Body Wisdom & Uncompromising Portraits

Chapter One-4

“Ah Jess,” he groaned beneath me. He was asking for things for himself, unexpectedly. I replied readily, glad to give to him, when he’d asked for so little before. I liked watching the expression on his face when I teetered at the tip of his probing c**k, doing a delicate dance with my cunt lips. “Oh, god yes, Jessie, more.”

When he suddenly came, I was shocked. I rode him hard because he was so wild. Squeezing him at the moment of climax only made his passionate yell all the more rousing. And with the orgasm over, he collapsed back exhausted.

“Couldn’t you hold on?” I joked, as I fell against his chest.

He ran his hand through my hair. “You’re too good,” he answered. “And I was so damned horny.”

We were so close, lips close, eyes close, body on body, his swaying gently under mine, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

“Like my surprise?” he asked.

“I love your surprise,” I said.

“Well then, you can stay the night in my bed. This room needs some hard f*****g to christen it.”

He just assumed I would stay, but that was all right with me. As long as he made my s****l decisions for me, hell, I’d do anything he said. But damn, why was I this easy with him?

After the first s*x was over, we lay back against the quilt and let breeze from the open window cool us down. The fan overhead went around, and the air circulating against my body made me shudder, goosebumps popping out everywhere. After his exhausting climax, he demanded I orgasm twice before he’d let me rest. “You need to c*m lots, you get pent-up prissy otherwise.”

“Oh, you think so?” I said. “You seem to think you know me well.”

“I do. You need s*x to counter the rest of your life,” he went on.

“Like the librarian part?” I asked.

“Yeah, like the librarian part.”

“You have a problem with my job, don’t you?” I asked.

“Don’t you?” he said.

“No.”

He stared off into space while I watched him. He still didn’t like me being a librarian. I suppose it was much too unoriginal for the rebel in him.

“Why are you here in Shelter Bay?” I asked him, changing the subject. He had answered this question other ways, now I wanted the real answer. He didn’t fit here and we both knew it. But still, he didn’t answer.

“C’mon Kurt, you ask me everything, make judgments about my life, and tell me what to do. I get no probing questions of my own?”

“Ask all you want, I just won’t answer,” he told me.

“Don’t you go getting touchy with me,” I said, wondering if he was really annoyed, or just playing around. “Some woman hurt you?”

He still stared into the ceiling.

I looked up to see what was so interesting there. It was admittedly quite a piece of craftsmanship, the natural wood ceiling shot out with beams in a sunburst pattern. I could study it too, while I waited for him to speak.

“We were married a year,” he finally said. “She didn’t want to keep the baby, so she split.”

“You have a baby?” I asked.

“No.”

I nodded. This wasn’t easy for him to say, and I could appreciate his reluctance. There was a lot of pain behind his silence.

“So, is that ALL of your past?” I wondered aloud.

“No, but you only get a piece at a time, because that’s the only way I’ll tell it.”

I expected he had a very sordid past, while he probably thought I was some lily-white virgin until I was twenty five, and never screwed around recklessly the way he probably had.

“I got pregnant once too,” I told him. “But there was no baby. It was a blighted ovum. At the time, I wasn’t sure what I was losing, but I was really glad I didn’t have to make a decision. I’m surprised you want children,” I added, as an afterthought.

“Why? Because I wear my hair like this and go barefoot all the time?” His comment sounded like an accusation.

“No,” I replied. “How come you’re so testy?’’

He shrugged and pulled me close to him as he kissed me deeply, and ran his rough hand over my naked rear end. We didn’t speak again for another hour.

He was rougher yet making love, more intent, seized by something dark that poured from him to me. Regardless of his style, I couldn’t stop responding to his touch. He had the ability to provoke places in me I’d never found s****l before, like the insides of my thighs when he nibbled them, and places around my arms that turned erogenous within seconds of a single probe. He ran a finger down my back and I thought the orgasm would begin right there. When he reached my anal cleft he was probing my anus, the tight place not wanting to give, but giving regardless because something in me wanted to agree to everything he asked of me. I took his c**k in my mouth again, and later he ate the doorway to my crotch, planting his mouth dangerously on my c**t and about my hole. The way he used his teeth, biting softly to increase the sensations, I knew the entire time he was one step away from causing real pain—but then that never occurred. Just at the edge, he wanted s*x on the delicate edge just one step from too much.

When he entered me the second time that night, he was behind me as we were lying on our sides. With his chest and groin pressed to my back I had the feel of being used, so anonymous it disturbed me. But that was only half the feeling, the other side of me loved that anonymous use. I knew that by the sustained edge of s****l hunger gnawing in my belly. I clamored for an orgasm, wanting every second of his efficient lovemaking hands doing these bizarre things with my body. I’d handle my uneasiness later.

When he jolted against me, he was silent. Unlike his other orgasms, this was something very different, and it was strange the way the sunlight faded just as he was tripping over the edge. When his body relaxed against my back, his hand reached around and played with my c******s. By feeling alone, he had my smoldering cunt peaking quickly. And I came as quietly, though not as ferociously, as he had.