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From: "joseph_lawrence Last Name" <joseph_lawrence@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Unfinished Business {Joe} (MF cons rom)
Date: Tue, 3 Oct 2000 15:10:10 -0400
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A follow-up to 'Not So Fast'. Among other things: hopefully providing the ending someone said they would have liked.
------------------------------------------------------------
--== Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ ==--
Before you buy.
<1st attachment, "Hotel.txt" begin>
Another evening drew close. Another night in another
nameless hotel in another nameless town. I, to them the
nameless traveller, staying for a night before disappearing, yet
another credit card number to process. As always I travelled
alone. There was no one waiting at home, home was now these
soul-empty places as I slipped through other people's lives,
each for just few short hours. Each night I'd sleep alone in a
bed for two. Each night I'd leave a little dampness on the fresh
laundered sheets, every time thinking of night many years ago,
and a woman long since lost. Once or twice I'd left that
dampness deep in accepting flesh - frantic, breathless and
sweaty but desperately short nights of unconstrained,
unaccomplished lust and unfulfilled passion. Whether alone or
been left alone I'd leave the next morning, all smiles and
'thank you's, and slip back into the stream of other faceless
people passing by on the road. Another day began.
Eating was another pleasure denied me. I ate, but as
with my nightly release, it was rarely a pleasure. Both were
functional, something I had to do. I usually took my meals in
newly built restaurants masquerading as olde-world bars, all
psuedo-quaint exposed beams and nouveau-Victorian brass,
perfunctorily polished dimly reflecting the carefully planned
yet plainly manufactured image-consultant constructed interior.
The menus were as fake as the setting. Never ending dry steak
and kidney pies with puff pastry tops as un-authentic as the
wooden beams which were held up by the ceiling rather than
the other way round.
Why did I do it? What had gone wrong? What had I
done in my clearly mis-spent youth to deserve this purgatory
on earth? Nothing, it was a job. It was my life, and every night
it ate deeper into my soul long since eroded to paper-thinness.
I walked into another of these places, I cannot recall
where, nor indeed does it matter. I ordered a beer, as fake as
the place, and my feelings. I smiled weakly. I paid and walked
away to find a table. I sat down and sipped my beer, trying to
stretch out the evening a little. Faces passed by. Smiling,
laughing faces. Couples who looked as though they'd spend
much of the night coupling; men, as empty as I. Women, alone,
some possibly predatory - none considered me as prey. This
was a place of decorous anonymity. Families never came here,
except perhaps on Sundays and then only once.
I picked up the menu and pretended to be interested in
it. Behind its gloss it too was as empty as I. I chose. I got up
and drifted to the food counter set on a two-step raised dais to
add to the apparently haphazard layout that was intentionally
anything but. I ordered, my credit card took another swipe,
another line on the statement that recorded my life. I turned
away and looked round. For a moment I was disorientated.
Maybe I was confused between this and a hundred similar
places. I stumbled forward in confusion. I heard a voice behind
me call, "Are you allri....", as the floor fell away below me and
the beamed ceiling swirled around me.
"Welcome back," said a voice. A caring voice, a voice
welcome indeed. "Are you ok?" I tried to sit up, but the floor
seemed not to want to release my sprawled form. "Whoa! Take
it easy, that was a bit of a tumble you took there." An image
sprang to my mind of the owner of the voice. A light blue
uniform slipped over motherly-soft breasts. Hair bound tightly
framing a face soft with hazel eyes.
A strong hand slipped under my back to steady me as
my eyes opened.
"It's ok," I heard her say to one side, "I'm a doctor.
Come on people, there's nothing to see." She turned back to
me. It was her!
"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked as I stared
at her. She moved her head to one side then the other, looking
into me.
"What are you doing here?" I blurted.
"I saw you fall. God only knows why they insist on
having all these steps in these places. It must make disabled
access a nightmare."
"You saw me fall?"
"Yes," she turned her head to glance behind me. "You
fell down that step."
"But what are you doing here?"
"Trying to have a meal." She looked at me
quizzically, "Are you sure you're feeling ok?"
"I'm feeling wonderful now you're here."
"Yeah... We'd better get you sat down."
"Have you...." I wondered whether I should ask.
"Have you taken my pulse?"
"Why?" She almost laughed. "You fell, you weren't
electrocuted! I don't take the pulse of strange men without
needing to."
