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Synopsis: A woman of refinement learns unexpected lessons in a life drawing class.
Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, almost in time with the rapid beating of her heart. A late winter wind thrust icy fingers up her bare legs, and even protected by her long coat she could feel the cold air licking at her bare abdomen and the small of her back. This was ridiculous — the wind-chill had to be in the teens, and she had worn her new shorts and sexy little crop top out of the store as though destined for a midsummer boat ride, not a blustery winter afternoon.
Bad judgment, but then she had exercised bad judgment all morning. She revisited “her” pin-up painting at the gallery and fell under its erotic spell again, then studied other works to obtain additional ideas for sexy outfits. A cab ride to an uptown boutique called Classic Pleasures placed her in front of a scrumptious array of flirty garments. Charles wanted her to dress up for him in the bedroom, she reasoned, he’d been begging her to do it for months. She had been blessed with the ideal body to enliven these slinky little outfits, and just think of his pleasure when he found her curves all gift-wrapped on their honeymoon night. After wriggling her perfect parts into countless things, she bought a lacey bustier and seamed nylons with matching garters, as well as a deep violet fishnet bodystocking. Plus two pair of crotchless panties. And leather wrist restraints.
At another store she added a pair of super short shorts and a little nothing of a crop top, things she could wear to look fabulous outside of the bedroom. I’m going to Thailand and Indonesia on my honeymoon, she kept telling herself. How many women would look this good wearing so little? I want my husband to feel lucky, and proud. I want to look all sexy for Charles, I want him to see my legs and bare waist shining in the bright sunlight. I want him to see my fabulous breasts almost spilling out of this tiny little top, there for him to squeeze like a pair of ripe tropical fruit.
But her reasoning was false and she knew it. Almost the whole time she shopped, the pictures in her mind included Pierce West’s eyes widening in appreciation of her fine form, as well as Joel and Giuseppe and the stacked model. A veritable menagerie of phantom suitors, all salivating over her minimally covered body. With her brain full of ghosts and treacherous desires, she couldn’t fool herself, not really. If she found herself in the tropics with Charles right now, she’d probably be plotting some secret rendezvous with a bellhop or the pool boy, or even some hot-bodied waitress at the hotel bar.
And the wrist restraints… What was that all about? What on earth did she intend to do with them, tie Charles’ wrists to their bedposts? Or were the restraints for her? But Charles would never… No. They had nothing to do with Charles, she knew that deep down. Which meant… something unthinkable.
She arrived in front of Pierce’ studio building, the wind whipping at her drawing pad, her hands clutching tight to keep things together. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes early. Too early to go inside, even with the cold?
“Catherine!” someone called. “Hey!”
She recognized the voice. Joel. Oh my. It wasn’t too hard to guess why he might be anxious for class to begin.
He greeted her with a smile and even a little hug. Catherine felt nervous around him — perhaps it was his special alone time with the yesterday’s model, or because she feared that he would ask what she had in her shopping bag. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way the hug made her nipples tingle with a delicious intensity. She tried to present a calm front but caught herself assessing him in an inappropriate way, taking his measure with her body as much as her eyes. Joel was a tall, nice looking and engaging kid, it really wasn’t hard to see why the model had found him attractive. Especially with that bulge tenting the crotch of his pants yesterday.
Stop thinking like that!, she silently admonished herself. They went inside together and she nervously stared at the ceiling while waiting for the elevator. But then, the silence unbearable, she heard an unnecessary comment falling out of her mouth, about how hot Pierce kept the drawing studio and how she’d dressed this time with the high temperature in mind. They chatted about their drawings as they rode to the fourth floor, and she could see Joel trying to judge what she might be wearing under her long coat. It almost made her laugh, but it also made her wonder about her motivations. Had she alluded to her skimpy attire to ease Joel’s shock at the moment of her unveiling, or was she deliberately teasing him?
Out in the hallway, she realized that Joel was talking to her and that she hadn’t been listening. He was going on about how he was giving serious thought to studying veterinary medicine. She didn’t know how the thread of their conversation had transitioned from their drawings to Joel’s career plans, but she felt like she could jump in without betraying her level of distraction.
“T…that sounds so wonderful, Joel.”
“You’d really be impressed if you knew how much of a change it is for me. I put in one year at a community college and then dropped out, and what have I been doing of any use since then? Probably nothing. I have three roommates, I work a night shift in a bookstore and chase girls almost every day. But all this time I’ve really loved animals. My last girlfriend had one of those new designer dogs, a Labradoodle, and I think I miss the dog more than the girl. I may have finally figured out what I want to do with myself.”
She was happy for him and distressed for herself. Why couldn’t she know what she wanted to do with her life? She thought she had known at one time. She had enjoyed her editorial job and assumed that she’d make a career of it. But there could be no publishing career in Pennsylvania, not if she raised children properly. And she’d been okay with that trade-off, her career for her marriage and the inevitable mansion life. She had been able to imagine herself at thirty or forty, attending fundraisers and cocktail parties, perhaps even serving on the boards of charitable organizations. But if she really wanted the manicured life she was headed for, why did every impulse and thought seem to be carrying her in a different direction all of a sudden?
She felt totally confused as she and Joel entered the drawing studio together. Catherine’s thighs began to quiver the moment she saw Pierce, her vagina responding to him as though her masturbatory fantasies had actually taken place. It was all she could do to refrain from whipping her coat open, as though to expose her sexy new outfit with all the theatricality of a superhero posing in their tights. She chewed on her bottom lip and mumbled a breathy greeting, then hung back at the far end of the room, wetly brooding as the other students trickled in.
She overheard bits of conversations. A middle-aged woman, Claire, was telling Ben how she had reached out to her rebellious daughter, trying to repair a family wound that had festered for years. A man the same age spoke about his battle with depression since being laid off from his accounting job, and how he had just bought a guitar, his early success in this drawing class giving him the courage to try another thing he’d always wanted to do. Snippets of ordinary life, and bully for her classmates and their collective discoveries. While they were hugging their families and taking up instruments when they weren’t in drawing class, she was falling prey to the wishes of her newly discovered inner whore, who wanted to collect soft porn paintings and engage in wee hours phone sex.
And wear inappropriate clothing. What had she been thinking, dressing like this? What would the other students think? She had worn a sexy outfit yesterday, but this was different. This was pure show-off material, a declarative body-slam. The shorts were obscenely tiny, and the deep “V” neckline of her crop top showed more cleavage than most lingerie. She was ultra-desirable and she knew it, but she had never been a show-off, not like this. Today she looked like an outright fuck-toy. And here in this bag… Quietly, without drawing any attention, her right hand sneaked into the bag, her fingers wanting to touch the fine material of the bustier, and the stockings, and the fishnet bodystocking…
“Ohhh,” she sighed, and hoped that no one heard. Her reaction to the things in her bag made her suspect that she was lying to herself again. Did she enjoy exhibiting her body more than she had realized? Several memories surfaced all at once, occasions when she had dressed all sexy just to create a stir in someone’s pants. She had attended an all-girls school from grades six to twelve, diminishing her chances to tease boys with her developing body. But in the summers, at the pool or vacationing at the beach… And she distinctly remembered wearing a skirt of completely inappropriate length to an uncle’s funeral when she was seventeen, just to torture a younger cousin who’d always had a crush on her.
