It had been a long, bumpy flight, I hadn’t slept, and I was feeling skeevy around the edges. Needed something to hone that edge off, so I stopped at an old friend’s up in Laurel Canyon before going to my hotel and picked up a few joints. Decent stuff, but I wished I’d brought my tin from New York – unfortunately, not with airport security these days.
Anyway, I checked into my room up at the Four Seasons– the quietest place when I’m in town on business. It was about 9 in the evening, midnight east coast time, and I had meetings tomorrow. Just enough time to light up a bone and kill a few brain cells on the balcony before drifting into slumberland.
Which is what I was doing when the door to the balcony of the room next door popped open and a young girl rushed out. I palmed the joint and looked innocent while she sniffed the air. Looked to be late teens, long brown hair down to her waist, wearing a Good Charlotte T-shirt and jammy shorts. Looked pissed, like someone was having fun and she wasn’t. Cute, with big eyes behind clear round glasses, even if they were narrowed at the moment.
“Do you smell that?” she asked.
“Smell what?” I answered. Just some guy her dad’s age catching the air.
“Nothing,” she said, and went back inside, closing the door. I paused then took a long draw off the joint, held it in my lungs and felt the day’s bullshit start to fade. Bam, she was out on the balcony again.
“Are you getting high?”
Exhale. Sigh. “Yes. Is it bothering you?”
She laughed, sharply, impatiently. “Only if you don’t share.” Her smile was there but distant. All business.
I shrugged and reached over, handing her the joint across the three feet of air that separated her balcony from mine. She snagged it easily, held it to her lips and cupped it, fanning the glow. Looking at me without trying to look like she was doing it; that was fine, since I was doing the same.
“You don’t even know what that is,” I said. “Could be laced with anything.”
She paused, looked more directly at me. “You’re not the type, though, are you?”
I shook my head, held out my hand. She passed the joint back. We were silent for the next few minutes, passing it back and forth, both taking in the sight of L.A. stretching out before us. I didn’t know about her, but the wind sweeping up from the flats always gives me the weirdest sensation of warm chills when I get to the city.
She broke the silence first. “That’s nice shit.”
“Thank you.”
“You just get here?”
“Mm-hmm. How did you know?”
She shifted her gaze away.
“There was a different couple there this morning. My parents and I heard them arguing.”
“I’ll be quiet. I’m just sleeping here; I’ll be off on business tomorrow.”
I passed her the joint.
“Nice that “you” get to go somewhere.”
That brought me up. “How’s that?”
“My parents are at a party tonight, and I’m not allowed to go.” She sighed. “Some record label bullshit for my dad to schmooze at and my mom to dress up and feel like she’s my age. I stay here. Not for “kids’. They don’t want me cramping their style.” She noodled on the joint until I motioned for her to pass it back. “‘My parents took me to Los Angeles and all I got was this lousy hotel room,’” she said with a laugh. She flipped her hair back with a naïve cynicism that was actually pretty touching.
“That well and truly sucks,” I said, and I meant it. I remembered the vast gulf between who I was and who my parents thought I was when I was that age. “What, are you supposed to watch Disney movies all night?”
“That’s pretty much the plan,” she said. “I’ve seen “em all, though. Not the Disney, but the regular movies. And my dad would bust me if I tried to look at the porno.”
“Only thing to do is raid the mini-bar, then.”
Her laugh an annoyed bark. “Bastard took the key.”
This struck me as just plain mean, so I went back into my room, pulled two beers out of my fridge, and came back out on the balcony.
“Catch.”
That caught her by surprise, but she was good – she caught it. And I got the first unforced smile I’d seen from her.
“Hey. That makes my night.” We popped our caps at the same time and raised bottles to each other. She sipped, then thought of something. “Be right back.”
She came back with a cellphone and put it on the little plastic table on her balcony. “They said they’d be checking up.”
“So, this is your first time out of the nunnery?” I asked.
She smiled at that too, but tried to hide it. “My dad owns a bunch of record stores in Des Moines. Iowa. This is his big yearly trip out west to meet and greet. He takes my mom usually, but last year he figured out that if he doesn’t bring me, I’ll throw a party while he’s gone. He’s right.”
I shrugged. “Couple of days in L.A. – what’s not to like?”