'Strange men?' Who did she think I was? I looked at
her closely. Maybe she wasn't who I thought she was. No, she
was, of that I was sure. "Are you here with anyone?" This
clearly baffled her, but didn't seem to faze her for more than a
moment.
"No...," she said deliberately. "No, I'm not with
anyone."
"Not your husband?"
"No," she said smiling while gently shaking her head ,
"I'm not with my husband. Now, where's your table?"
She helped me up. I didn't need much help, if any at
all. Her presence was what stunned me. What's the line in
Casablanca? 'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the
world she had to walk into mine.' So, it wasn't my gin joint. It
wasn't a gin joint at all, and there was no piano player to play it
for her, or for me and I had no white jacket and was certainly
no Bogart. Nonetheless the parallel seemed apt.
We went to my table, her careful not to touch, yet
holding her hands close to me in case I wavered. I remembered
the many years that had passed since we last met. I
remembered how we had come together completely for just
one night. We were students then, and our lives separated soon
after, if indeed they had ever really been together. The one
night we'd had we'd not had alone, another had shared her. She
went to yet a third. She was promised to him, she always had
been, and while I fooled myself that I'd let her go to him, in
fact I'd never really had any hold on her. Why shouldn't she
not remember me? It had been just a night to forget for her, a
shameful aberration, a moment of child-like wanton lust to be
left unspoken of. I was not to her. No wonder she didn't know
me. Yet I had known her - I had Known her, just once, but it
had left an indelible mark on me that I had not been able to
remove. It was her memory that filled my head as I dampened
the starch-stiff sheets every night. In my mind I'd replayed that
night a thousand times. She lived in my head, my heart and my
loins. She was the one who made my life in these false places
bearable, yet I knew my memories were as fake as the walls. I
took her over and over in my head, not in my bed. Here she
was, beside me, close to me, and she didn't even know me. I'd
come all those times for nothing - nothing more than empty
dreams and wild teenage fantasies clung to for too long.
I sat down, deflated by my stark realisation. She sat
down opposite me, on the other side of the small round table.
"You don't know me do you?" I said sadly.
"No, should I?"
"No," I sighed, "no, probably not."
A waitress slinked up to our table. I looked up and
leaned back a little to allow her to set a hot plate on the table
before me.
"Are you ok?" she enquired. I told her that I was fine,
I really was. She turned to my rescuer. "Are you sitting here
now?"
I smiled, she did too. "Yes," she said with a hint of a
laugh.
"Have you ordered yet? If so I'll get your food
brought here." She went on without giving my rescuer a
change to answer, "What's your table number?"
"I'm not sure...."
"Ok, what's your room number?"
"Two twelve."
That was a sign of the type of place this was. Anyone
could come here for a drink and a meal. Clearly so few did that
it was assumed that anyone here must be staying at the hotel.
When the waitress had gone I re-introduced myself, "It's me!
We were students together? Remember?"
She stared at me. I took off my glasses. My eyesight
had never been perfect, but I didn't start wearing glasses until
some years after starting work. That had no effect, she
continued to stare in puzzlement; it was perhaps stupid of me
to have thought otherwise. I then remembered that I hadn't yet
said her name.
"Julie? You liked my tea, remember?"
My memory struck her forcefully. "Dave! Is that you?
Surely not?"
I nodded smiling broadly.
"It isn't just your tea I remember. What are you doing
here?"
"Me? What about you? How long's it been?"
"Too long. Years, even since you wrote."
That was something I'd have rather left forgotten. A
few years after university I went through a bad and lonely time.
I moved from one rented room to the next every few months. I
had no place of my own, and a succession of strange landlords
and ladies in whose house I stayed. One, a pleasant enough
bloke in many ways, brought home a succession of what he
called his 'ladies'. He bedded them and sent them on their way
to be replaced in a few days with another. I was not the only
lodger, there were two young women too. He had one in the
end, but the other knew him too well was too wary to fall for
his charm. In amongst all this nocturnal bedhopping I always
slept alone. It was then that I wrote to Julie. I told her how
desperate I felt. I told her how much I wanted to make love to
her, and her alone. I told her how her memory haunted me. She
did write back, it was clear that she felt uncomfortable about it
all. To spare her further embarrassment I held back, and after
writing her a grovelling apology for my unwarranted candour, I
never wrote to her again. I did see her again however, at a
summer party shortly before her marriage.
I looked at the table, "I'm sorry about that."
"It's ok, it was a long time ago."
"It was a difficult time for me, I shouldn't have
burdened you with all that."