And much more recently — hadn’t she dressed to tease when meeting William Lafort for coffee that last time? William had been the loser in the contest for her hand; he was an editor at Elle who had done everything he could to steal her affections away from Charles. She’d allowed things to go as far as heavy petting at his apartment one night; but it was their final meeting that she was thinking of now, the coffee shop send-off when she informed William that Charles had proposed, and she had accepted. She had deliberately dressed in her shortest, tightest dress and a push-up bra that morning, just to leave a painful picture in William’s mind, a clear impression of the gorgeous body he would never have the chance to awaken to in the morning.
How… cruel. She should call him some time, to apologize. But there were so many instances of bad behavior like that if she wanted to be honest about it, going all the way back to childhood. She’d always been extremely pretty. She’d even known at an early age that her ballet training was sculpting her body in ways that would pay sexual dividends as she matured. Had she always been a bit of an exhibitionist and a cock-tease? Had she always been willing to use her sexuality to gain attention or inflict wounds, without ever admitting that to herself?
As these thoughts spun around and around, she found herself meandering towards the door of the adjoining room, the place where the busty model had emerged from the day before. How much time did the models spend here, and was that same girl in there right now, taking her clothes off, her large breasts swinging free as she removed her bra? Catherine almost gasped from the sudden vividness of the image. Yesterday’s model was sexy enough to inflict pain with her body, too. Funny how that balance was there, the simultaneous ability to inflict great pain or great pleasure when one is so desirable.
Pierce’ voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. He asked the class to gather in a seated circle again, and she finally joined her fellow students, choosing to keep her coat on. She felt hot and distracted in every sense of both words, and she trembled in her chair, secretly torn between wishing to hide and wanting to show the whole class how lovely and sexy she looked.
Pierce addressed them, saying that he was so pleased with the drawings they had presented at the end of yesterday’s class. They had all progressed in ways that should excite them to no end. And today, in this third class, they had reached the mid-point of their instruction.
“Today’s class is crucial,” he stated, pacing back and forth within the interior of their circle. “Perhaps you will have no interest in continuing to draw once this short course is over, and that is absolutely fine. At this point, drawing should be seen as an experiment that could grow into a passion one day, and you’ll know in time whether or not the passion is there. But as I’ve tried to convey from the very beginning, the openness you show in this class is a metaphor for the manner in which you approach other aspects of your lives. We carry our true selves with us everywhere we go. We can choose our paths to some extent, navigating life’s joys and sorrows, but there is no escape from the fundamental attitudes with which we meet our particular circumstances. If we grasp what we really want right here in this classroom, then we can also expect to grasp our dreams elsewhere. And if we shy away from success here, the same principal will hold true in our other endeavors.”
Catherine listened, her gaze affixed to Pierce’ lean body and the confidence expressed in every short stride. Oh God, I’d like to grasp that, she thought. She felt overheated sitting there in her long coat. Her body trembled and her legs kept fidgeting, because she wanted to… Oh fuck, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She wanted to run from the classroom and never come back, and yet she also wanted to push Pierce to the floor and straddle him, dangling her tits in front of his face. And she wanted to take Joel’s hand and escort him to the rest room and blow him, whether he taught her how to do it well or not. And she wanted to slip into the neighboring room, to see if the athletic model with the huge boobs was waiting there. And if she was…
“Last class I had you draw rapidly and almost blindly,” Pierce went on. “There wasn’t sufficient time for you to plot your next move, everything had to come together so quickly. The challenge gave you the freedom to arrive at unexpected destinations, your ‘inner selves’ making choices for you, choices that, once allowed, you then had to struggle with in some way. And you’ve succeeded admirably, all of you, you’ve come quite far. But is it far enough? It is very human to say at this point, ’That’s enough, I’ve already accomplished more than I thought I could. I’ve dug very deep and now I can just coast, there is no reason to push any farther.’
And that is exactly why this third class is so crucial. You have accomplished so much, but there is much more that can be achieved. Scratching the surface is not the same as digging deep, and perhaps we cannot even imagine what talents remain unexplored, what abilities still lie dormant. You must continue to push the limits, and today’s class will be structured to assist you in that regard. The degree of complexity will be raised, and my hope is that you will respond to the greater challenges ahead. I am asking you to continue on this journey of discovery, with even more fire, and more initiative. When presented with greater obstacles, can you continue to push forward? Can you not only be open, but remain open? Can we all push ahead today, even farther than before?”
The class almost erupted in their acceptance of Pierce’ challenge. Catherine, however, remained silent. Pierce was a great motivational speaker, as good or better than any of her old dance instructors. She recognized the tone of voice, the same appeal to excellence that had motivated her to practice pliés and arabesques nearly every day for so many years, making her body strong and supple, her dance routines precise and graceful. But even knowing the old motivational tricks, she was moved by Pierce’ words. And shaken, too — the lecture and the heat in the room had conspired against her. She felt beads of sweat forming all over her body, and even worse, it was monsoon season between her legs. It was impossible to sit still and she almost cried out with relief when her drawing teacher asked them to close their eyes for another of his guided meditations.
Yes, oh yes, she must relax and listen, and follow the breath, and go so very deep. And yes, she would allow this voice to enter her being in a wholly new way, slipping through all of the cracks in her defenses. Her breathing was going in and out, in and out, a steady rhythm that would take her so deep, and open her so wide. She would long for this in/out rhythm. She would crave it. Her body’s senses would become more acute, every sensation heightened, and she would flow in the steady stream of this sound, following the breath and following the instructions, allowing them to permeate her mind and her flesh, allowing them to become one with her deepest desires.
Yes, she wanted to learn, she was dying to learn. She wanted her body to become so talented, and indefatigable. Her appreciation of the human body was growing every second. Her appreciation for her own body and its capabilities was growing every second, and this appreciation thrilled and excited her. Her body’s natural talents were unfolding, with energy slipping into every crack and crevice, permeating every cell and every pore.