“Staying in this hotel room every night while they go out and act like teenagers. Sick.”
I laughed. “Rapunzel.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah… I hadn’t thought of that, but yeah. My hair’s not long enough, though. And where’s my prince?”
“Don’t look at me, lady.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, pal.”
The tone was light, joking. This was clearly the first actual conversation she’d had in days. She raised her head, listening, and peered inside.
“Hold on a second – no, I thought it was them. Listen, I’m going to have to toss you this beer if they come back all of a sudden.”
“How old “are” you?”
“18, but 12 in their eyes.”
“You could take a walk outside.”
“I could. I did. There’s not a lot to see.”
“Wait a second.”
I went inside and opened the door connecting our two rooms, then went back out, telling her she could open her door and put the beer just inside my room if it came to that.
“Hm. Okay. Hadn’t thought of that. Are you a perv?”
“Not tonight. Too tired.”
She gave me the once over, decided I wasn’t immediately dangerous, and went inside. I heard her open her connecting door and expected her to reappear on her balcony. She outfoxed me; the next thing I knew she was on “my” balcony, sipping her beer and picking the joint stub out of the ashtray. I nodded, and motioned for her to sit.
“I’m sorry, I had to get out of that room.”
“I understand. The view’s so much better from here.”
We sat in silence for a long while, just taking in the night. I admired her legs – long, tan, an interesting scar on her left knee with a story behind it I’d never hear – and smiled at the orange toenails in blue flipflops. Her chestnut hair was thick, glossy, draped about her shoulders and waist like the folds of a shawl; it was her pride, and she knew it. Ears a little big and sticking out, lips full and ripe with contempt for the world, chin sharp but soft, eyes a dark brown and rather stoned at the moment. If she had a body, I really couldn’t tell under the oversized T-shirt.
The lights of late-night Beverly Hills reflected off her glasses, making her appear owlish, oracular. I’d begun to peg her as a good girl who only recently had figured out the pleasures of being a bad girl, and smart enough to still use the former as a cover for the latter. I could tell I was crossing her signals, getting both girls at once and probably something close to who she actually was.
After a bit, we started to talk. I told her about my job, my ex-wife, my girlfriend, my girlfriend’s kid. She told me about her boyfriend, her tastes in music and books and movies, her dog. It was as if we were sitting on a porch in the country, half-baked and old friends; a pleasanter time I couldn’t imagine. So it threw me for a loop when she asked, “You ever watch porno?”
I coughed and hacked like a boy with his first joint, and she cackled at that.
“Excuse me?”
“You ever watch “adult movies?’” Air quotes.
“Of course I have. Who wants to know, and why?”
She shrugged. “I saw a few recently, back home. My friend works at a videostore. She brought over one of the gay ones.” She made a face that was half horror and half awe.
“I tend to stick to the male/female variety, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I liked it. Made me…” She drifted, then snapped back into focus. “Why do you watch them?”
“Why do you think? They turn me on. The good ones do, anyway. Are you sure you want to be talking about this?”
She ignored me. “Do you, um, you know…”
My turn to laugh. “Do I what? Get myself off?”
“Yeah,” she asked, looking out at the night, her ears an unusual shade of crimson.
“Of course I do. That’s what they’re “for”. Don’t you?”
“I’ve never tried. I mean, not with a video. I did, though, after my friend went home.”
Silence.
“It was good, I take it.”
She grinned. “Oh, “man”.”
I smiled. There was a shoe waiting to drop, but I had no idea what it was.
“Does your boss get mad if you watch them in your hotel when you travel?”
The other shoe dropped. I didn’t answer immediately, just rolled the infinite number of conceivable responses around in my head. I chose the one that left as many doors open as possible. I left her sitting on my balcony, went to the TV facing my bed, cued up the adult film menu, came back out and handed her the remote.
“Go to town.”
“What’s this?”
“You want to watch a sex flick, go ahead. Your parents won’t be any the wiser, and I’ll sit out here on the balcony and read.”
She sat looking at the remote like it was the Rosetta Stone.
“Your boss won’t mind?”
“I am my boss.”
A pause. “How do I know you’re not going to try anything?”
