Her face in the throes of passion is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. By now her hands were on my head, pulling me into her. Her knees were pulled up to her chest; her pussy was wide open, welcoming and demanding.
God, I loved her. I sucked her clit between my lips, licking it with the flat of my tongue. I inserted a second finger into her pussy and worked her G spot. I heard her screaming.
Her whole body arched off of the bed. She was still screaming, but no sound was coming out. I felt her pussy clenching tightly around my fingers, her thighs clamping around my ears, her hands pulling my head to her middle.
I kept up the pressure, forcing her orgasm to higher and higher levels. Her arms were suddenly fluttering in the air, her eyes rolled back in her head. Finally she went completely limp, no longer able to actively participate in her own seduction. I kept gently eating her pussy, avoiding her clitoris. Her eyes were barely open, but she continued to watch the assault on her pussy. Before long I could feel her starting to respond again. The woman was deep in latent sexuality.
She reached out to me, beckoning me upwards. I took her hand and worked my way up her body. Our lips met, even though my face was totally covered in her erotic juices. As we kissed my cock slipped into her once again.
I began a slow steady in and out movement. My hips rotated a little as I moved, forcing my cock to slide around as well as back and forth. The feeling was exquisite. Her soft warm inner walls seemed to massage my dick.
We did that for a long time, gazing into each other’s eyes as I stroked in and out, round and round. I just had so much love for this woman. We were bonding in the way established by the australopithecines. It was as old as man himself, older than our species, the way Dee Dee and I made that intimate bond that belongs to every true couple. God, I hope she felt it too.
And then my passion came upon me. I started stroking in earnest, building up power, my lust overwhelming my love. I was slamming into her, eliciting a grunt from her with every stroke. Her legs wrapped around my hips as she gave herself totally to me. Harder and harder, higher and higher we climbed till there was nothing but the act of two people trying to achieve oneness through the intimate contact of their sex. And then oneness arrived. My dick seized, then sprayed shot upon shot of semen into her welcoming pussy. Her arms were around my neck, squeezing for all they were worth. She was deliriously babbling when her whole body tensed and a loud sharp scream signaled her orgasm.
We held each other for minutes afterwards. Deirdre’s eyes were closed as I kissed her neck, her cheeks, her eyelids and finally her lips. At last her eyes opened and the sides of her mouth curled up into an exhausted smile.
I thought I heard her whisper, "Death by fucking."
Part 2 Her Story:
I’ve done it. I’ve opened myself up to a man for the first time in many years, maybe for the first time in my life. I’ve had sex in the past, not often perhaps, but with several partners. I’m not an innocent young thing.
But that’s what I feel like. I feel like a virgin at the ball. I feel totally susceptible and yet totally accessible. What does that even mean? I’m vulnerable; very, very vulnerable. This could kill me. Can I take this kind of risk with this beautiful young man? I trust him. He’s good; deep down he’s good. But are we experiencing overpowering lust, or is there more to it? Is the lust based upon real values, true attraction? How can I know?
I’ve got to talk to Donnie. Maybe she can help clarify my emotions. I’ve got to get Donnie up here. She’ll know what to do, how to react. I don’t make any major decisions without my sister. I know that seems odd, but we are close; closer than any two sisters I’ve ever met. We are like two peas in a pod. When she meets Andrew perhaps she will be able to tell where physical attraction ends and emotional attraction begins. I’m afraid.
Andrew made love to me. I don’t swear very often. Momma and Daddy would die if they heard some of the things I’ve said to Andrew. I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘fuck’ a dozen times in my life, and yet here I am, thinking the word ‘fuck’ because that is the only word that applies. Yes, Andrew made love to me, but first he fucked me. What he did first could hardly be called lovemaking. It was fucking, pure and simple. I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked.
I had been without a sexual partner for four years. Perhaps I had some built-up passion that had been waiting to be released. Andrew released it all. I am incapable of any more passion than Andrew provoked in me.
We had just finished that wonderful animal-like fuck (I’m sorry but there just isn’t another way to say it). I wanted to be held. Andrew came into my arms and we kissed; a romantic, sensual kiss of gratitude and promise; gratitude for what we had given each other, promise of what was to come.