Her ability to see was widening; aspects of her body’s needs that had always felt vague were coming into sharp focus. And yes, there were repercussions stemming from the increase in her perceptions and abilities. Choices had already been made that confused her; decisions were being arrived at that seemed out of character. These situations were disorienting, not because they were false or unreal, but because her truest desires had been hidden from her perceptions until now. Feeling the truth was like playing with fire, so perilous, yet so thrilling. Seeing the truth was a hard thing, but she desired hard things, and she would pursue them. Her desire for truth was like an engine, like a hot furnace, like an unstoppable current sucking her ever forward towards her goals…
And yes, oh God yes, the next instructions were for her and her alone, for Catherine. She was special and completely deserving of special instructions. The rest of the class would feel inspiration and the desire to achieve their truest goals, but she was different, she had so much potential, so much potential to achieve unimaginable pleasures if she could only move forward to grasp what she wanted.
And she would be drawn forward. She might manage to avoid certain confrontations for a brief time, but there was no real escape. Doubts and fears would surface, yet she would navigate these emotions, always being drawn forward. She might feel impulsive or wicked or even unhinged, and these were the times for her ordinary mind to step aside, to let things flow. Part of her might wish to stop, might even tell her to stop — but she would not stop, she would not stop, she could not stop…
Yes, she had come, she had come so far, but her journey was not completed. Halfway was not far enough; even the half-filled glass aches to be completely filled. The human body, like a glass, is a beautiful vessel, and all vessels ache to be filled. There were depths within her that had never been probed, and nothing could be more exciting than having these secret places finally touched. Until she was completely filled, she could never stop aching, and longing, and needing…
The need was explosive, so powerful that she would doubt its reality. And yet all doubts, all questioning, all hesitations or confusion or resistance — they were merely forms of inner friction, creating a fire of longing that would consume her and drive her forward. The inner friction was liquid, it permeated her body and her emotions, providing a volatile fuel that would take her on journeys far beyond any place she had gone before.
And the journey began today. Desires tugged at her and she must follow. She could run but she could not hide from the desires, they permeated her being and permeated her flesh — there could be no escape. The possibility of explosive creativity lay before her and she would not let this day slip by without tasting it, no matter the cost. She would taste it, she must taste it. Today. Oh God, yes, she would taste explosive fulfillment, and freedom, and love it, no matter what...
Catherine bathed herself in the words, in the tone of Pierce’ voice. She was special, oh yes she was so special, with so much to give. And she would feel special, her beautiful body remembering these words for her, responding to the instructions, irresistibly drawing her forward. These words bathed her heated flesh in warm, sweet sound, the vibrations permeated her beautiful body, creating and sustaining a glistening sheen of desire that she could never overcome. She could try to resist but she would not stop, she could not stop…
Floating, breathing, sensing, feeling so inspired and so special… She gradually became aware that the other students were moving, beginning to claim easels and arrange themselves in the room. She blinked her eyes open, her body so hot and wet, so ready for anyone… anything, that might come next. Rather absently, she stood and found an easel for herself, and positioned her drawing pad upon it. And then, without hesitancy or ceremony, she removed her long coat and draped it on the back of a nearby chair.
She always felt so alive after Pierce’ little meditations. She was both energized and relaxed, a remarkable combination of feelings. The specifics of his motivational techniques remained a mystery — she wouldn’t be able to recall his exact words if her life depended on it — but she might be willing to say that the man was a genius when it came to motivational speaking, because she always felt so brave and determined after spending a few minutes listening to his voice. And it wasn’t only about drawing — she had been a wreck a few minutes ago, fearing her classmates’ judgment about her recent clothing purchases. And sure, they were all staring at her, how could they help it? She had such a beautiful body and they were scrutinizing every detail. She felt eyes affixed to her firm bare waist, to the awe-inspiring curvature of her ass and thighs. Every little jiggle of her breasts was being studied as she adjusted the height of her easel. And let them stare, in fact she welcomed it. The truth was that she was almost indescribably hot, and they got hot over her being so hot, and that just made her feel hotter.
A soft cry escaped her lips when she spied Pierce, standing across the room, assessing her curves. She saw deep appreciation in his eyes and it got to her. She couldn’t see what was going on below his waist from her current position, but she could imagine his cock growing hard in his pants. The sight of his swelling cock was there almost like a vision, so clear in her mind, so graphic… Oh, God, her drawing teacher getting all hard for her, his meat expanding and throbbing, wanting her, wanting to fill her… She loved hard things, and she wanted to taste them…
Just like the model had tasted Joel yesterday. She could see Joel getting hard for her again — he was almost directly across from her, his eyes locked onto her cleavage, his mouth hanging open like he just couldn’t believe the extent of the delights being shown to him. She felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and something shifted between her legs, her wet itchiness intensifying into something more like an insistent ache. Her hands began to gravitate towards her molten delta and she had to fight with all of her will to keep from massaging the crotch of her shorts right in front of everyone. Oh fuck, I’m going to lose it, she thought. Right here in this classroom, I’m going to totally lose it, and fall onto my knees masturbating, or end up begging Joel or Pierce to fuck me, to fill my aching pussy. Dammit! I have to hold on, I have to get a grip!
Her eyes caught movement and she turned her head, and saw yesterday’s model step out from the adjoining room. The girl wasn’t wearing a robe today, and Catherine’s eyes immediately focused upon her burgeoning breasts, undulating with every step. Oh God. She had almost forgotten how totally gorgeous this model was. She saw additional movement and gasped out loud as a completely naked man came into view, calmly following behind the girl. Oh wow, oh God. She hadn’t expected a male model, and certainly not a man and a woman together! Catherine’s eyes quickly absorbed the man’s overall physique, and the package in his middle. Like the girl, he was probably a student athlete of some sort, with broad shoulders and well-developed thighs and calves. His penis was not erect, but even in this state it was clear that he had more going on than her husband-to-be. Wow, oh wow, ohhh wowww…
Pierce’ soothing voice cut into her sense of heated wonderment. “I spoke earlier about greater complexity, and the need to go farther. As you see, we will have a second model joining us today. These two models will pose together, and because of the greater complexity, the poses will be taken for longer durations of time. I want to see both models in your drawings, given equal attention, their forms interacting on your paper just as their bodies interact in space. Remember how we discussed the crucial relationship between shapes in our very first class. Here, with a male and female model in close proximity, you will have a wider variety of shapes to consider, as well as the literal relationship implied between the two figures.
I want you to spend some time walking around the room today, viewing the models from various angles before you decide on your own position. Take nothing for granted. The act of drawing begins before you set your charcoal to paper, it begins with the choice of your own point of view. Drawing can be so much more than a means of ‘capturing’ something — it is a form of communication, a means by which you make a statement. The position from which you choose to draw the models will tell the viewer something about your relationship to what you see before you.
Some of you might wish to set your easels relatively distant from the models, while others will want to come quite close, the space between the model and the artist severely narrowed. Tell us something with your choice. A distant view suggests emotional detachment, while a more intimate viewpoint might speak of engagement, or curiosity, or even attraction. I want you to explore your relationship to the models. Then, once you feel that you have something specific to say, dive in with all the energy you can muster.”