“Because I’m not. Because you’re a nice kid and a cute kid but I’m not into seducing nice “or” cute kids just at the moment. Believe it or not, I’d rather read my book. Close the balcony curtain for all I care.”
She grinned to beat the band. “Yeah, you just want to smell the sheets afterward. ‘Cute kid.’ Fuuuck you. All right, let’s see what you’ve got.”
We went inside, and she thumbed through the menu of offerings. The titles made her blanch and make gross-out noises, but I could tell she was intrigued by all of them. She finally chose something called “Trading Pussies,” a hardcore goof on home improvement shows, and was all ready to select it when she stopped.
“Where’s my cell?” she asked, and ran back to her room to get it. After a pause, I heard her talking to someone, and from her exasperated drone, I could tell it was a parent. She came back in, holding her cell phone and rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, we’re good. Man, are we good. My mom is dragging my dad to an afterparty up in the hills. They won’t be home until three.” She stood there looking at me with big, innocent eyes that said “So…?” until I got the hint, grabbed the novel I was reading, and went back onto the balcony. I didn’t close the curtain, but she did. I noticed, however, that she didn’t close it all the way. In fact, I didn’t even have to move my chair to have a view of her sitting lotus-legged on my bed. So I didn’t move my chair.
I tried to read my book. Really, I did. Even with the low, insistent sounds of video fucking leaking out from inside. I stared at a paragraph for several minutes at a time, telling myself not to look up. When I finally did, she was staring at the screen, her mouth a stoned O of amazement and incipient horniness. The cold blue light of the TV played across her face and legs, and I noticed her hand dandling between her legs. Not doing anything, mind you.
The next time I looked up, her eyes slid away from me so quickly I almost missed it. I went back to my book. The plot was interesting. I think there was a plot.
She wasn’t looking at me when I next shifted my gaze. At least I think she wasn’t; her glasses reflected the TV tube, like twin coming attractions. Tiny figures conjoined and humped in her lenses. I kept watching, bad old me. Her right hand had dropped into the open leg of her shorts, and she leaned back against the pillows, stroking herself so gently that I wouldn’t have picked up on it if not for the slow rhythmic pulse of her hips. I felt the blood divert to my cock and the warm, happy stiffness of erection. Her hips pistoned a little faster; her hand busied itself more frenetically, and her mouth hung open in astonishment and lust. I don’t know what was going on on the screen, but it was doing the trick. After about five minutes, she hunched over, gave out a quiet cry that was just loud enough to reach me on the balcony, and held absolutely still for a long stretch of seconds. Then she relaxed with an audible phlump against the pillows and diplomatically rearranged her shorts. This time I could tell she looked at me, and I slid my eyes away.
But not for long. There’s only so much I can take of a carrot like that at the end of a stick like that. I sighed loudly, closed my book with an audible snap, rose, stretched, and stood in the doorway to the room. She looked at me like God’s own archangel.
“How’s the dialogue?” I asked
Smirk. “Lacking.”
A pause. “You want to come see.” Not a question but a neutral offer.
I nodded. “If it’s okay with you. My curiosity is piqued.”
“Is that what you call that?” she asked, looking at my hard-on.
“Someone who comes all over other people’s bedcovers has no business making fun of other people,” I said, and she blushed – blushed! I hadn’t expected that. For a brief moment she looked her age.
“Can you keep your hands to yourself?”
“Of course,” I said, sitting on the bed a good ways behind her and getting my first decent look at the on-screen action. It was what it always was: a silicon bimbette sucking the swollen johnson of some anonymous mullethead, to lousy music. Stimulating, yes; interesting, only if you’d never seen one before.
We watched in silence for a minute or two, her cross-legged with her back to me. I discreetly stroked the hard edge of my cock through my jeans.
“Do guys really like tits like that?” Her question broke my fugue state.
“Implants? I guess. Not all of us do. Why, are you feeling insecure?”
“Baffled, more like. They don’t “move”. Why is that a turn-on?”
“Because it’s a fantasy, maybe – closer to the plastic blow-up girlies in the magazine. Less threatening than a real woman. Personally, I like “em life-sized.”
“Ha. You’re just saying that.”
“Suit yourself.”
Pause.
“What about mine?”
“What “about” yours?”
“Are they threatening?” she laughed.
