The Bedtime Tales of Be287m

The Ugly One, Chapter Eight

I didn’t bring any flowers that night. It felt awkward, standing on Angie’s porch, having nothing in my hands. But Tamara had told me that if I made a habit of bringing flowers, they would stop being special. I had offered to bring a bottle of wine, but Angie had declined. She wanted to do the whole meal for me, she said. I’d agreed, though now I was nervous. There was nothing for me to *do*.

I realized I was tugging on my sleeves again. I forced myself to take a deep breath and relax a little. Then I rang Angie’s doorbell.

“John! Come in!” Angie motioned for me to follow her. No welcome hug or kiss. Maybe we weren’t to that level yet.

“I’m not quite done cooking,” Angie called over her shoulder as we headed toward the kitchen. “Keep me company?”

“Sure,” I replied, strolling after her. When I got to the kitchen, she was sliding a pan of something into the oven and then quickly moving to stir vegetables sautéing on the stove. As she stirred, she tossed various spices into the pan.

“Looks good,” I commented. Angie grinned.

“Great! Ashley’s turning her nose up at vegetables right now, so I don’t get many chances to try new recipes for them,” I laughed.

“Wait a few years, then she won’t want anything but junk food.”

“Oh, I hope not!” Angie joked.

“Oh yes. Just today, I watched four ten-year-old boys tear through nachos like they were greatest thing since sliced bread.”

“Well, they are, at least to them.” I had to nod in agreement.

“So, how did the afternoon go?” Angie asked. I had to pause in order to remember what I’d told her about the ‘Merry Men’ expedition earlier in the week. Only that I was taking Billy and some of his friends to the arcade, not why.

“It went well!” I replied. I then proceeded to tell her about the games we’d played, including Space Invaders and the multiple versions of Tokyo Wars. Angie nodded and asked short questions as she stirred and seasoned and tasted and started arranging food on plates. My admiration grew as I watched the meal come together. It was far beyond my meager skills as a chef.

“I’m really glad you took the boys out,” Angie commented as we got seated, a soup course in front of us. “I think it’s important for boys to have a man that they can look up to.” I shrugged.

“I’m not sure I’m much of a role model, but it was the least I could do,” I replied. Angie just smiled, not quite rolling her eyes in disagreement.

“Well, you do have a way with kids. You’ll make a good dad some day.”

I tried to avoid choking on my soup. Sure, I wanted kids, but the thought that it might actually happen was as much a fantasy as having a harem of women fuck me for free. I couldn’t see it ever happening.

Of course, I’d never seen myself on a third date either. Fourth, if I counted the coffee get together. Yet here we were.

The conversation turned back to more getting-to-know-you topics as we shared stories about growing up and going through school. We were both native Coloradoans, though she hailed from a small town on the Western Slope that I wasn’t sure I could locate on a map. All I knew about Fruita was that it was in the general vicinity of Grand Junction. She, on the other hand, was surprisingly familiar with the suburban neighborhood I’d grown up in and still lived in. We realized that her college roommate had gone to my high school, but had been two years behind me. Angie had made more than one visit for weekends before she’d met her future husband and found her time filled with other activities.

“Do you regret getting married straight out of college?” I asked as we cleared the dishes at the end of an excellent meal.

Angie sighed and paused. I could sense her struggling for words.

“I don’t regret Ashley,” she finally answered. “And if I hadn’t met Mike, I wouldn’t have her.” I nodded. “I just wish I hadn’t been so naïve.”

“Naïve?”

“Guys lie,” she replied with a rueful smile.

“Not all guys lie,” I responded. That brightened her smile.

“True. Some men are gentlemen. And thank you for being such a gentleman and helping me load the dishwasher.”

I gave her my best goofy ‘who me?’ grin and glanced around the kitchen for more dishes. There were none. Angie declared that we were done and should adjourn to the living room. She settled on the couch quite close to me.

“You look beautiful tonight,” I murmured, evoking a small blush of appreciation.

“You look handsome too,” Angie replied. I wrinkled my face in disagreement, which brought a small giggle.

“I’m serious!”

“Maybe. I just don’t see it. You sure you don’t need glasses?”

“I’m sure,” she chuckled.

With that, Angie leaned in and kissed me. I immediately dropped all protesting and pulled her into my arms.

I held her tight as we kissed. These were hotter, hungrier, than our kisses the last time we’d been on this couch. Tongues found tongues. Lips roamed and found places to nuzzle behind ears and on napes of necks. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed.