We talked. I wanted to know about this sweet man who had become the focus of my existence almost overnight. He’s from Ohio. He went to Youngstown State University. I had assumed he had majored in computer science, but I was mistaken. He majored in history! He is an endless well of surprises, all positive. Every time he talks, I learn something. He knows everything!
I asked him the obvious question. "Why are you in computing when your degree is in history?"
He gave me a non-committal shrug. It’s no big deal to him. He said "I built my first computer when I was eight. You just pick things up. You’re part of the community and you share knowledge. Before I was out of high school I could have run most of the IT departments I’m familiar with. Why go to school for something you can pick up independently?"
So I asked another obvious question. "Why history? What in the world did you expect to do with history?"
"Oh it didn’t matter much which major I took. I was mostly interested in filling in my gaps in knowledge, in my understanding of the world. I took liberal arts, since the ability to think is a dying art, especially in America, where the authorities want to tell you what to think."
"Andrew, I have a firm rule that I never talk politics in bed."
He smiled an apologetic smile and said, "Sorry, Deirdre. I do get carried away."
I asked him about his other interests. He’s interested in everything. He seems to have infinite obscure references at his fingertips. I’ve even heard him quote Betty Friedan. How many men can do that? How does all this information accumulate in one head? How is it so readily accessible for retrieval? He never seems to be stuck for a response.
So I asked him. "How do you know all this? What good does it do you?"
He laughed. "I know all this because my brain is a repository of totally useless information, and I remember almost everything I read. I can’t help it. It’s not a talent, it’s a curse. What it’s good for is to play Jeopardy. I could be a professional Jeopardy player and make a lot of money. I’m waiting for the National Jeopardy League to come into existence. I’ll be taken in the first round of the draft. They’ll be selling Andrew Adkins NJL bubble gum cards."
He builds these little imaginary scenarios that stand on their own but are just so ridiculous. How does he come up with them? I think it’s very funny.
I asked him about his family. He’s from small town Ohio, father is dead, mother still living. He has a brother and sister, both living in mid-western cities holding down professional jobs. He isn’t close to any of his relatives.
I wanted to know about his love life. After all, I’ve made it perfectly clear that I have no love life. I didn’t want to appear too obvious, and I didn’t want to appear like it mattered to me one way or the other about his current love affairs, since they really weren’t any of my business. But I found that it did matter. I wanted to know. I guess I wanted to know what my competition was. Still, I don’t do relationships.
He was very open about it. "I’ve had a few somewhat serious relationships. I’m currently seeing no one that I expect to become serious with, present company excepted, of course." (I felt a delicious tingle throughout my body when he said that.) "Nothing has panned out because I guess I’m looking for something that most women aren’t willing to give me."
This was interesting. "What is it that you want that you can’t get?"
"I want someone who demands a relationship that is equal and open. I want a relationship where both people accept responsibility for making the relationship work. There has to be an open dialogue. I want a woman who I don’t bore to death and who doesn’t bore me to death. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been easy to come by. I’m interested in things that a lot of people find deadly dull. I want at least an intellectual equal. My ideal woman would be smarter than me, I guess. I want someone who thinks, who challenges me with her mind."
"I don’t want to find out that my partner has been brooding about something I said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do. If I do or say or not do or not say something that hurts my partner, I want to know about it immediately, so we can address the problem and get past it. "
"My last relationship broke up because this girl had been mad at me for over a month and I didn’t even know why. To this day I don’t know and I don’t care why. All she had to do was tell me. I asked her, of course, but she was like ‘I should know what I did wrong without having to be told’. What we had here was ‘failure to communicate’. No relationship can survive that. I let her down as painlessly as I could, but I had to let her down. We had no future without communication."
"I guess I need a strong woman; someone who will tell me when I’ve failed to live up to expectations; someone who will insist that we work at our relationship every day of our lives. You have to have two people who think the relationship is the most important thing in their lives." He got a sheepish expression on his face. He said, "I guess another reason I haven’t stuck with a woman is that I do go off on tangents."