“Do you want to know if I think you have nice breasts? I can’t tell. You haven’t shown them to me.”
“And I’m not going to.”
“Right.”
She thought for a bit, then cinched her loose t-shirt tightly around her chest. I could see her curves more clearly; surprisingly womanly for a girl her age, and I told her so. She seemed to like that.
“Trust me for a second,” I said.
“Why should I?”
“All right, don’t.”
Long pause.
“Okay.”
I skootched up behind her so her back was almost against my chest, and gently cupped her breasts with my hands. A quiet intake of her breath, but she stayed with me, and I simply let my fingers wander over her, feeling her nipples respond, enjoying the sensation of warm, firm, yielding skin, doing little more than exploratory caressing. And then I stopped.
“Believe me, you have nothing to worry about,” I told her, and we went back to watching the movie. But now there was something else in the room.
After a minute or two of the onscreen actor with a dick as big as an anaconda, I said, “Besides, if we’re talking about insecurities, guys have it much worse.”
That broke the tension. She guffawed and said, “Poor little man with the poor little penis.”
“Please, it’s not “that” little. It’s just not a genetic freak of nature.”
“Yeah? Let’s see.”
That stopped me cold, and she could see it in my face. “Okay, you’re right. Let me feel.” And before I could stop her, her hands were running down the length of my shaft as it pressed up through my jeans.
“Jesus. That’s… that’s pretty impressive.”
“Average, but thanks.”
“Maybe I’ve been hanging out with below average guys.”
She was still massaging my cock – the beer, pot, and movie had conspired to put her in a daze of quizzical horniness – and the friction was getting me bothered. I could either stop her, or fight back. I reached around and let my thumbnail graze up her leg and press along the inner seam of her shorts. She relaxed into my chest with a little yawp.
“Ah, god, what’d you do that for?”
“Should I stop?”
“Ah… Hum. no.”
And so we sat there for maybe ten minutes, leaning into each other at an oblique angle while our fingers wandered and wondered and twinked and stroked. Her eyes stayed closed; she let out a low humming sound as my knuckles glided up the leg of her loose shorts and along the slippery outer lips of her pussy, very tentatively at first and then with a stoned, insistent rhythm. My fingertips found the grooves on either side of her clit and slid back and forth, tugging sexy, helpless huffs and grunts out of her. I liked the way her glasses slid down to the end of her nose and the way her long curtains of hair parted and opened in front of her face as she rocked.
For her part, she found my zipper soon enough and freed my cock, but she was getting so bothered by what I was doing to her that she wasn’t able to do much to me. Fine; getting her going was reward enough. Our foreheads touched as I stroked her higher and higher and she ran her uncertain hands up and down my shaft; our eyes closed and our breathing gradually sped up. When I ran my free hand under her shirt and circled a rough thumb around her nipple, stubby and hard, she moaned in pure lust and then laughed at her own loss of control.
“Do that again?”
I peeled the nightshirt up and over her head, leaving tendrils of long brown hair floating down in the charged air. Her arms instinctively crossed her breasts and then uncrossed, as she chucked her self-consciousness, lifted her chin, looked straight at me. It was a clear decision: She gave herself over to my gaze.
I had a sudden impression of an odalisque, of a woman of deepest confidence from another age. Here I was in a hotel room at 11 at night, stoned off my ass and diddling an 18-year-old girl, and it felt like I was in the back pages of a Henry Miller novel, sailing into the unknown with a fellow traveler. She was beautiful – womanly, as I said, with curves that her fall of hair only accentuated, and breasts that were neither small nor large but that were simply hers. I ducked my head and grasped a nipple between my teeth, lightly rolling it and hearing her “oh” of pleasure. Her grip on my cock suddenly tightened; her hands pumped me roughly.
“Easy there,” I said and tilted her back onto the bed, shucking my shirt but leaving the pants for the time being.
“Are we going to fuck?” she asked me. Asking permission. I thought I’d string her along a bit.
“I don’t know. There’s something I want to do first.” That brought the look of alarm in her eyes and I had to laugh. Still caressing her pussy, I said, “Look. I will not hurt you. This is as bizarre and enjoyable to me as I hope it is to you. Maybe less weird, but whatever. All I want to do is make the top of your head pop off. And I don’t have to do it with my cock. Yet.”