"It was a difficult time for me too. I was breaking up
with Jonathon."
Jonathon was her long time fianc , the one she'd been
unfaithful to with me.
"But wasn't he at that party?"
"What party?" she asked, then she remembered, "Oh,
That party! Yes, he was there. We were over it all by then."
I wondered whether I should ask. It was a simple
enough question, but should I even ask it? Would it bring up
too many memories? As I wondered her food arrived. I put the
question to one side as we ate. Our conversation turned to
small talk - what we had been doing since we'd last met, that
sort of thing. For some reason mutual friends and old
acquaintances failed to make any further appearance in our
talk. We caught up on us, not them. It turned out she had
become a junior hospital doctor in the few years since after our
last meeting. The long, long hours and interminable pressure
had taken its toll and after a few weeks teetering in the brink
with a bottle in her hand she had left and become an
occupational health specialist working for a succession of
companies. This, apparently was what had brought her to this
place - she had just finished a couple of days working at a
nearby car engine works. Tomorrow she'd hit the motorway
again: another day, another slew of cases of repetitive strain
injury and requests for chest x-rays. Her eyes lit up when she
recounted the day when a worker had fallen into an empty
paint thinner tank. She positively gloried in the details of the
unfortunate man's near-asphyxiation. Such was her working
life. In all she said there was no mention of anyone waiting at
home, or indeed of any home at all.
I told her of my life, such as it was. Travelling here
and there, each time to meet the equipment that had filled most
of my working life. I was the expert: the one, the only. That
also meant that wherever it went I went too. To field or cliff,
with only sea-birds and bedraggled sheep and sheepish rabbits
for company. At one time there were others on site too, but I
had, in that name of progress, redesigned the kit to eliminate
the need for them too. In seeking technical perfection and
economic success for my company I had condemned myself to
endless weeks, months and eventually years alone. I never
stayed anywhere long enough to get to know anyone, and I
somehow had no chances of even one one night stand to
lighten the dreariness. Here I was, on transit yet again. My
ship, that had wandered the oceans for so long, had at long last
met another. We were destined, no doubt, to sail off as quickly
as we'd met.
We ate, our meal slipped down easily. We had coffee
together. We talked more. We smiled at each other, we joked
with each other, we remembered together. In the time we were
together I was young again, and the world around me seemed
bright once more. I felt alive.
The time bell went. Two hours had flown by. She got
up to leave. I didn't want her to, I wanted this to last forever.
She said she had to go. I knew she would have to go sometime.
"When will I see you again?" I asked as she got up.
"Sooner that last time I hope. Much sooner."
"I hope so too. I've enjoyed tonight."
"I have too. Give me a call soon!" with that she
smiled. I got up and extended my hand to shake hers. She
refused it, preferring to lean over and kiss me on the cheek. I
closed eyes and smiled inwardly. She turned and rushed out
thorough the doors and out towards the hotel across the car
park.
That was it! She was gone. Our ships had passed.
A few minutes later I walked along the first floor
corridor to my room: two sixteen. I ticked off the room
numbers as I passed them: two eight, ten... then two twelve. I
stopped. I heard a television in a room further along the
corridor. I raised my hand to knock, but before I could pluck up
the courage I heard the stairwell doors open. I hurriedly moved
on. Moments later I was in my room and shut out my fear and
disappointment. I heard approaching footsteps. I held my
breath before they passed by, their rhythm unbroken as they
passed my door. I hurriedly prepared for bed. Tonight I had
good reason to hurry, a special reason. I soon would see Julie
again. That thought alone brought me to hardness.
As I drew back the covers to expose those virgin
sheets I realised that it was all just a dream. She had not given
me her number, or her address, or even her company! I now
had two urgent needs, for release and for how to contact her
again. My sexual needs would just have to wait. Maybe she'd
already be asleep - maybe not. Should I call or go to her
room? Going in person would be too much, too threatening to
her, far too obvious. No, it was time to use the phone, in any
case it gave me a chance for my straining erection to subside. I
lifted the phone, it purred gently at me. I dialled. It rang once, I
almost put it down in fear. I didn't. What if I woke her? Would
she be angry with me? What would she be wearing? What if it
were nothing? No, forget all that - it was the phone after all. It
rang again, and then again. The fourth ring started but was cut
short by her answer.
"Hello! It's me, Dave."
"Oh, what do you want?"
"I'm sorry if I woke you."
"No, it's ok, I was just reading. Its good to hear your
voice again."