Well. I’m a girl whose every relationship has been built around the needs of the man I was with. I never felt that my opinions about anything really mattered to any of them. Mostly I was window dressing, and when they wanted an opinion from me, they would tell me what it was.
I’m a smart person. I’m not embarrassed to admit that. I’ve got my MBA from Duke, and am close to my doctorate. But in my relationships with men, I’ve always been treated as if I were intellectually inferior. I think it’s kind of a Southern thing. I would be earning twice as much as my boyfriend, but would be treated like a child. Is it any wonder that I gave up on relationships? I’m not good at existing in that environment.
And now Andrew is telling me his relationships failed for essentially the opposite reason. He needs a full partner. The women he’s been with wanted a traditional male-dominated relationship. Andrew just isn’t capable of that. He’s too sweet. He’s too considerate. He’s too smart. He needs a full partner.
I’m getting scared. He’s so perfect. How could anyone be so perfect? How could we fit so well together? We appear to be the pieces that will fit into each other’s puzzle of a life to make both of us complete.
I’ve got to talk to Donnie. Andrew requires full disclosure. He doesn’t ask for anything except honesty. I haven’t been totally honest with him. It’s dishonesty by omission, but dishonesty nonetheless. After I talk with Donnie, I’ll decide about full disclosure. We are a strange family. I just don’t know if Andrew can handle that fact. But of all the men I’ve met in my life, I think that Andrew is the one most likely to accept me as I am, accept us as we are. I’m getting scared. I’m not sure if I’m scared that he can’t accept us or scared that he can.
We talked and laughed for a while. Andrew loves to laugh. He finds humor in everything. We spent the evening together and we were either laughing or making love the whole time. He knows how to fill all the time you spend with him with only good things.
Suddenly Andrew had enough of talking. He started to kiss me. He kissed all over my face. He started on my neck. There is something so sexy about having a boy suck on your neck. I think it’s because it reminds me of high school, when girls had to cover those love marks. I even got them on my breast, but I never showed them to anyone but Donnie.
Andrew was doing all those high school-like things to my neck and it was giving me chills. He left my neck and went to my breasts. God it was like Andrew was the official breast inspector and he did all his inspections with his mouth. I’ve never had my breast so thoroughly inspected. His tongue was tantalizing. Under the circumstances, perhaps I should say, it was titillating, if you know what I mean.
I was totally passive throughout this process. I just laid there and let myself be loved. He is an expert at loving me; it seems he is the expert at loving me. Finally his mouth moved from my breasts to my belly button. His tongue just assaulted my belly button. It was such a sensual feeling. My state of arousal had been climbing, and now it was approaching a peak.
I don’t know why I am so naive. I finally realized where Andrew was heading. My God, he was going to put his mouth on my sex! No one has ever done that for me. And we just finished making love. I was dripping with my own juices and with Andrew’s juices. I must have been a mess down there.
Yes, I will admit that I have dreamed of someone doing that to me. Had Andrew told me he wanted to do it, I would have been properly prepared. I would have bathed and cleaned myself down there. I would have perfumed myself. Lord, I would have tied a bow around it. But not just after we made love!
Andrew was in total control. I had abdicated all responsibility, so I really couldn’t object to what he wanted to do, if he wanted to do it. That’s what I told myself. It was out of my hands. Thank God it was out of my hands. His fingers were teasing my sex, making me crazy.
And suddenly, his mouth was there! His tongue licked a path right through the center of my pussy lips. It may have been the most wondrous sensual feeling of my life. His mouth was doing wonderful things to me. He claimed to be a history major, but I think he got his degree in pussy eating. I had to watch.
He caught me watching. I’ve never seen a person who enjoys his work as much as Andrew. I could see it in his eyes, his beautiful deep brown eyes. Our eyes met and I knew. He loves me. He worships my body. He loves to give me pleasure. How could the act of a man going down on a woman be so romantic? Andrew was making love to me with his mouth, and with his hands, and with his eyes.