An unknown number of heartbeats later, Angie shifted into my lap, nestling tighter into me. My hand dropped to her thigh, and there seemed to be no ‘safe’ place to move it without throwing us off balance. Angie didn’t seem uncomfortable though, so I let it sit. We kissed some more and I realized that that she really didn’t seem to mind where my hand was. I started making small circles with my fingers as I kissed my way behind her ear. Angie moaned. I returned to kissing her lips and slid my fingers just barely up her thigh. She sighed and parted her legs slightly.

I caught the hint.

Still kissing hot and passionately, I slowly inched my hand up. She groaned when I slid my fingers around to her inner thigh and then kissed me harder, almost biting me in her intensity. My hand was still on top her dress and I was unsure whether I should move back down and come up underneath it. As I paused, Angie’s kisses slackened as if she were catching her own breath. That seemed to decide it. I moved my hand the remaining few inches and placed it squarely on top of her mound outside of her clothes. I kissed Angie hard at the same time and she returned the heat.

As we continued to kiss, I danced my fingertips lower, wondering if I could find her clit through all the cloth. It was awkward to turn my hand, so I settled for just running my fingertips over her lower body, caressing between her thighs and wherever I could reach. Angie buried her head in my shoulder. I stroked lightly up and down, one finger and then two and then one again. I could feel her heat and wetness through the cotton.

Unfortunately, I could also feel Angie’s upper body stiffen and become more awkwardly rigid. She’d stopped kissing me and while her breath was a little ragged, it didn’t sound like it was due to pleasure. I yanked my hand back and placed it on her thigh again. She sighed. I decided to go the other direction this time and slid my hand down until it was below the hem of her dress, then turned and slid it up under the fabric. Angie stopped me, placing her hand on mine.

“Not tonight,” she whispered.

I deflated. Then I pulled my hand away.

“I can be a gentleman,” I murmured back, kissing her on the forehead. She pulled me down for a kiss on the lips.

“Good,” she replied. “Because as much as I want you, I’m not ready to go to bed with you tonight.”

I pulled back and looked at her, confused. She shifted off my lap onto the couch beside me in the process. Seeing the resulting alarm on her face, I quickly forced a smile onto mine and leaned in to kiss her again.

“We can wait,” I said.

“Oh good!”

With that, Angie began kissing me again. I started to return the kiss, still pondering her words. I didn’t notice when her hand settled on my thigh, but I did notice when her hand slid forward. I paused a moment in the kissing and raised my eyebrows at her.

“I did say I wanted you,” she murmured.

With that, Angie trailed her fingers up across my inner thighs and then over my stiff cock, the cotton between muffling out all but the basic pressure. I gasped, but Angie didn’t let up kissing me or stroking me. I struggled mightily to just sit and receive and not begin running my hands over her body in return. After an agonizing forever, Angie returned her hand to a safe position on my shoulder. Slowly my breathing returned to a measured rate.

“Valentine’s Day is in two weeks, and Ashley will be at her dad’s,” Angela told me when I’d started smiling at her again. “Would you like to spend the night?”

“I’d love to!” I murmured in reply, before taking her into my arms and hotly kissing her again.

We continued kissing for a while longer. More chaste, but still warm. We kissed for the connection, making it an extension of the snuggling on the couch. We murmured sweet nothings about Valentine’s Day and romance and silly little things we liked about the other. Eventually Angie yawned and then I did, so we broke our embrace and called it a night.

I called her the next day, of course, both to thank her for dinner and confirm Valentine’s Day plans. We also made a lunch date for a day I knew my workload would be light. I couldn’t figure out how to ask why she’d stopped my hand though. I resolved to talk to Tamara about it, after seeing how Billy was doing, of course.

When Thursday arrived, Billy was doing great.

“Any problems with Jesse?” I asked when we were sitting in his room before dinner, starting to put together some MechWarriors for a battle.

“Nope!” he proudly exclaimed. “He left me alone all week! Ralph and Ed too!”

“That’s good!” I affirmed.

“Yeah! And yesterday, after school, we followed him!”

“What?” I asked, getting a little concerned.

“We followed him! We saw him going home by himself without Frank, so Ed and Ben and I followed him!”

“And why did you do that?”

“Well, uh, there were three of us, and, uh, just one of him. . .”

“Yes. And what were the three of you going to do to him?” Billy caught my tone with that one and hung his head.

“I dunno,” he replied. I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up me.

“I think it’s great that you guys stuck together,” I told him. “But you don’t want to start a fight with Jesse just because there are more of you than him.”