Catherine stood, transfixed, as the two models found their positions on the raised stand. The man sat in a chair, his back straight, his legs slightly parted. The busty girl eased her rear onto the floor of the stand, curling her legs beneath her great ass, resting her head on the man’s left thigh. Their arms and hands found positions of contact on each other’s bodies, and Catherine felt the itchy flow between her legs about to become a gusher.
She had danced with plenty of hunky guys in leotards in her ballet years, some gay but some not, and she had been appreciative of her partners’ physiques without getting all excited. This should be no different, she shouldn’t be feeling like this. There was nothing overtly sexual about the models’ pose — they hadn’t lined up into positions of fornication or even anything suggesting foreplay. Still, just seeing two attractive bodies interacting like that, with the girl’s head resting mere inches away from the male model’s penis…
Some of the other students began to walk around the room as Pierce had suggested. Catherine took two steps forward but then she stopped, her vision seeming to tunnel for an instant. The male model’s penis looked slightly larger than before, and she started to wonder… What if he got hard because of the way she had dressed today? What if he got all hard, with his thing so close to the girl’s face?
She saw the female model look up at her, their eyes locking for a moment. A faint smile played at the corners of the model’s mouth, as though she knew something, or recognized something. Catherine shivered. There had been some kind of message in that slight smile, some sort of communication. What was it? An acknowledgement of the guy’s thing starting to get stiff? Or had the model’s mouth signaled some sort of greeting? Or attraction? Or even an invitation?
I’m imagining things, she thought, gritting her teeth as she began to circumnavigate the nude couple, her limbs trembling, her breathing ragged. She didn’t really know what she was looking for — some point of view that visually “resonated” in some way, she supposed. She stepped in closer, and closer again, and felt the heat between her legs rise with every step.
If she began a drawing from here, her drawing would certainly speak of conflict and desire, because that was how she felt, everywhere. But she had to make choices, and go forward. There were angles that presented her with more of a view of the male, and others that brought the lovely woman more into view. Did she want one more than the other, or both equally? She trembled afresh, hearing her question as one of sexual preference. No, no, I am not into women! I’m not!
She stepped in closer, and closer again, beginning to intrude into the models’ space. What would her drawing communicate if she set up right here, so close that she could reach out and touch either or both of them? An image suddenly flashed through Catherine’s mind, of the girl’s huge breasts descending to her waiting lips from above, the male model crouching between her spread thighs, his lips and tongue poised to taste her depths. The vision was so intense that she choked for a second, and began coughing. Ahhhh! Bad thought! Go away! But the memory lingered, creating a raging fire in her body, and it was all she could do to keep from screaming and melting. Oh God, oh God…
She stood absolutely still and made gibberish sounds in her head, creating mental static to drown out the crazy, horrible thoughts. Fuck, she’d never been like this before, never! She was so… so… She was struggling. Oh God, was she ever struggling.
She blinked her eyes to shove the mental images away, and stared at the floor, not the models. No, no, not the models. But it was already too late — she felt as though some sort of barrier had been pierced, a point of no return had been crossed where her body demanded release. She literally felt as though she would go insane without being brought to a thunderous orgasm.
No! I’m not like this, I’m not! But she was already backing up, already plotting the dozen steps that would take her to the studio door, beyond which she could run, run for her life, searching for a private place where she could strip out of her shorts and…
“Catherine? Are you all right?”
Oh God, oh no. It was Joel! She had reached the door and now he was with her, his erection down there, within reach…
“Joel, I… I…” She backed away, out the door, and oh fuck, he was following her, his eyes filled with concern.
“Do you need to sit down? You look all… Here, there’s a chair this way, why don’t you…”
Her right hand reached out without the rest of her even being aware of it for a second, like her hand was living a heartbeat ahead of her consciousness. It found the bulge in Joel’s pants, and grasped, and squeezed.
“Whoa!” Joel exclaimed. “Are you… Fuck, listen, if you’re expecting me to resist…”
She should be the one resisting. In fact, she was resisting, only it didn’t seem to make any difference.
“J…Joel,” she began, wanting to beg him to help her. Wanting to tell him to push her away, or refuse her advances. But her voice caught, and now her left hand was creeping up his chest, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. No, oh God, what was she doing? She wasn’t like this, she didn’t do things like this!
Joel took hold of her left wrist and looked into her eyes, and she could see that he was reading her to some degree, seeing her conflict, seeing how torn she was, so caught, so overwhelmed from within.
“You are so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. “So special, and…”
His words thrilled her. They chimed inside, and the hand touching his cock moved slightly, the fingers beginning to tease.
“Oh Christ, Catherine! You’re sexier than the model and you come to class wearing almost nothing, sending out signals like you want someone — maybe me — to throw you on the floor…”
“Oooohhh! N…no! I… I can’t… do this…” she whimpered, but her right hand was there betraying her words.
Joel, to his credit, did not force her either way. He gazed into her eyes, searching for the truth. He wanted her and he knew that he could never resist, not if she really wanted this. But if she wasn’t going to go through with it, if she was just having some sort of episode, or teasing him, or playing a game…
She couldn’t seem to make her mouth work, and so she tried to communicate silently, widening her eyes, pleading with him to help her, asking him to protect her from her own runaway desires. She tried to awaken the sense of herself that would never even contemplate something like this, and it was there but somehow disabled, or far away. I can’t do this, she repeated to herself. I’m not allowed to do this and I can’t, and I shouldn’t, and I mustn’t! I would never cheat on Charles, and especially not like this, careening out of control like a driverless car! But in her mind she could see her lips wrapping around Joel’s hard thing, licking him with her tongue while her hands…
“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Joel whispered. “You saw me yesterday, with the model. Do you want the same thing? Do you want…”
“No! I mean… No! Oh God, help me…”
“Look… I’m going back into that classroom,” he said, his face flushed, his expression torn. “I’ll come back to check on you in two minutes. Two minutes,” he repeated. “If you’re still here, waiting for me…” His eyes dropped down to her breasts and her rock-solid nipples, so apparent under her skimpy blouse. He licked his lips, perhaps unconsciously.
He turned away and somehow she found the wherewithal to run to the elevator, and punch the button to go down. She had to get out of here and go down, or else she’d be going down on Joel, she knew it. He was a prince for walking away, for giving her a chance to collect herself. She wanted to thank him, but somehow she knew that she would thank him by blowing him, or welcoming his hard cock into her drenched slit, and oh God, oh God…
She zipped open her shorts and fingered herself on the elevator ride down, so out of control, so overheated. “This isn’t me!” she raged at the elevator ceiling. But it must be her, because her fingers were right there, playing with herself, becoming wet and sticky and taking her so close to the edge.