“What if I want you to?” she asked as I kissed slowly down her neck, to her collarbone – oh, that is my favorite part of a woman – to her ribs and belly, then used my teeth to tug her shorts down to her knees. No underwear.
“I’d say you talked a good game,” I said. “How much of this have you actually done?” She slid the shorts down to her ankles and off, allowing me to kiss her thighs and nose my way up into her tangle of mossy pubic hair, to where the heat and the funk was. She smelled ripe, clean; maybe she’d been taking a lot of showers out of boredom. The movie was long over by this point and the bedcovers were a mess. Any social niceties had ceased to be observed. She jackknifed around and brought her lips to my cock.
“Hello Markus. Fine, how are you?”
“Good, good. I hear you got your grant, congratulations.”
“Thank you. Markus, this is my boyfriend, David. David, this is the man who told me I needed to seek institutional counseling.” She said it with absolutely no malice, and David was reminded once more why he thought this woman was so totally sexy. She was the sharpest tool he had ever found.
“Thanks, dude.” David stuck out his hand, standing. In the full upright position, he was still a bit shorter then the man, but he was broader, and probably had a good forty pounds on him. The grip he delivered was a vise, making the man wince. “I appreciate you letting her go in time for me to make a move. I would have hated having to steal her from you.”
“Ahh, yeah…I didn’t ever really say…”
“It’s cool man. Have a nice day.”
He released the grip, and the man looked down at her, then back at him, realizing that the younger man was slowly inching closer, and closer, and closer. Involuntarily he backed up, looking down at the black shirt. “What does Matador mean?”
“We were working with the Spanish Navy, and I got talked into doing this amateur bull fight.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You ever eat the meat of something you’ve killed with your bare hands?”
“No…”
“I didn’t think you had. You don’t look like the type. Weak stomach, happens to the best of ‘em.” He lightly tapped the man abs with the back of his hand, making him flinch. “Anyways, because of the way the bulls are raised and trained, they have a very high ratio of muscle fiber to fat cells, and if you stab them just right, you don’t puncture any internal organs. Great meat, but you need a certain…quality…to get it.” He smiled at the man, a toothless, malevolent smile, and the other backed up again.
“Well…nice to meet you! Jennifer.” He nodded to his ex, took one last look at the young man, then turned and quickly walked back towards the glass wall that lined the restaurant, dropping into his chair by a crowded table.
“Did you really kill a bull?”
“Yeah, after it almost killed me. Those things are fast; they’ll trick you with that whole scratching bit. But I cheated, or so the Spanish always claimed.”
“How did you cheat?”
“I took fencing lessons as a kid, so I had a basic idea of how to move with the damn rapier. But I also had a huge diving knife strapped to my leg, which came in handy. I didn’t just wait for him to charge, I side stepped, and cut him behind his front flank, to take out one of his legs. Then I took out a back leg, and when he was all limping around, I killed him. Those are big mother fuckers.”
Jennifer pushed against him, his arms wrapping around her as he told her the story, kissing on her softly. “Don’t worry, little filly, if we were trapped alone in the wilderness, I would take care of you.”
“Would you?” She laughed at the notion, but there was something primal and alluring about it. Suddenly the image of them living in a cave in the Rockies popped into her head, and she pictured herself in a very stylish antelope dress, being held captive by her cave man husband, ass raped and pregnant as he breed her for more members of his tribe in the next ice age.
She didn’t realize it, but he could smell her arousal on her, could detect the odor of her pussy flooding, one of many reasons he loved this woman so. She worked out a lot, and her body was used to self-regulating, so he always knew when she was turned on. Now was one such time.
“Yes, I would. I would go out and kill our food, then have you prepare it back at the cave. Well…maybe I would do the preparing. But I’m sure I could find a job for you.” He squeezed her tit with one hand, the other under the table, rubbing her between her legs.
She squeezed her legs, trapping his hand there, her body on fire as he played her pussy. “What would my job be in this ice age?” Her eyes were glassed over, her voice weak and trembling as he pulled her close, kissing her. He was a big fan of public affection, she had noticed, and she had also learned that she did not mind. His arms were a protective embrace, a shelter and a haven.