“I know,” he moped. “Fighting is wrong.”

“Not necessarily,” I replied. That caught Billy’s attention. “There’s a time and a place for it. Like in self-defense, when Jesse or someone like Jesse has started it. But it’s not the time when Jesse’s just walking home alone and there’s three of you.”

Billy looked at me, confused. I sighed.

“If you’re going to start a fight with Jesse,” I began, “it needs to be because he’s doing something that’s worth fighting over. Picking on another kid, for example. Walking home alone isn’t enough.” Billy slowly nodded.

“It’s like when a cop arrests a crook,” I said. “He can’t arrest the crook just for being a bad guy; he’s got to arrest the crook because he’s done something bad.”

“But Jesse’s done bad things!”

“True,” I continued. “So that’s a bad example. Think of it this way. If you guys beat Jesse up because of what he did yesterday, then he is equally justified in beating you up tomorrow for what you did to him today. It will never stop. You’ll be beating each other up forever.” Billy scrunched his face up, but nodded a little.

“Instead of thinking about getting even with Jesse, you need to think of it as training Jesse.” A flash of insight hit me.

“Do you know anyone that has a big dog, Billy? In many ways, bullies are just like big bad dogs.”

“My cousin in Portland has a dog. A German Shepard! I got to play with him at Christmas!”

“Well, do you know to train a dog to go to the bathroom in the right place? You rub his nose in it when he goes in the wrong place.”

“Ooo! Ick!”

“Yup,” I replied. “Ick. The thing is, you have to rub his nose in it right after the dog’s done it. If you wait a few days to rub his nose in the poop, he doesn’t understand why you’re doing it. He doesn’t connect the punishment of getting a nose full of poop to going to the bathroom in the wrong place.”

“You gotta rub his nose in the poop right away!” Billy started giggling.

“Yes, you do,” I replied. “And the same thing with Jesse. If you start a fight with him when he’s just walking down the street, he won’t learn anything. But if you start a fight with him when he’s picking on another kid, he might learn not to pick on people.”

Billy nodded at that, but then started giggling again.

“Jesse’s just a poopy dog!” he cried out. I winced before nodding. I hoped the name wouldn’t stick for long.

Fortunately, it didn’t. Tamara admonished him over dinner when he muttered “Poopy dog!” a little too loudly and that was the end of it within our hearing. He might have repeated it to himself while he did the dishes, but if so, he was making enough noise banging the dishes around that we couldn’t hear.

This was fine, because it meant he also couldn’t hear us. Tamara and I spent a little time chatting about her classes and about some of my efforts at work first and then I caught her up on the Merry Men expedition. She seemed pretty pleased with how that had gone and mentioned that Ralph had come over after school on Tuesday to play for a while. She said she appreciated the fact that Billy seemed to be finding friends despite his handicaps and I could do nothing but agree.

Then I started to tell her about the date. Tamara nodded, a thin smile of appreciation on her lips, as I described the dinner conversation. When I mentioned my surprise at Angie’s comment about someday being a good father, Tamara just laughed.

“She’s right, you know,” Tamara commented. I just stared at her for a moment, speechless. Then I continued.

“We started kissing,” I said, “and it got much hotter and much more passionate than before.” I broke off to check Tamara’s reaction. She was grinning.

“So I started sliding my hand up her thigh,” I continued. “She seemed to like it, and even didn’t mind when I started rubbing her crotch.”

“Below her clothing?” Tamara asked.

“Above,” I answered. “The thing is, she didn’t seem to like me rubbing her through her clothes. I think I was doing it wrong. And she stopped me when I tried to get under her clothes.”

“There could have been a lot of reasons for that.”

“Maybe. I wish I’d known what I was doing though.”

“So what were you doing?” Tamara asked.

“Well, I tried running my fingers up and down where I guessed her labia would be, and then I tried moving in circles near where I guessed her clit would be. Then I started stroking . . .” I looked down and noticed I was trying to mime my actions with my fingers. I looked over at Tamara, who was watching intently, but still with some questions in her eyes.

“It would really be easier to show you,” I stated.

“No.”

“No?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to Angie,” Tamara replied. “You’re with her now.”

I bowed my head and felt my gut start to churn. My face flushed, though with shame or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. Yes, I was with Angie. Isn’t that what I wanted, to be with Angie? I suspected that Angie wouldn’t have been happy if she’d heard me just now. What a dumb thing to suggest!

“I’m sorry, Tamara,” I said, finally looking up. “That was a stupid thing for me to say.” She nodded in agreement and then reached over and squeezed my hand.