"What? Missing me so soon?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe a bit."
"Well you'll be missing me a whole lot more soon.
You forgot to give me your number." The oddness of that
struck me. Here I was ringing her yet saying I didn't know her
number. I knew where she slept yet I didn't know where she
lived.
"I didn't?!"
"No, you left without telling me."
"Did I? Tell you what, give me a few moments then
come to my room, two twelve. I'll give you my details. How's
that?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course I am. Now get yourself round here, I
can't wait all night, I've got to get some sleep."
I didn't wait to be asked twice. I fumbled the phone
on to its hook as best I could. I rushed to my case and pulled on
whatever clothes I could pull out. Before two minutes had
passed I stood by her door poised to knock. Yet for a moment I
couldn't. I had visions of her opening the door naked and
pulling me in to her boudoir. Or maybe clothed only in a satin
night dress held on her shoulders by thong straps that she
alluringly slid aside to let the soft purple garment slide down
her body pausing only as it snagged lightly on her erect
nipples. I knocked. She opened it. My dreams blew away, she
was dressed exactly as she had been earlier, in a steel-grey
power-dresser suit tailored to mean business. My heart
dropped.
"Come in," she said matter-of-factly. She turned and
walked back into her room. I was just like mine. On the right
the door was the bathroom, its door ajar and the light inside on.
The d cor was the same, the bed the same, the TV the same
there was even the same landscape print on the wall above the
bed. Just like mine, the door closed itself behind me.
Documents lay on the floor. I negotiated them carefully. "Sit
down," she said as she knelt down to pick something out of her
case. She got up and turned to me. "Here you are." She put
something in my hand, closing my fingers over it, as I sat on
the bed. "Would you like a tea or coffee?" she asked as she
turned away from me and neatly stepping round the strewn
papers, went to the regulation kettle to turn it on. I opened my
hand and looked down. There was her business card, and I
could feel there was something else underneath. I lifted the
card away with my other hand, revealing a rectangular foil
packet concealing a slightly flattened ring. It was a condom.
"What's this?" I said in surprise.
"My card, isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, but..."
"Oh! That! Isn't that what you wanted too?"
I felt ashamed, a fraud and a cheat. It was over twenty
years later and I still hadn't forgiven myself for violating her
that cold November night. I dropped my head and was on the
point of sobbing when she came and sat down beside me
saying, "I wanted it too."
"You did?" I sniffed.
"Yes, and I've not given you that just so that you can
remember old times."
"What do you mean?"
"I want you to stay. I want you to... here, I'll show
you." She undid the buttons on her jacket and then on her
blouse. "See... Here...." She took my hand and drew it up to
her, pulling it to her breast.
"But... oh... but what about your husband?"
"Forget him. He left me before I left hospital work.
He couldn't take the pressure. He's with an ambulance driver
now."
I didn't ask about the driver's gender.
"But what about your old fianc ? Did I do anything to
you two... you know?"
"When we made love you mean? Well yes, I hated
myself for a while. I hated everyone for a while, I even hated
your roommate, even though he wasn't the one who'd made
love to me."
"Did he?"
She moved my hand over her breast, feeling her
erecting nipple through the delicate fabric of her bra. "No,
never."
"What colour is it?"
"Dark."
"No," I said with my eyes closed, "your bra."
"Blue, don't you want to see for yourself?" She spread
her legs and hitched up her skirt. "Here, see. They match my
knickers."
I daren't look. I pulled away from her.
"What's wrong, don't you want me?"
"I want you so much, I've wanted you for over twenty
years. I've come in beds like this over and over thinking of
you, thinking how wonderful it'd be to be here with you."
"But I am here," she said softly through those liquid
hazel eyes as she undid all the buttons on her jacket and blouse.
"Now I'm here I don't know if I can do it."
She seemed to see that my eyes were glued to her blue
clad crotch. "Is this what you want?" she said as she lifted one
leg on to the bed. Her hair barely darkened the fabric. Her
scent, the only one that I'd remembered seemingly forever,
poured out, filling the room. Almost instantly. With her foot on
the bed and her knee up in the air she slid her hand between her
legs and after slipping her fingers over the leg hem she lifted
the fabric up, prompting a fresh blast of her glorious scent.
I gulped. "Are you already wet?"