At the first floor she ran out onto the sidewalk, the winds whipping at her exposed flesh, instantly chilling the sweat that seemed to be everywhere. She needed to be fucked, oh God she needed to be fucked! But she couldn’t go there, she couldn’t cheat on Charles! But what if somebody raped her? She could have a hard cock force its way into her, through no fault of her own…
“Aaaahhh! Oh God, what am I thinking?” she cried into the fierce winds. That was worse than a bad thought, only crazy people invited violence into their lives! She had to get a grip, she had to get a grip! She turned right and hurried east towards Seventh Avenue, embracing the icy winds as a rapist might embrace a good kick in the balls, as a way to redirect primal sexual urges into an even stronger drive for self-preservation.
For a second or two she considered turning around. She needed to retrieve her coat, and her drawing supplies, and oh fuck! — she’d left the bag with her sexy lingerie somewhere at the back of the room! She imagined Pierce finding her things after class, lifting the bodystocking out of the bag, his hands caressing the thin filaments, imagining how perfectly her body would fill out the outfit…
“Oh!” she cried out, stumbling. And what if he discovered the wrist restraints? Would he imagine that she wanted to be tied-up, that she fantasized about being unable to escape as a lover subjected her to excruciating pleasures?
“Oh!” Oh God, she was too out of control to go back there! She couldn’t be around Joel, or the two models, or Pierce. Any or all of whom she felt like she could fuck at the drop of a hat.
But she had to go somewhere. The light was fading, with heavy clouds squeezing down on the tops of the city’s towers and spires. The scent of impending snow filled the air. She kept walking, not knowing where she was going or what she would do next. Go home, she should go home. But she couldn’t. Giuseppe would be there, and what would she be driven to do to him? My God, she thought, I can’t even return to my building without fear that I might try to seduce somebody! But then where should she go, and what…
Wait. She did know what she should do. She would walk into the first good clothing store she saw, and buy some weather-appropriate garments, and especially a warm coat. None of her favorite shops were in this area, but everything would work out as long as she kept going forward, she was sure of it.
Dressed in dark tights and a knee length wool skirt, with a white button-up blouse and, most importantly, a long wool coat, she faced the weather again, uncertain of her direction. It had begun to snow, tiny flakes blowing sideways, glinting pinkish orange from the streetlights above.
Maybe she should catch a train to Philadelphia ahead of schedule, and make Charles spend a whole day in bed with her. She needed to be fucked, that seemed to be the one thing that she could be certain of. And she would feel safe there. Perhaps the wild energy and the crazy thoughts would subside once she and Charles spent some time being intimate with each other again, solidifying their tryst... fuck, trust, in each other.
Yes, that sounded like a plan. Except that she would miss tomorrow’s drawing class. A fierce gust of wind whipped at her face and she hunched forward, digging her hands deep into her coat pockets. Well, maybe she should never go back to the drawing class anyway. Only that would be like running away, the exact opposite of moving forward. And she desperately felt like she should keep moving forward.
Her fingers touched the cool surface of the cell phone in her pocket, and it gave her an idea. She ducked into the lobby of a bank to get out of the wind and snow, and turned the phone on. If she called Charles and told him that she was coming early, and that she desperately wanted to spend some alone time with him, some very alone time… She hit his number on speed dial, and put the phone to her ear.
“Editing, this is Amy.”
Editing? Amy? Damn, she must have punched William Lafort’s number by mistake! Amy was his personal assistant at the magazine, and… Oh fuck. “Uh… Amy! Hi, this is Catherine.”
“Catherine! Hey, how are you?”
“Good, good.”
“William will be so glad to hear from you. Hold on one sec and let me see if I can get him.”
She should hang up, only she couldn’t now. Fuck! How had she dialed an old semi-flame’s number instead of her fiancé’s? She had intended to call Charles, not the rival who had wanted to steal her away from him. Couldn’t she get anything right today?
William came on the line, and they chatted for a minute with all the awkwardness of actual ex-lovers. And when he asked straight-out why she had called, she had no answer. Except that, in a strange way, she did.
“William… I feel that I should apologize to you. There, at the end… I didn’t treat you very well and it’s… It bothers me.”
“Yeah, well. One of those unfortunate things, huh? I wanted you and you decided to marry that rich idiot — I mean, Charles. I don’t think we were supposed to be at our best at a moment like that. Either one of us.”
“I know, but… Listen, I’m feeling sort of, um, troubled.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s sort of, um, hard to explain. I think I’m… I don’t know, changing somehow. I can hardly keep up with myself, and you… I always felt like I could trust you, William.”
“Ha!” he laughed. “You could trust me to have one thing on my mind after we went out that first time. I’m not proud of it, but…”
“There, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. I can trust you to be truthful with me. I… I could really use a dose of the truth, William. It’s like I’m craving it right now. Everything seems all… strange, all of a sudden. I think I need help.”
A long pause followed before he answered. “Listen, I’m not quite getting what you’re talking about, and I don’t know if I can play this role for you, Catherine. I’m not… I don’t know if you really should be so confident about my objectivity, not where you’re concerned. There’s a reason I haven’t called you since you left the magazine.”
“Please,” she whispered into the phone.
“I think I’d regret it.”
“Please, William. You won’t regret it. I… I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“That was always the problem.”
“Okay then, I’ll be on my worst behavior. Come on, William — just meet me for a drink or something.”
Another long silence. “Women!” he exclaimed. “They get you breathing hard and then what can you do?” He laughed. “Okay, okay. I was just about to leave the office. I know a nice little place down the block where you can apologize or… whatever.”
It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. She sat at a corner booth in the quiet upscale bar he had suggested, waiting, her body shivering. She ordered a glass of Pinot Noir and immediately gulped half of it down. This shouldn’t even be happening. She hadn’t intended to call William in the first place. And moments after ending their conversation, she tried to call back, to cancel the meeting… But she couldn’t do it somehow, as though her will didn’t quite reach all the way to her fingers. As though once she had started something, she couldn’t stop.
I can stop this, she thought. I can just walk out of that door before he arrives. In fact, I will, right now, while there’s still the chance. But she made no motion to move. In fact, ever since entering the bar her actions seemed geared for seduction, as though she had been serious about being on her worst behavior. Choosing the most private table, checking her lipstick, unbuttoning an extra button on her blouse to expose some cleavage… In a strange way, she didn’t feel as though she was doing these things, even as she did them. Like a part of her mind had its own independent will. Even the way she had called William, without intending to… She hadn’t called him so she could seduce him, had she? She wasn’t looking at him as a secure port in the middle of her cunt-storm, was she? No, that was silly. She was reaching out for help, not trying to create more chaos.
But there in her mind, she could almost see, and almost feel, William’s hard thing slipping inside of her crack, beginning a steady in/out rhythm… A shiver of heated anticipation rolled through her body, resonating deep inside. Her hands shook and the deep red wine in her glass sloshed up the sides, clinging there, then slowly sliding down. She was just like that, in a way. Constantly dripping, and trying to cling to sanity as she felt herself being pulled down, sliding into some crazy zone of wetness.
