with giving
him pleasure even as she performed this little job. She wasn't having
an easy time with it. He thought he would shoot off if she kept
touching him, so he reached down, tapped her hands until she yielded,
and rolled the rubber down.
She lay on her back, spread her legs, pulled him by
the arms. On top of her, he quickly kissed each cheek, her mouth,
her neck. As his hips descended and his organ touched her flesh,
she gasped and stiffened again. He raised himself. With concern:
"Carol, are you okay?"
"Yeah," she said. "You're a wonderful man, Jack."
"I want you to feel comfortable."
"I want to feel you inside me, Jack." When she repeated
his name he had an odd, momentary feeling that it didn't belong
to him.
He eased downward again. She was so drenched that
his cock slid easily, and not too quickly he pushed all the way
in. He gyrated, cautiously increasing his speed, and soon she matched
his rhythm, her whole body involved in the motion. Her gasps were
becoming mild screams. He ran one hand underneath her back, to her
bobbing, fleshy ass, feeling in the thickness a natural musculature.
His wide-open mouth was on each of her breasts. Her cunt hugged
him with such heat that he barely noticed the condom.
When he lifted his head her expression looked almost
too intent, too avid, her breathing too deep. He was on the brink
of saying something he'd never said before to a woman: Please don't
feel the need to fake anything for me. But he stopped himself --
just then, on every bit of her skin that he could feel, she broke
out in a hot sweat. The pressure in his pubis was building uncontrollably.
Before he could slow down he squirted, and squirted, and continued
to squirt; he heard himself scream.
He dropped onto her. She wrapped him in her arms and
legs, kissed his face as he tried to catch his breath. As soon as
he had recovered some awareness he reached down, grasped the rubber
at the base, and withdrew. He had poured out so much he thought
it must be overflowing. He rolled off her, removed it, tied the
open end in a knot, and tossed it next to the bed.
She whispered, laughing slightly, "That sounded great."
"Oh, yeah." He gave a wide-eyed nod. "I'm sorry I
came before -- "
"It was wonderful, Jack. Don't worry -- I'll get there,
but it takes me a while. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not. You're a wonderful woman, Carol --
let's take our time together."
They held each other close, enjoyed a prolonged kiss.
He rolled onto his back, not leaving her clutch, keeping both hands
on her; every curve on her radiated splendidly. It was the intensity
of her carnal energy that had drawn him to her over the preceding
weeks -- combined with her vulnerability, neediness. It was the
latter that had also set off some quiet alarms: reminders that he
should really be patient, befriend her thoroughly before responding
to her overtures -- before getting too close to the areas of her
past rustling in her psyche and posing her immense struggles. He
still hardly knew what those areas were; but he was pretty sure
they were tangled up with her vital, sinuous sexuality.
Her fingers and tongue were at his nipples. He felt
the onset of a new erection in anticipation of her incredible mouth.
In the face of her utter irresistibility, he doubted his capacity
to maintain the considered distance he would need to care for her
as she deserved.
Copyright © 2001 by LaShayne. All rights reserved.