"You could sail the Queen Mary in me." She pulled
the fabric to her raised thigh, exposing her vulva. Her hair
glistened in the light, just like it had in that hall room. The
scent was even more powerful than I remembered. I could not
control myself, I dropped to my knees before her and pushed
her lower knee aside, opening her further. I didn't need to tease
her open this time, I didn't need to prise her panties from her, I
didn't need to ask and be pushed away. I needed to devour her
there and then. Her scent begged to be felt, to be savoured and
to be tasted.
"Please," I gasped as I slipped my cheek along her
thigh. As our lips touched she threw her head back and arched
her belly forwards. I didn't lick her delicately with the tip of
my tongue, I didn't roll her flesh between my lips, instead as
soon as I touched I thrust my tongue between her lips, aiming
to penetrate her. She didn't resist at all. She opened her legs
even wider. The only thing closing her was the bunched gusset
of her knickers pressing on her fleshy labia. I thrust my tongue
out again, this time finding her vagina and her flowing
lubrication, full of desire, need and passion. As I entered she
called out, "Yes! There, see you can do it! Oh yes, you really
can do it!"
I plunged my tongue in as hard as I could, feeling her
expand to accept me. Her lubrication tanged pungently. The
walls of her vagina quivered and pulsed. Her hands, now on
my head, firmly held me to her. Twenty or more years of
dreaming about eating her rushed out in one overwhelmingly
urgent act yet she held on through each of my increasingly
powerful thrusts. Yet no matter how hard I pushed, and the bed
creaked to show just how strongly that was, I couldn't enter her
very far with my tongue. Her taste remained as strong, as
irresistible and as perfectly lovely as ever.
"You can do it. Oh Dave,! Yes, yes, you can do it.
You are doing it! That's what I need. That's what you need. I
need you. Please, please, please!!"
I couldn't see her face or her lips and she pleaded with
me. I couldn't even see the lips that filled mine. I could see
nothing, but felt everything as her legs tensed. I could feel the
power growing in them as I caressed her thighs. I felt how the
tension grew each time I pushed my tongue into her. I felt the
spasms begin, at first just tingles, then growing as she
desperately tried to throw herself off the floor. Still I kept on at
her. She pushed my head into her them threw her hands to her
sides, clutching, grabbing and tearing at the bed covers.
"Pleee...eeessse!" she cried out loud. Then she lifted
the both of us clear off the floor for a moment before clasping
her legs tightly around my head. I couldn't force my tongue in
any more, she forced me out of her completely with a massive
push down from deep within. She could say no more. The
tension, at breaking point, filled her whole body. She lurched,
with me still firmly attached, upward from the bed four or more
times, each time crashing down to the bed. Each time I tried
vainly to give her more stimulation, more pleasure - more love.
She threw herself back on to the bed, releasing her iron grip on
my head. I drew my tongue back from her vagina and slipped it
up her labia. I ran the tip of my tongue over where her inner
lips met. She shuddered, crying out, "No, not now!" I
continued, her cries grew more urgent. "Please, no! NOT that!"
She grabbed at my head, pulling it away from her. She raised
her head to look at me. "Not yet! It's too much right now.
Please."
"When won't it be too much?"
"Soon my love, soon. Now it's your turn."
"No! Please don't. Please."
"Why not?"
I looked at her thighs. The bare flesh above her
stocking tops glistened with sweat. Her pubic hair was matted
down with slip, each hair seemingly stuck down to the next. In
an unexpected burst of Self-consciousness she drew her
knicker fabric back over her vulva. The sight had gone, but the
scent remained. A breast burst forth from her jacket. Her nipple
was still full and strongly erect. She had probably been playing
with it herself as I licked her. She drew her jacket over the
instant she saw where my gaze fell.
I stood up, taking pace backward. She, stony-faced,
sat up, straightening her blouse before standing up. Standing
before me, she did up all the buttons on her jacket before
speaking again, dressed as the archetypal career woman.
"Is that what you like then. Screwing the doctor? Is
that it?"
"I didn't screw you?"
"Stop splitting hairs."
"I want to split yours. I want to screw you, yes, but
what I really want is to make love to you fully and
completely."
"Fully and completely?"
"Yes, without this," I confessed showing her the
condom. "We did it once, with nothing between us. I still want
to do it now. If you don't that's ok. If you want to use the
condom that's ok too. If you ask me to go now I will. I'd do
anything for you."
"Because of what's between my legs? That's what
you've tossed off to every night isn't it?"
"No, because of what's in my heart. As I wrote in that
letter, ever since that night I've known I've loved you."
"You've waited all this time for me? How on earth did
you know you'd find me?"