“You’d be my little filly, having children for me, and helping me relieve the stress of the hunt by taking it up the ass. Every night I would drag you to the depth of our little cave, and rape you over, and over, and over for my personal enjoyment.”
“I would be your little toy?” She could barely breathe now, and when her body shuddered, she hoped his arms provided enough to keep it from being to visible.
“Absolutely. I would keep you full of cock and babies, like a good cave woman.”
“I would have your babies.”
“Of course you would. I own your pussy. You are my little mare, my little cum slut.” He kissed her again, and she moaned into his lips, feeling herself release again. When he let her slide from his arms, she stood on unsteady legs and headed to the bathroom.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she realized for the first time how flushed she looked. Her face was red, and her pupils had dilated. She took a second to run cold water over her wrists, cooling her body core temperature back down, then took a second in one of the stalls to clean up and catch her breath. When she pushed the door back open, she almost knocked the woman on the other side to the ground, the heavy wooden door striking her in the forehead.
“Jesus, Halle, I’m so sorry!” Jennifer grabbed the woman, helping her stand, before slowly releasing her. “You ok?”
“Oh wow. Yeah, I’m fine. Good push.” The woman fixed her glasses, then smiled at her follow Duke grad. They had overlapped in medical school, and were members of the same alumni chapter, and the same honor society, proud nerds of the medical profession.
“Jennifer…always the rambunctious one.” She smiled, leaning against the counter. “Who’s your date?”
“David. Markus was more of an economy compact kind of boyfriend, I thought I’d go for a luxury SUV next.”
“Ohh. Recent model year, too, I see?”
The question shocked Jennifer for a second, before she smiled at the other woman, retaining her most graceful look. “He is younger then me, yes. But since he is the one that makes me very happy, I don’t see a problem with that.”
“Well…I know there are lots of…”
“I know there are people that need to mind their own business.” She turned and stormed out, coming to the table just as David finished ordering. He could tell she was steamed, and pulled her in close, kissing her softly until she calmed down.
“Markus said something about a grant. Is that work related?”
“Yeah.”
“So I can’t ask about it?”
“I never said you couldn’t ask about work. I just said I couldn’t talk about my clients, its confidential, medical stuff.”
“You are cute riled up.” He kissed her again, and then feed her one of the shrimp that apparently was part of the appetizer. She had not been lying, there were a total of six former dwellers of the deep on the plate. And unless that salad leaf was made of plate gold underneath the green, that was just a huge rip off.
“How does this place stay in business?”
She giggled, and then indicated the room before them. “Just look at all the people. It’s packed, always is.”
“Why? The food is ok, so far anyway, but it costs twice what it should.”
“Cool factor. This is the coolest, most relaxed, casual dining experience in the city, voted seven years in a row.”
“Wow. Stupid voters, huh?” He kissed her again, and watched as their food was served. She had been right again, the portions were tiny. This was ridiculous!
“So what’s the grant for?”
“To conduct a study on childhood dementia, Alzheimer’s, and other diseases of the mind that we normally associate with being older, I guess a good word would be senile. But there are cases of it occurring in children, and I want to see if we can isolate the causes, and help them.”
“Wow. You’re a good person.” He smiled, and again their lips connected. “No wonder you are so amazing. Your friend came over again while you were in the head.”
She smiled to herself at the nautical reference, sucking on his lip. “What did he want?”
“To know if we were a serious item.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Same thing you just told me.” He pulled his lip back, and destroyed the last of his dinner with one bite from his fork. “That you would have my babies.”
She lay on the sheets, trying to catch her breath, to make the room stop spinning. She felt decidedly light headed, which she blamed on the wine, and thoroughly satisfied, which she blamed on him. Blame was not the right word, but it fit rather well. He had a skill at popping champagne bottles, and he had insisted that after dinner, they go to her house and celebrate with one. She had never experienced bubbly sucked from her tits or licked out of her belly button. Nor had she ever dipped her toes in the expensive stuff, and had a man softly lick them until she moaned with pleasure.
The bubbles on his tongue tickled as he ate her pussy to a series of screaming orgasms, telling her over and over again that it was her special night, and that he would take care of her. He had not over promised.