“That’s okay,” she reassured me. “Angie didn’t hear you and I won’t tell her.”

“Well thanks, but it was also stupid because of what it implied about our friendship.”

Tamara gave a half smile and bit her lip for a moment, thinking. Then she met my eyes.

“About our friendship, John . . . I should have spoken up earlier. You’re the only person in Colorado to call me Tamara, my brothel name. All my friends call me Lynn except you, even though I said you were welcome to use my real name.”

She didn’t say what that implied about how I thought of her. She didn’t have to. I must have had my head buried in my hands for several minutes, feeling like utter crap, before I realized that I wasn’t saying anything. I realized that Tamara--no, Lynn--had put her hand on my knee. I looked up and tried to smile.

“I’m sorry, Lynn.”

“That’s okay,” she said, squeezing my knee. “I still think you’re a great friend, both to me and to Billy.” I smiled a little.

“Yeah, I call him by his real name,” I commented. “Though I imagine some day he’ll want to be called ‘Will’ or ‘William.’”

“Maybe,” Lynn mused. “But maybe he’ll always be Billy too.” She continued to squeeze my hand. I nodded my head in agreement. I realized that I actually wasn’t drumming the fingers of my free hand on my leg. I smiled at Lynn again, more genuine this time.

“So tell me about the rest of the date,” Lynn asked abruptly. I sensed the tone change and nodded as she withdrew her hand.

“It went fine. After she pushed my hand away, Angie did run her hand over my cock, above the clothes.”

“So! She does want you!”

“She actually said that,” I admitted. “And she invited me to spend the night on Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s great! So where are you taking her before you spend the night?”

“Uh . . . I have no idea.”

“C’mon, John! You can do better than that!” Lynn laughed. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

I suggested a few restaurants I thought would be romantic and Tamara, er, Lynn, suggested a few more. We narrowed the list down on practicalities and I agreed to start calling immediately to see what reservation times were available. I wondered aloud about bringing flowers and Lynn made an alternate suggestion for a present. She also suggested some subtle ways I could find out in phone conversations if Angie was likely to appreciate it. Lynn gave me a couple more ideas before Billy poked his head in and declared the dishes done.

We finished the evening with our MechWarrior battle, which spilled out of his bedroom and into the hall before he beat me. I didn’t mind. When I left, Lynn hugged me, the earlier faux pas clearly forgiven.

Valentine’s Day found me once again on Angie’s porch, but this time with something in my hands. I held up the basket as Angie opened the door.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” I exclaimed.

Angie smiled, nearly dimpling, as she took the basket and glanced into it.

“Thank you, John!” she said, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss. As she invited me in, she started inspecting the basket in more detail.

“Since you enjoy cooking so much,” I said, as she started pulling small jars from the basket, “I thought you might enjoy some gourmet additions to your pantry.”

“Oh absolutely!” Angie exclaimed, now pulling some paper packages and boxes out.

“I stopped at the Peppercorn in Boulder,” I commented as she inspected them.

“This looks really good, John, thank you. Gourmet tea, coffee, jams, green chilies, pancake mix . . .” She stopped and looked at me.

“These are all breakfast foods,” she stated, grinning at me in amusement. I blushed a little.

“Well, I thought I’d fix you breakfast tomorrow morning if you’ll let me use your kitchen.”

Angie just smiled and pulled me close for a kiss. It started chaste but became hot quite quickly. I pulled back.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said. Angie nodded and pulled me in for another kiss.

I was definitely breathless, with my blood pounding, by the time we’d disengaged and managed to get on the road. Angie had gotten me a bottle of fine wine with an ornate stopper and I’d returned her thank you kisses, which heated up as well. Fortunately, I’d calmed down by the time we got to the restaurant; a small French one in Boulder that Tam—Lynn had highly recommended.

I could see why, as I scanned the menu. It all looked delicious. Both Angie and I spent a long time reading it, exchanging comments about what sounded good as we went. Finally I looked up at her and waited until I caught her eye.

“How about we do the seven course chef’s taster menu?” I suggested.

“Oh, that sounds delicious, but I don’t know. That’s a lot of food.”

“I’m sure it’s not that much.”

Angie cringed. “Umm, I’m sure it’s all delicious,” she said, “but it’s still a lot of food and . . . well . . . the doctor says I need to lose ten pounds.”

I blinked in surprise.

“Why?” I asked. “You look fine.” Angie blushed, looking more embarrassed than pleased by my comment.