"I didn't know. I just hoped that one day, one night, I
would find you, knowing I never would. And then I did -
tonight and I still love you."
"And what of all the other women you've had? What
of them?"
"Some I thought I might have loved, others I knew I
didn't." I paused. Why lie? "No, one I didn't, I've only ever
made love to one other woman. We were together for four
years. I've never been so happy as I was when my son was
born. We made love right through to the very last night, once
he was born I was redundant. We only made it about ten times
after that. Then nothing I did was right. In the end she left me,
she took our son and simply left me."
She sat down on the bed before saying quietly, "I
know I've delivered a baby or two but what's it like to be at the
birth of your own child?"
"Take your clothes off, ditch that condom, and maybe
you'll find out. I'd love to be by your side as you give birth."
"That's easy for you to say. And where would that be?
Here, there, or at the end of the M1?"
"It could be anywhere. It doesn't matter as long as we,
all three of us, are together."
"Do you really mean that? You've only been with me
for a few hours, and you're planning the rest of our life!"
"You've been with me for over twenty years. Even
when I conceived my son I imagined it was you I was
impregnating."
"I'm not sure how to take that."
"Naked and on your back with six inches of man
pulsating inside you is the normal way."
"It'll never work - us I mean. We'll never be able to
get together. Its hopeless."
"We've both tried relationships before, I know that,
but does that mean we shouldn't try again? It won't be easy,
we'll hardly ever be able to see each other, but we've been
waiting for twenty years so far, what's a few days or weeks
after that?"
She got up and went to the mirror. She looked at
herself for a while.
"Look at me," she said as I went over and stood
behind her. "Can you love that?" I joined her in looking in the
mirror. She was beautiful any way round, her scent hung
around us. I pressed my stiffness in to her buttocks. I reached
around her waist. I held her to me.
"No, I can't love that. I already do, I can't love you
more."
"Oh Dave..." she said as I began to undo the buttons
of her jacket. I gently brushed her breasts as I lifted the jacket
from her shoulders. Dropping it on the floor I placed my hands
on her hips for a few seconds before moving them round to
undo the buttons of her blouse starting at her waist, pulling the
cream fabric from her skirt. I made sure she was watching as I
caressed her breasts through the cloth. It soon joined the jacket
on the floor.
She laughed as later I tried in vain to find the
fastening of the skirt. She helped me to find the button hidden
under a flap of cloth at her side. It dropped to the floor
revealing her full set of blue lace underwear. I stroked her the
exposed flesh of her thighs between her knickers and the top of
her stockings.
"Do I still need the condom?" I whispered into her ear
as I kissed her neck.
"Yes, but do you need a bigger size?" she teased.
"No, I'm sure I'll fill it completely, " I replied as I
fumbled with her suspenders.
"Oh, you will, will you? Here, let me do that. I can see
you've not undressed many women."
"Do you always wear stockings? Isn't it rather old
fashioned?"
"You seem to like them, what's wrong with that?" she
said as she guided my fingers to her stocking tops. We couldn't
see them in the mirror so I dropped down on to my knees,
kissing the tops of the backs of her thighs as I slipped one
stocking down. It was obvious she shaved her legs, but not so
her pussy. I teased the other sheer stocking off, weighing
practically nothing in my hand as I waved it away. Now she
stood in just bra and knickers, her legs slightly apart. As I rose
she turned and, brushing my hands aside as I attempted to
remove her bra, she took the waist of my fleece and lifted it up.
I surrounded to her, lifting my arms straight above my head. As
it cleared our faces we came together, or she came to me, and
kissed. As our tongues joined she unbuttoned my shirt and
roughly pushed it back. Our bare bellies touched, and our kiss
redoubled in passion.
I lurched as she reached for my fly. She unzipped me
in one rapid motion. She found the button almost as difficult as
I had her skirt. With my trousers at my feet she broke our kiss
and walked away smiling. She went over to the window, the
curtains long since drawn for privacy. There, some six feet
away from me she reached behind her and undid the fastening
on her bra. She drew the straps around her bringing the fabric
away from her breasts. She dropped it from out-stretched arms.
Then she dropped her arms back to her sides, exposing her
delicious breasts. As she had said, her nipples were startlingly
dark and already firm set upon discs that protruded a little from
the warm mass of breast tissue. I looked longingly at her,
reaching out to her.
"Not yet. You first."