She stared at the glass, and somehow it made her ache to see it only partially filled. She took another sip but the aching just became worse, as though the draining of the liquid in the glass created a reciprocal flowing between her legs. She closed her eyes, trying to hold on as the aching became an excruciating feeling of emptiness, a sort of craving that she could feel in every part of her body. Oh God, oh my God…
Upon opening her eyes, her reflection peered back from the wine’s ruby red tones, the color making her look a bit devilish. But I’m still me, she countered. There were no real changes in her appearance, no horns growing out of her head. Still, it felt as though the fires of hell were burning deep inside of her vagina, and she felt decidedly wicked for arranging this meeting with William, even if she hadn’t meant to.
She stood to give him a little hug when he arrived, and the touch was electric. He was a handsome man, younger and a little leaner than Charles, with a boyish face and a thick mop of dark hair that might have intentions of going prematurely gray. A man and a boy, she thought, all there mixed together.
He drank in her beauty for a few seconds after sitting across from her, his eyes lingering on her breasts. He’d noticed her new bra, and the cleavage she’d uncovered for his benefit. His hands began to fidget and he focused on the table, then the little votive candle beside the napkin dispenser, and the surroundings beyond her shoulders. Anything but her.
“You look trapped,” she began.
“More like scared shitless.”
“I’m not going to bite your head off, William,” she said, not at all believing herself.
“Too bad,” he countered, risking another glance at her tits. “If we were spiders, it might mean that I got lucky.” He motioned to their waitress, and said, “We’ll take a bottle of what she’s having.”
“A bottle? You’re trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe. Or trying to anesthetize myself. Maybe… Look, I’ll be blunt. What the hell am I doing here?”
“How refreshing! I need that bluntness, William. I need your honesty, total truthfulness.”
“Okayyyy.”
“I’m serious. I’m all… crazy these days, and I really need you to… to…”
“To what?”
An image flashed in her head, of his cock poised before her lips. She gazed at the large purple head in her mind and felt saliva pool inside her mouth.
“Catherine?”
His cock was larger than Charles’. Her tongue reached out for it, the first swipe tentative, exploring. The taste of his flesh made her cry out, a little whimper of searing delight firing all through her body…
“Catherine? Hello? Are you okay?”
“Um… Ohhh! What were we talking about?”
“Why am I here?”
Oh God she needed to taste him.
“N…no!”
“No, what?” he asked.
“N…no means no… I mean, yes. I… I’m not sure…”
“I’m just asking why you called after all this time. You have to know.”
Yes, of course she should know. It was the kind of question that should have an easy answer, but no answers came easily any more, not when her skin went all tingly every time William’s gaze took in some small portion of her body, even if it was something as innocent as his eyes lighting upon her hand as she took hold of her wine glass. Not when her pussy felt like it was growing deeper inside, creating an aching hollowness that was dying to be filled. Not when she could envision him thrusting in and out, her hips grinding against his, her strong legs wrapped around his back, drawing him in tighter, and deeper… Maybe even touching places that had never been touched before.
“Oh God!”
“Oh God, what? Catherine! Why did you call me?”
To draw him inside, her body’s natural talents unfolding all around him, heated energy permeating every crack and crevice, every pore…
“No! No, I… Look, I dialed your number because that’s what happened, William. Honestly, it’s almost like… I don’t know. Everything is going all crazy! It’s like my fingers dialed your number, not me!
“That’s silly.”
“Maybe. But I… I’ve been feeling a lot of strange drives lately. Really strange drives.”
“What do you mean?”
The wine came and she almost lost it when the waitress poured a partial glass for him to taste. Oh God, fill it, please hurry and fill it!
“Oh God!”
“Oh God, what?” he asked again. “What’s the hell is the matter with you?”
What was the matter with her? The feeling of hollowness between her legs kept growing worse, like she could almost swallow him whole.
“William! William, I… I need help. I think I’m having some sort of awakening.”
“Awakening? I don’t get it. You mean like… the Dalai Lama or something? Nirvana?”
She laughed, a little hysterically. “No, no, God, I wish! It’s more like… Oh, this is so hard!”
Hard, hardness, so very hard… She loved hard things.
“You called me, remember? What kind of awakening?”
“A sexual awakening. I think I’m having some sort of sexual awakening.”
“Whoa! Ah, okay. And by that you mean…”
By that she meant that her pussy was almost on fire down below. Her nipples were screaming inside of her new bra and she felt an urge to crawl under the table, to taste the vintage of the cock that she knew she could make hard with just a few targeted words, or the right sort of look in her eyes.
“Catherine? Your ‘sexual awakening’?”
She needed the truth. She should speak the truth, even though it was so hard…
“I… I think about sex all the time. All the time. And I want it. So badly. I get these urges and it’s all… It’s extreme, William. Like my body is coming alive all of a sudden, in ways I never could have dreamed of. I… I can barely hold on!”
Her words got to him, she could see it as though she could measure his vital signs right through his clothing and skin. He drank down all of the wine in his glass and stared at the bottle, but made no motion for a refill.
“I’ll have to congratulate Charles the next time I see him,” he finally muttered. “Fuck, Catherine… How could you think that I could have this conversation with you?”
She felt his pain, felt the weight of it in the air. Felt the raw, naked truth of it. Of his desire, which he didn’t want to have. Of his feelings, which he would rather not feel. Unless the desire and the feelings drew him forward, to somewhere. Unless what he felt could slip between the cracks in the walls she had erected. She bit her lip, something about that thought almost making her cry out. William was losing control over there just like she was losing control. His eyes went back to her hand, and she looked down, and discovered that her fingers were slowly stroking up and down the stem of her wine glass. Teasing it. Oh God she loved to tease things, even though it was wicked, and wrong…
“Charles doesn’t know about any of this, William,” she blurted.
“What?”
She had to stop. And she could stop, if she could just gather her will somehow. But the hand-action on her wine glass was becoming more active, and even more suggestive.
“Anything I say here, or anything I… confess… or do… It doesn’t concern Charles.”
“How can that be true?”
She gave no answer. She had to stop this! She could see where this was headed and she had to stop! Why couldn’t she stop?
“I don’t get it, Catherine. Are you telling me… Are you having an affair?”
Her lips wanted to answer “no”, but was that true? When, exactly, did runaway thoughts and desires cross the line from innocent fantasy to actual betrayal? She was caught, squeezed between “yes” and “no”, and she felt like she might explode from the pressure.
“Ohhh, Goddd…” she breathed.
“Catherine? Are you okay? Do you want to…”
“No, I’m not okay! I… can’t even go home tonight, William, not until after ten. Why do you think that is?”
“I wouldn’t have a clue.”
“It’s because my doorman thinks that I’m dying to have sex with him!”
“And… why would he think something like that?”