“Thanks, John, but I’d prefer we got something else. The gnocchi looks good.” With that she looked back down into the menu. Taking the hint, I did too.

“It does look good,” I commented. “So does the salmon.”

“Yes it does.” Angela looked back up and smiled at me. “It all looks good. I don’t know what to choose!”

“Choose what makes you happy,” I soothed, drawing another large smile. “Maybe I’ll order your second choice and you can have a bite or two,” I teased.

“You would?”

“Maybe,” I said, arching my eyebrows to exaggerated heights. “If your second choice is something I want, of course.”

“Oh! I want the gnocchi or the salmon!” Angie replied, laughing.

“I guess I’ll just have to order the salmon, then!” That drew a giggle and we sat, smiling and looking goofy at each other. I reached my hand out across the table and Angie took it, squeezing my fingers for a moment. We continued to grin at each other until the waiter returned, wanting to see if we were ready to order. We were and afterwards continued to smile and hold hands and talk about everything and nothing.

When the food arrived, both the gnocchi and the salmon were excellent. The waiter had also suggested a great bottle of wine, turning the meal from merely superb to incredible. Angie and I laughed and flirted throughout the evening, our conversation ranging over subjects from favorite meals to silly stories from our childhoods. We left the restaurant, arm in arm, nearly cuddling on our walk to the car.

My pulse started to quicken once we got to Angie’s and settled into her living room. I made myself breathe deeply a couple of times, trying to not be too excited about what was to come. Lynn had reminded me to not rush things, but to let Angie set the pace.

Angie seemed a little nervous. We kissed once or twice, but her mind didn’t seem to be in it. I looked at her quizzically and she pulled back and took both my hands in hers.

“Uh, John, I hate to bring this up, particularly because you’ve been such a gentleman . . .”

“Yes?”

“Mike gave me Chlamydia while we were married. I’ve gotten it cured, but . . .”

“I’m clean,” I reassured her.

“He swore it was a one time thing,” she continued. “But then I found some hotel and ATM receipts. It turned out he’d been seeing her about once a month the entire time we’d been together. When I confronted him, he said that it wasn’t cheating because he was paying her for the sex and wasn’t in love with her. I threw him out of the house the same day.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch is right.”

“Well, like I said,” I reassured her, “I’m clean.”

“I trust you, John. But I wanted you to know why I insist on condoms.”

“Condoms are fine by me.”

“Good.” She let out her breath, looking relieved. I leaned forward and then brought my hand up, lightly cupping her chin. Her eyes met mine and I smiled. Then I slowly leaned in and kissed her.

This kiss built. Slow and steady, it started off in first gear and took its time getting to overdrive. The first kiss slid into a second that caught fire almost immediately. After a dozen dozen more kisses, Angie pulled back, both of us breathless.

“Let me . . .” Angie gasped, “. . . give me a couple of minutes’ head start and then join me in the bedroom.” I nodded and then kissed her again before she scampered down the hall.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. This was actually happening! I stared at my watch, wondering how long a ‘couple of minutes’ actually was. Watching the second hand was almost entrancing, but not so much for me to miss hearing Angie call me from the other room. I took a deep breath, stoop up, and strode toward the door.

The bedroom was candlelit and smelled faintly of roses. Angie had turned back the covers and was lying on the bed propped up on some pillows. She was wearing a full length silk purple gown, cut low to expose most of her breasts and slit up one side to reveal most of one thigh. Angie was smiling, though her eyes danced nervously.

“Oh wow!” I exclaimed. “You are *so* beautiful!” Angie beamed in delight and let he shoulders roll into a more relaxed position. I slowly began removing my clothes as I approached the bed.

I’d managed to toss my shirt aside and slip my shoes off by the time I was standing next to where Angie lay. She was still smiling, not having blanched at my scars. I reached for my belt.

“Here, let me do that,” she murmured, sitting up and reaching over to replace my hands with hers. She fumbled a little bit with the zipper, but with a little help, my pants and underwear were soon sliding off my hips. Angie cupped my cock in her hands, gently stroking it. She smiled up at me.

“I like,” she said.

“I’m glad you like.”

She continued playing with me for a little while, running her fingertips along my shaft and then wrapping her palm around me, gently skimming the top of the skin. Then she lay back on the pillows. I used the break to slip off the rest of my clothes and then climb on the bed next to her.

We began kissing again, slow and languorously. I ran my hands over her body, across her silk-covered breasts and stomach. I nuzzled behind her ear as she began to lightly caress me again. Angie leaned back and moaned.