I wanted her to remove my underwear, for her to
release my erection. She wanted to see it in anatomic detail. I
slipped on finger from each hand into the waistband and rolled
it down, slipping my hands round to my sides as the band
dragged on my buttocks. My well-hardened penis bounced up
when the fold of fabric that held and dragged the tip down
finally gave way. I was the first to be naked, my dark brown
public hair starkly contrasting with the paleness of my skin.
"Oh yes, you're right. You will fill it completely,
won't you!"
I felt pleased at the compliment. The truth is that I'm
not big at all, I'm just mister average, but it does feel good to
have my ego massaged occasionally.
Now it was her turn to reveal all. All that stood
between us was a paper's width of blue lace. She removed it
much as I had done mine, except she didn't have to suffer the
minor indignity of bobbing up. When finally she stood upright
her pubic hair was as beautiful as I remembered, in fact all of
her was, if not more so. It was so light that it didn't hide
anything. She had no need to shave, it was as if she was
already, without removing a single hair. It was that hair that
held her spectacular scent. Releasing it was what her hair
seemed to need to do. It did so, so perfectly that I felt I must
have visibly lengthened, certainly the strain on the skin of my
glans was as great as ever it had been in my life.
She reached out her hand, I put mine in hers. Julie led
me to the bed and pulling the covers back, bid me lie back on
it. I wondered what she had in mind. She reached over to the
bedside unit, opening the drawer, reaching in she took out
another of the packets. She got one the bed, moving over to
straddle my legs. She ran a hand up my legs, holding the packet
on my flesh. Then, over my lower thighs, she rose up and
slipped the packet between her own legs. With a wiggle of her
legs she slipped the foil end-on between her vaginal lips.
Wincing slightly, she pushed into her until it disappeared. Then
she continued her crawl up my body until she could bring her
vulva up to my lips.
"Here, you'll be needing that. You'd better go find it!"
I, surrounded by her hair, lips, thighs and scent, lifted
my head, twisting it to get a better position. She drew her lips
up with her hands, exposing the edge of the now well warmed
packet. I gripped it with my teeth, pulling it out to the
accompaniment of a slight slurping. She took the redolent
packet in her hand and swiftly crawled back down the bed. In
my full view she tore it open. Holding the teat end in one hand
she touched me for the first time with the other, but then it
wasn't the first time was it? I could barely take it as she rolled
the latex down slowly over my penis, one finger teasing the
rubber over the top, another along the ridge at the bottom. I
wanted to fill it there and then, I wanted her to stroke me all the
way, but she had other ideas.
Raising herself once more up my body she came to
rest sitting on my belly button. She leaned forwards and taking
one of my hands she drew me to her pendulant breast. The
nipple strutted forward at me. I took it and rubbed it between
the tips of my fingers. Now free to manoeuvre she lifted herself
and reached around her hips. Leaning forwards even more, she
moved gently backwards. Holding the latex to the bottom of
my shaft she tipped my penis upwards and her hips backwards.
Inevitably the two met. Even through the warm film I could
feel her heat, but I could not fully feel her wetness. Wet she
was. Not merely damp, as she pushed back I slipped in so
easily with no dragging that the completeness of her lubrication
could be in no doubt. She pressed her full weight on me, I
could feel her pressing on me from above, and then as she drew
a deep breath, from all sides. We were together for the first
time in over twenty years and only the second time in our lives.
I looked into her eyes. She smiled at me - a smile that began
lovingly and turned to lust, "Oh my love, you do fill it
completely!"
She had shown the promise of great vaginal muscle
control on the November night, now she fulfilled the promise.
With barely a motion of body against body she rippled and
surged inside and around me. When she did begin to ride me it
was to enhance an already beautiful motion, where her vagina
left off her labia carried on, slipping over my full length so that
on each stroke I nearly slipped out of her altogether. There was
no doubt that her control was conscious; with many of her
strokes she told me precisely what she was doing, "I'm pushing
you out. Get bigger for me now. Here it comes, squeezing you
in, bit by bit. All the way in, I'm holding you in, stay with me
now!"
Lifted both hands up to her breasts as she bucked over
me.
"Do you want me now?" she asked as her thrusts
became faster and more direct.
"I've got you. I always want you."
"But do you.... Aaaahhhhhhhhh.. . do you really want
me?"
"Yes, YES!" I felt the beginnings of her orgasm, and
wanted to join her, I began actively thrusting up to her.