When we had intercourse that was just fucking, primal primitive mating. But now we were making love. It was so sensual, so lovely. I reached down and held his head in my hands. I just wanted to touch him. He was so relaxed, so unhurried. He seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be and would stay for as long as I let him.
I know that when ‘tongue’ becomes an Olympic sport, Andrew will win the gold for length and strength. And he is a shoe-in for the tongue marathon. He’s been graced with two perfect sexual organs. I’m so lucky!
God, Andrew started working me over. He was playing me like a violin. I would almost be to my peak of passion, and then he would bring me down a little. Then he would bring me close to my climax again. I couldn’t believe it! He knew my mood. He knew what I was feeling. I became more and more aroused. My hips were pushing my pussy into his mouth. My legs were squeezing his head. The poor boy must be suffocating. I couldn’t help it. He had me so hot!
Oh, his fingers were in me. His mouth seemed to suck in my clitoris. He began to gently lick it as his fingers rubbed inside my passage. I screamed. My orgasm erupted! My body arched so high he almost fell off of the bed. But somehow his mouth stayed clamped to my pussy. His tongue pushed me higher and higher. I had achieved a continuous orgasm, but my oxygen supply was gone. I collapsed onto the bed just trying to breath. And still his mouth was on my pussy, loving it, massaging it, worshiping it.
I have this person, this perfect wonderful handsome young man, and he worships my pussy! When I was sufficiently recovered, I reached out to him. I had to hold him. I had to feel him holding me. He came up and our lips met in a soft sensuous kiss.
And suddenly his rock hard erection was slipping into me again. It felt wonderful. It filled me to the brim, making me stretch to accommodate its width, feeling its length touching my cervix.
He was in no hurry. We looked into each other’s eyes as he slowly pumped in and out of me. I felt us bonding. I’ve never bonded with anyone except my sister. But this man, this wonderful loving man, made me feel so full of emotion that it kept threatening to come out my eyes. I held back my tears. I forced myself to hide them.
We kissed again, so passionately, so lovingly. I was giving myself to him fully. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words, but he must know it! I won’t say it. I can’t say it till Donnie says I can. I know that sounds weird. I am weird. But if body language counts for anything, he knows. I can’t give him more of a commitment than that at this time. It wouldn’t be fair to him or to Donnie. But I love him.
That mutual, unspoken, acknowledgement of our feelings of love was what it took to move Andrew’s lovemaking to a different level. He had been in me forever. How long, really? It must have been close to an hour. And that was after he had eaten me for at least an hour. They were the two most wonderful hours of my life.
Andrew almost instantly reverted to the madly passionate boy he had been when he first came into my room. He was suddenly pounding me. Powerful and more powerful strokes were igniting me with waves of passion, waves of love, waves of lust. I wanted to hold him and kiss him forever. I wanted him to feel just a tiny bit of the ocean of emotion that had welled within me.
He was riding me wildly. I was whimpering with my need. I opened up for him, made myself totally vulnerable for him. I spread my legs for him, wrapped my legs around his waist to give him deeper and deeper access to my being. I thought I would explode from the passion.
And suddenly the wave broke. I felt his hardness swell within me. I felt wave upon wave of liquid warmth filling my pussy. I was shaking with my release, screaming, then mouthing wordless noises, my body clenched on him, feeling only his wonderful penis as it spasmed its last shot within me.
It’s impossible to describe my feelings. I never suspected there could be a time like this for me. He loves me. He said the words, but more importantly he told me with his eyes, with his mouth, with his heart. I believe him.
I love him. I haven’t told him, but he must know. I’ve told him with my eyes. I’ve told him with my arms. I’ve told him with my heart. He must know.
To achieve that passion, that peak of emotion with your true love is the most perfect moment that we’ve been given on this earth, outside of childbirth. I never even suspected that this feeling was possible. How could I?
My body is awash in sexual satisfaction, brought on by a romantic, passion-filled coupling with the love of my life. I’ve never felt so complete. I’ve never felt more loved. I’ve never felt more love. I’m dizzy with the overflow of my emotions.
Life can be wonderful and it can be awful at the same time. I’ve got two weeks to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
-- to be continued
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