I pulled back and gazed down at her. Angie’s eyes were closed and her face glowed in the candlelight. She had a broad contented grin across her face and she seemed to just be drinking in the sensations of my hands running across her skin. Watching her smile, I melted a little inside.

Taking the chance that I might break the spell, I lowered my lips and began kissing Angie’s cheek and then neck again. She purred, bringing one hand up to stroke my shoulders and back. I slowly began kissing and nuzzling down. Down across her collarbone and down across the swell of her breasts.

Her gown was loose enough that I had little trouble pushing it aside, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were hard, and her areolas much pinker than I’d expected. I decided to bypass her nipples at first, instead kissing around the outside of her breast, slowly circling in. I used my hand on her other breast to mimic the motion of my lips. Angie moaned again, low and guttural. Her breathing picked up, more ragged and deeper.

When I finally did arrive at her nipples, I sucked the one lightly as I gently squeezed the other. Angie gasped so I sucked a little harder, then bit her nipple gently. That brought another moan. I released her nipple and then shifted so I could suckle her other breast. That brought more gasps from Angie.

My shoulders were starting to ache from my awkward position so I released her nipples and started to kiss a little further south. The nightgown was now bunched around her waist, so I put my hand on her thigh and started sliding it up while kissing her on the lips again. Hungrily she returned the kisses. When my hand finally arrived at her mound, I found her already wet. I ran my fingers up her labia and gently slid one inside. Angie gasped again and muttered something like “Oh gawd!” too soft for me to hear. I took a deep breath and shifted my whole body toward the foot of the bed.

Angie parted her legs when I began kissing her thighs. I worked my way up until I was just inches away from her pussy. A moment of panic hit me. I’d only done this once before and that had been with Tamara in the brothel! I suddenly remembered a piece of advice I’d read in an online porn story once—‘lick the alphabet.’ It seemed as good of a technique as any.

Angie moaned as I started with ‘A.’ She whimpered a little through the first several letters, but then seemed to calm down. She thrust her hips forward, which pushed my head back. I pulled up and looked at her face. She was smiling down at me.

“Condoms are on the nightstand,” she purred. I scrambled up, found one, and quickly rolled it on. I knelt again between Angie’s thighs. My cock bumped against her, probing blindly for her opening. She reached down with her hand and a moment later, I was sliding inside.

I thrust very slowly, adjusting to her heat and tightness. Angie wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close and kissing me. I stopped when I was fully buried within her. She panted and grinned, wide eyed, and happy. I slowly pulled my cock out and thrust into her again. Angie shuddered and moaned.

I slowly began to build up speed, gradually increasing the tempo while trying to keep my motions smooth and fluid. Angie’s moans increased and she rolled her hips slightly, leading me to plunge a little deeper. We started kissing again, Angie eagerly responding to every thrust. She began rocking her hips to meet mine and I started to feel a boiling at the base of my spine. I started watching her face intently in order to hold off my own orgasm.

Angie was now deeply into her own rhythm, rocking back and forth, working towards her own release. I could see her neck begin to flush as she gasped, her breathing turning more ragged. Then, with a sharp cry, she arched her back. Her vaginal muscles clamped down around my cock and the extra pressure was too much. With a groan, my own orgasm rolled through me. I lost my balance and nearly collapsed on top of Angie, but she was too lost in little after-tremors to notice. Eventually we both regained some sense of composure and locked eyes, loopy grins firmly in place.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I said.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she replied.

My cock was softening, so with a sigh, I began withdrawing so I could dispose of the condom. Angie looked a little forlorn when I withdrew, but was back to basking in the afterglow when I returned from the bathroom all cleaned up. I slid under the covers next to her and she curled up against me, her head on my shoulder and one arm and one leg draped across me.

“Thanks, John.”

“Thank you. This has been an incredible evening.”

“I know,” she sighed. “It has.”

We lay there, cuddling for some time, just feeling each other’s warmth and touch. I reveled in her skin against mine. After some time, Angie yawned. We murmured a few sweet nothings to each other and then I slowly disentangled from her so I could blow out the candles. When I returned to the bed, Angie had rolled on her side. I slid behind her, spooning her. She pulled my arm tightly around her, cupping it between her breasts. I caressed them lightly, but the need for sleep began to catch up with me too. Eventually, I realized there was nothing for me to do but sleep. Still holding Angie, I let myself drift off to dreams.

--Fin--

© 2004, all rights reserved.

Read the next chapter in this story: Chapter Nine.

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