The sex had been stunning as always, a mess of clothes, hair, and body as he balled her up, legs up over his arms and almost behind her head, his cock knee deep in her oh so willing pussy, fucking her senseless. She felt his balls slapping her ass, and before she knew it, felt his cock poking her ass. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed that sensation, of him taking ownership of her and ass fucking her, making her his little bitch.
Their romp in the sheets had been followed by a quick shower, which was always an occasion for foreplay, as he teased her back to heights of desire, eating her pussy under the pulsing streams of water, and washing her body all over, caressing and fondling her. His cock hung hard and massive between his legs, and she had not been able to resist, sinking to her knees, submitting herself before him, and sucking him for all she was worth. Her reward was getting picked up and fucked against the cold tiles until she screamed his name, then bent over the sink, and made to orgasm once more.
He was amazingly disciplined, able to stop his movement just a fraction short of his own orgasm, easing himself back down as he nibbled on her, playing her pussy and tits against each other in a race as to what felt better, then fucking her again until her soul exploded in the pleasure of orgasm. It was unreal how good it felt, and then suddenly they were on the bed, and he was giving it to her so hard, all she could do was scream herself hoarse.
It was rough, animalistic, instinctual mating between two people that wanted nothing more then to please one another, as he bit her, licked her, nibbled on her, sucked her tits, and held her tight. His heavy body pressed on her as she wrapped her legs around his waist, getting screwed by him, her eyes pressed shut, the feeling so intense she thought she might black out. She might have, she was not entirely sure, the entire memory was still a bit fishy and hazy, but when she did finally orgasm, it was in a series of shattering releases, each shaking her to the core, leaving her dazed and confused as he pounded her pussy, then pulled out and stuffed his cock in her mouth, making her swallow his massive load of hot semen.
He had held and cuddled her for a while, then gotten up and snuck out of the room to where she was not sure. Her body was not responding to commands to raise itself, and her mind was not even sure if that was what it was telling itself to do. She was experiencing a kind of high, an aftershock if you may, the result of him once again rocking her world.
She saw him come back into the room, crawl across the sheets, and pull her close. She purred as she got situated on his lap, and almost feel asleep as he first brushed her hair, then rubbed her shoulders and back, kissing her softly all along. When he started feeding her grapes he had found downstairs, she could not keep from giggling, making him smile a big smile.
“You happy?”
“You make me very happy. Thank you for everything.”
“Thank you.” He nibbled on her ear, then slid down her body to lie next to her, holding her close. Her tits were pressed against him, and it had the predictable effect, but they both ignored it for now, kissing softly.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She snuggled against him, closing her eyes. His strong arms enclosed her, and she felt warm and protected, sexy and safe at the same time.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you…I saw the picture of you downstairs…were you in the Navy, too?”
“Yes. I washed out of flight school, and got downsized.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You never told me about what you did, why would I tell you?”
He didn’t respond to that, not really sure what to say. He had nothing to say he finally decided, and just shrugged, then kissed the top of her head. “I was an EOD tech, diver qualified. I worked with Aviation Ordnance at first, then branched out into all kinds of systems, but mostly I focused on disarming of foreign devices. Which kinda came in handy when this whole war thing kicked off. I went to Afghanistan with SEAL Team 4, and then later on to Iraq with SEAL Team 2. Which was pretty cool, until a mine I was trying to disable blew up, and killed my partner. Turns out it was a double stacked anti-tank mine. One second he was there, next he just ceased to exist. Explosion was so powerful, it ripped my suit in half, broke my back and half my ribs, rotated my right leg almost two hundred degrees in the knee socket. I don’t remember any of that, I was out cold. Apparently I got up, and tried to walk back into the fire, tried to pull Donnie out, but I don’t remember it. So I got an all inclusive trip to Germany, then to Bethesda, and then to a VA hospital, where I got to shake the hand of the Secretary of Defense, who pinned me with a Bronze Star, some other crap, and awarded me medical retirement at eighty percent for life.”
He seemed to just seize up and stop talking, but by now she had slowly moved around him, and she was the one holding him, kissing him softly. A combination of professional skill and training, along with mothering instinct and affection for the young man had taken a hold of her, and she waited for him to continue, knowing how fragile people could get under the influence of traumatic stress.