Suddenly she rose up away from me and I dropped out. I was
so close to coming that I felt I might have already been beyond
the point of no return, but I wasn't. She had felt very tight from
within the condom: hot, tight and strong. Stronger than she had
all those years ago. All that pressure was gone.
She rolled over on to her back, spreading her legs
wide. She pulled at my hand, she wanted me to join her. I got
up to my knees and moved over her thigh to kneel between her.
I gripped the open end of the condom between, trying to slip it
back fully over my penis where it had ridden up with the force
of her thrusting. She raised her knees around me, hemming me
in. Then she reached between us. I thought she wanted to check
the position for the condom for the final onslaught, but instead
of helping me to pull it on she took the teat end and pulled.
"What are you doing?"
"Do you love me?"
"Oh yes," I said looking into her eyes.
"Do you want me?"
"Oh yes, yes, yes!"
"Then really take me! Get in me and take me!"
With her guiding me I moved to join with her once
more. Her warmth welcomed me.
"Do you really want this? I mean with no protection?"
"YES! Now shut up and fuck me!"
I leant forward, dropping down to kiss her. She pulled
her head away at first, then turned back to me with open lips.
Below, my penis, with the help of her hand, found her other
lips, and they were open too. With her silenced by my lips this
time, I thrust in. Her guidance was expert, I slipped right in one
motion. Now I really could feel her lubrication. I no longer felt
as though I was penetrating her, invading her, instead she was
inviting me, offering herself, taking me in. Instead of actively
stimulating me with her vaginal muscles she became more
docile and passive, she wanted to be taken. She wanted to be
fucked. I tried to accommodate her, thrusting from the outset in
long powerful thrusts, sometimes pushing her up the sheets,
always drawing creaks and knocks from the bed. I frantically
pushed my hand between us, rubbing her engorged clitoris
clumsily but effectively. Our kissing continued until the
pressure building in me became too great to bear. Our lips
disengaged involuntarily, our worlds dissolved.
In that hotel room our lives began again. We loved.
We made love. We married. It was to be just over a year before
she, swearing and shouting at me and crushing my forearm
with her vice grip, found out for herself what it really felt like
to give birth. Our daughter came home, to a real home with
parents who no longer spent their lives in hotel rooms. We had
no more children; neither of us was as young as we had been in
that hall room. Our life together was never easy, nor was it
easy to keep that spark that had re-ignited our sexual passion.
Like the phoenix, we arose as new from the ashes of our
failures. We'd have more fires, and more re-births, but we were
to stay together, and, for the most part, the stains on the sheets
were ours, not just mine.
She clasped the sheet spastically in her hands -
clawing, grabbing, clutching. She arched her hips up on
heaving thighs that lifted us both a few inches off the bed. She
thrust her head back on to the headboard which thumped the
wall. She gripped me inside. I held on to her sides as hard as I
could to stay with her. I thrust my head to her breast, I needed
to hear her heart as it pounded her head and body and me
within it. She slammed back down, momentarily opening up
inside. "Open for me! OPEN!" I cried. I thrust in as hard as I
could, our hair mingling, our pubic bones pushing against each
other through burning flesh. Darkness came over me and I
came, my whole body a mass of tension, everything pushing
out of me and into her. I gave her everything, she took it all.
I remember feeling the softness of her breast on my
cheek as I heard the thump-thump-thump.. thump... thump of
her heart. We lay on the bed, me atop her, loose and spent now,
all our power and tension gone, mine left in her in just a few
runnels of semen. The seconds passed, she lifted her head and
bent down to kiss my forehead. She caressed my back tenderly.
My full weight still pressed on her, yet she did not make me
move. When I did raise my hips, our sweaty, sticky flesh
parting like a zip, she moved her hand, that hand, to my
buttocks to press me gently back in. We stayed together,
wordlessly together, until I softened and with a gentle push
within she expelled me. Now I rose, swinging over her so that I
could lie beside her. She allowed me to touch her wet hair, but
not to stimulate her more. We lay awake for no more than five
minutes, then she turned away from me. Pulling the covers up,
I turned to her, pressing against her, feeling the damp patch on
the sheets behind her thigh.
I woke to a now familiar smell and an unfamiliar
feeling between my legs. She lay beside me on her side, one
leg on the bed, the other hitched up in the air, her pussy open
and wet barely inches from my mouth. She held my erection
tightly in one hand and lightly licked my glans to and fro with
the tip of her tongue.
"Can you feel my pulse?" I asked. It was a good thing
she didn't mind the taste of semen....
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