“Because… It’s because I gave him good reason to think that way. I… yesterday… in the elevator, and in front of my door… Oh, God, it makes me feel all… Don’t make me describe the details!”
“I’m not making you do anything. But… you, um… did you…?”
“No, but I want to! I came close enough, and I’m almost certain that I’ll go a lot further if I go home too early tonight. It’s like… Oh God, it’s like I want it so badly that I won’t be able to stop myself! Like I barely have a choice!”
“But… your doorman? What is he? Casanova in striped pants and a little hat? A hypnotist?”
“No, no, you don’t get it! There are others, too! Others that I want to… Oh God, and I really want to!”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“You’re shocked. You always thought I was repressed, sexually.”
“I never said that.”
“You lived that, that one night up in your apartment.”
“Well… Fuck. I knew you were already in a relationship. Much as I wished I could make you melt and forget that ugly stiff… I mean Charles…”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped things that night, William.”
“Oh fuck, don’t even say that, Catherine. That isn’t fair.”
“I teased you.”
“Like I said, I knew you were in a relationship. I shouldn’t have…”
“I think I liked teasing you. I think it got me hot.”
“Whoa, stop. This isn’t…”
“I knew full well the state you were in when I left that night. And that last time we met, at the coffee shop… It excited me to see you getting hard for me, even though I was torturing you. I… I wanted to create an image that you’d remember… when you masturbate…”
“Catherine! That’s…”
“You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” she asked without hesitation, shocking herself.
“Time out!”, William replied, his eyes frantic, his mouth twisting.
Oh God, it was happening again, like a spark igniting, with no way to escape… Like everything she could possibly control was falling apart, and coming together in a new configuration, with blazing energy between her legs. She was on fire, and playing with fire, and on the verge of being consumed. It was so fucking exciting but she had to stop!
The hand that had been stroking her wine glass crept forward on the tabletop, reaching out. No! No! She tried to pull it back, but on it went, until it rested on the back of William’s right hand. She knew she couldn’t touch him. She needed to stop touching him, or there would be no turning back. Stop touching him! But her hand began to caress his flesh, the two hands in relationship, the spaces between their fingers interlocking.
“Catherine… Oh, Christ, you can’t do this to me! Not unless…”
If she had erupted with fire like this in William’s apartment back then, she never would have been able to leave. She would have needed to push forward, unable to stop, until he was inside of her, slipping in and out, in and out...
“William… Oh God… Take me to your apartment! Hurry!”
How much wine had she consumed in the bar? Events unfolded with a disorienting perspective, as though she was watching an intricately detailed movie of herself with the camera mounted behind her own eyes. The woman doing these things couldn’t be Catherine, because Catherine was not a woman who cheated on her fiancé. She was not a woman who flushed her morals down a drain, only to be led by the urges of her sex organs. And those couldn’t be her hands, roaming and clutching at William as they hurried down the sidewalk, flakes swirling in the gusty winds. And were the snowflakes really flying at her eyes, only to swerve away at the last second, as though afraid of her heat?
The heat was real — it burned between her legs and spread in all directions, quickening her heart, inflating her nipples, turning her pussy into an overflowing river. And the craving she felt, the ravenous emptiness that had her trembling and wishing for something, anything, to fill her… It must be happening and it must be her, but it couldn’t be! She’d do anything to satisfy this emptiness, this hollowness — anything — but she wasn’t like that! She just wasn’t!
How could her body be so out of control? Everything that she was doing was wrong, but it all felt so good, so fucking good and so irresistibly tempting. But she had to resist. She had to intervene, she simply couldn’t remain a passive witness to her own deplorable actions.
She decided to put her foot down at the entrance to William’s elevator. Much as it would hurt or anger him, she couldn’t go through with this, it was all a big mistake, a symptom of some larger stress disorder that she should seek professional help for. She opened her mouth to utter the words signaling retreat, only to feel her tongue reaching forward, beginning a fluid dance that began as a light tango and ended with her entire mouth desperately sucking William’s tongue deep inside, then releasing him, creating an in/out rhythm in her mouth that sent shivers all over her body.
Stop!, she cried from the strange witnessing position within herself. But instead of stopping, she wrapped herself all around William in the elevator, every inch of her body pushing for maximum contact.
“Oh, Catherine!” he exclaimed, his hands hiking her skirt up to squeeze her ass and thighs, two fingers probing between her legs to rub near the center of her gnawing emptiness. “Oh God, your body is soooo… You don’t know how many times I dreamed of this…”
She felt like she must be dreaming now, but she wasn’t. Yes, her body was soooo, it had always been soooo, and she was finally using it soooo well, pushing him back against the mirrored wall, grinding her molten pussy into his hardness, her hands roaming and stroking everywhere with a life of their own. A glimpse of her reflection revealed the utter wildness in her eyes. It was shocking — this was her, Catherine Tinnell, but not a Catherine she had ever seen before. This Catherine was untamable, her fucking gorgeous body driven by forces that could never be quelled by reason, or social codes.
Or conscience. Charles who? He wasn’t here, her body seemed to shout, and she fucking needed sex! Sex! Now!
And yet she kept trying to resist, some little piece of sanity struggling against the tide. She tried not to kick off her shoes at William’s door, and fought against the movement of her hands as she unclasped her skirt, pulling off her tights and panties. With the scent of her flowing cunt filling the air, William’s hands worked at the clasps at the back of her bra and she prayed for her body to stop thrusting into him, to stop giving him encouragement and permission. And when his hands cupped her aching breasts and found the stunning hardness of her nipples, she tried so hard to stop quivering, and flowing, and wanting, and needing. She tried so hard to say “no”, but his fingers rolled along her nipples and all that escaped her lips was a climax-like shudder of sound, something so primal and heated that she could see the vibrations enter William, further fueling his lust, driving him to a place where he might try to understand and meet her level of desperate need.
Their sex became frantic, a gasping, grasping, guttural intertwining of their bodies. She jumped onto her lover and wrapped her legs around his back, toppling them together onto the long leather sofa where they had timidly necked some five months before. Her hands ripped at his trousers and underwear, then pulled forcefully at William’s rock-solid cock, her tongue on his neck, her teeth nipping at his earlobes.
This couldn’t be happening, and it couldn’t feel like this! She was never this aggressive and his cock could not feel this good in her hands, it just couldn’t! She wrapped her palms around him, her fingers active and probing, feeling his solidness and his texture, absorbing his warmth. His cock pulsed from within, sending out signals that her hands seemed to understand. She felt that she knew just how to touch him with devastating effectiveness as she began to stroke his penis with her left hand, the fingers of her right playing at the tip, exerting little pleasure-tickles that made him suck in air. And that was just the warm-up, her fingers seemed to say. The left hand stroked harder while her fingertips gained speed, feathering William’s hot cock-head until he began to pant, and growl, overcome by her deft actions. How am I doing this?, she thought. The intelligence or empathy in her hands was completely foreign to her, and yet so natural and so clear.