“And that’s when I came here, and meet you. And you were just so perfect…what every man dreams of. And wow, you actually like me. Thank you so much.” He kissed her on the lips, and she thought she saw a tear in his eye, but then he blinked, and it was gone. But she had heard it in his voice, and that was all that mattered. “I love you Jennifer.”
“I love you, too, David.”
“I don’t see a ring.”
“You don’t need a ring to call it love!”
“A ring makes it official.”
“Jesus, he just told her he loved her two days ago, maybe we can hold off on the wedding bells!”
“I’m just saying.” Stella gave a look that said everything it needed to say, then dug into her salad again. A peanut gave a satisfying crunch as her teeth crushed it, before Maggie decided on a suitable response.
“Well, I think it is very sweet that he opened up to you. It shows he trusts you.”
“You read that in a book?” Jennifer smiled at her friend, who gave a very unsatisfied look back. Maggie had a J.D., not an M.D., and she often got shit for that from her friends. But she had also been enjoying life while those she loved had been suffering through residencies and trying to decide what a gene actually did, thinking deep thoughts that really don’t need to be thought at a time of your life that should be devoted to looking good and finding yourself a hot husband.
“No. But ever since I decided that I wanted to write a book Trey has been very open about what goes on in college athletics and such, and I find it endearing and considerate that he trusts me and loves me enough to share with me how he violated the law and NCAA regulations for three years straight in ways too numerous to really count. And he even convinced some of his friends to do the same.”
“Explosive. Anyways…I do think I love him. Is that strange?”
“I think it is perfectly normal to get seduced by a man almost ten years younger then you, allow yourself to enter into a form of white slavery, and then fall madly in love with him. I think I saw that in a movie…”
“If you have nothing nice to say, you should say nothing at all. Don’t be mad that you settled for a man of questionable complexion, while Jennifer and I got all the good black men. My husband is younger than me, there’s nothing wrong with that!” Maggie went so far as to swat at her friend, while Jennifer debated the wisdom of revealing that she liked to be spanked by her boyfriend, and had discovered the beauty of talking dirty to a man of considerable vigor.
“You know what…I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” Then Stella did the head twist diva move, a clear sign that the discussion was closed, and that she still did not approve of her friends relationship with the young man.
She had repeated her argument several times, and it broke down to three basic lines of thought. First, he was young, probably reckless, and would eventually leave and hurt her. This line often referenced his past in the Navy, gently skirting Jennifer’s own history in that area, a topic that the two friends knew could be a bit sore at times, and worked more along the angle of a port in any storm, and a girlfriend in every port.
Two, they were at totally separate places in their lives, and as she put it “he can’t get here from there.” Here it was more fashionable to mention her past military achievements, right behind her graduating with honors from Vanderbilt, and before her being accepted into the Medical School of Duke University on her first try. She liked to point out her achievements in research, and all the people she had helped, an appeal to reason somewhat flawed when speaking to a fellow psychiatrist.
And finally, she reminded her friend about the lectures she had always given about finding somebody of equal or higher stature, somebody that could impress you with their drive, desire, dedication to something, and sheer intelligence, somebody that she could respect and admire, even. It was clear that Stella did not think David deserved such emotions.
“Why are you so hard on him?” Jennifer had lost her appetite, and pushed the sandwich away from herself, which instantly led Maggie to pounce on it. Jennifer was a runner, and therefore a controlled eater. Maggie was a swimmer, and anything with calories could fuel her fire.
“I just don’t think you are making a good choice. I’m sure you told him that you love him back, after all. So when are you going to have this new horse of yours?” And with that they moved on to a new topic, knowing fully well that fighting over it would not change anything.
Journey was blowing softly, watching the woman approach, then turned side ways, sticking her head back to get at the fruit in the outstretched hand. The horse seemed to be well aware why it was getting all the attention here lately, and did not seem to mind. One might go so far as to say that her and Jupiter were an item, having produced multiple foals in their years together. But he was somewhat of a cad, having slept around with other mares as well. So she patted her back, then slowly ran her hand down the side, feeling where it was swollen and full, the foal softly moving inside.
She felt more then heard or saw him approach, and then his arms were around her, kissing her softly, watching as she caressed the horse, holding her close, nibbling her ear lobe. She felt him in her back, felt the heat from him, and closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of warmth and safety that he always gave her.