How could everything feel new like this, and how had she come to be here to begin with? Her hands bypassed the question, clamping down on his shaft while intensifying the helmet-tickling even more. William cried out, his entire body shaking. The hands that had been playing with her tits slid down, and somehow he was able to retain enough focus to give back, making his fingertips slide along the wet folds of her labia, finally reaching a point of targeted encirclement, exciting her aching clitoris by not quite touching it. He teased and avoided and teased and kept avoiding and oh God, when would he ever hit it, he was so close, so fucking close, closer than close but not touching it and she thought she’d go insane!
In revenge she twisted the flesh of his dick, making him cry out, telling him that she needed him to push her button now! But he didn’t give in, he kept his fingers circling, and approaching, and detouring, making her hips grind and buck, making her entire body demand more, and more…
“Oh God! OH GOD!” she cried out at the top of her lungs. “Fucking fuck me, William! Fuck me! Fill me! Fuck me and fill me!”
NO!!! Why was she saying that? She had to stop this! She unscrambled her torso from his and threw the upper half of her body down onto the floor. Was she escaping? Could she pull the plug on this horrible mistake? But then, instead of crawling away or rushing to the door, her legs spread out wide, her ass rising high into the air.
“Do me, fill me, do me, FILL ME!” she screamed, feeling like she would die without his cock plunging deep into her pleading pulsing waiting pussy. An instant or two of William readjusting, fitting his body to hers, his hardness poised at the mouth of her sopping entrance…
He responded in-kind to her wildness, grabbing at her hair and pulling back as his thickness parted her lips, just slightly moving in.
“AaaahhhGodddd…” she moaned, pushing back, wanting to be filled, dying to feel him thrusting in and out.
“Not… so… fast…” he breathed.
Millimeter by millimeter he pushed forward. She felt her inner walls parting with excruciating slowness, every movement crystal clear, the liquid friction taking place in almost microscopic detail…
“Stop!” she screamed, loud enough that he did. “OhmyGod, OhmyGod…” Half of William’s cock was there pulsing inside of her, somehow she could tell that and it made her ache in a way that was too much to bear. And yet the feeling of being half filled created a need so intense that she clamped around him and held him there, drawing the moment out as long as she could stand it.
And then, without thought or will, she thrust her whole body back, impaling herself with William’s tool.
“Aaaaaahhhhhh!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. The tip of his cock hit some place inside that had never been touched before and everything exploded, the graphic details in her mind’s eye swept away by a flood that was everywhere all at once. She felt him thrusting with animal fury, pushing in and out, in and out, the rhythm driving her crazy, making her shake, the orgasmic chills washing through her body, taking her over the edge, yet somehow making her need even more and ohmyGod, ohmyGod…
William groaned and bucked behind her and she felt him cum, his warmth spurting into her and meeting her flow, and ohGod, ohGod, she had never been able to feel the action in her depths in this much detail, and it was coming, something even greater, some secondary surge was rising from so deep inside and pushing forward, coming, cominnnnggg…
She detonated, the orgasm booming in her depths while resonating in every miniscule part of her body. Screams were ripped out of her throat, the sounds mixing with the electric jolts in her fingertips and toes, behind her eyes, at the back of her neck, everywhere…
Muffled sounds. Some kind of swaying motion. Warmth against her back and under her thighs.
She was being carried, to William’s bedroom. He lay her on his wide bed and drew himself alongside, his front pressing into her back. Somehow she found the strength to roll over, and she stared into his eyes, using the brown pupils surrounded by white as anchors that might help lead her back to earth.
“I never would have guessed that you’d be such a screamer,” he whispered. “I love screamers.”
It was all there, the memory of it, and how it had felt. But she wasn’t a screamer, or hadn’t been. And she wasn’t a cheater, or hadn’t been. And the sex… How could sex feel like that? How could she have engaged in an activity for years without unraveling the raw, visceral truth of it? She felt like a blissfully deflowered virgin, like a confused and horny little child suddenly or magically thrust into womanhood. For so long she had been playing games that her mind erroneously called sex, while her body had secretly known all along that she had been accepting a weak, diluted substitute for an awesome truth.
“I’m sure it’s too soon to ask this, Catherine, but what just happened? And whatever it was, please tell me that it will happen again.”
“No.”
“No?”
Her left hand absently stroked his chest. And although she was still floating in the afterglow, a new itch called to her from between her legs. “No. It can’t happen again.”
“Oh.”
“I’m… I’m not like this, William. I don’t do things like this. Ever.”
Her hand traveled down, slipping over his hip bone, rubbing at his thigh.
“Right. So this was…”
“A horrible mistake.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake. And it didn’t feel even remotely horrible.”
Her fingertips traced little circles along the head of his flaccid penis, still wet with her. “It was a mistake, William.”
“I can’t believe that you believe that. You loved what just happened.”
“M…maybe. But I’m… I’m getting married in two months. I can’t…
“Not one word this evening, not one action, came from a woman who’s ready to settle down.”
He was beginning to grow fat and long again. “I know, but… Oh God, I can’t do this!”
“Then you really need to stop what you’re doing with your hand right now.”
He was right. But the circles became longer strokes, all up and down his growing length.
“Um… Catherine…”
He was getting so hard again, and his hardness made her fingers want to explore the change, feeling in detail how he grew at her touch.
“Caaatherine…”
She was not a woman who needed sex again, not right after having it. She and Charles had never done it twice. Never. And she couldn’t do it now, she had stumbled once and that was horrible, but not nearly as bad as doing it a second time.
“Oh fuck, Catherine… What are you…”
He was almost completely hard again, and hot, his cock growing in heat as it’s size increased in her hand. William’s cock was big, but it hadn’t filled her, not completely. There was more room, more territory inside that still needed to be touched. If she sat on top of him with her legs in a full split, would she be able to drive him in even deeper?
“No!” she cried out.
“No?”
She adjusted her body so that her other hand could join in, stroking him, getting him as big and hard as he could possibly be.
“I can’t do this!” she groaned, climbing on top of him, spreading her legs out wide. “I can’t fuck you, William! I can’t!”
“Ohhh,” he moaned, the tip of his tool grazing her wetness.
She leaned back, straightening her arms for support, wrapping him in wetness, drawing him in deep. She wasn’t doing this, she wasn’t, but it felt sooo good and she needed even more, and she needed it faster, and deeper, even though it couldn’t be happening. No! No! Oh God, yes!
“C…Catherine…”
No, in, yes, out, no, in, yes, out…
She was on top of her lover in the canoe, moving her hips up and down while circling at the waist, feeling his cock being driven in and out, stretching her walls, slipping and sliding and… She felt her world shake inside and out, the boat rocking and dipping as it was thrust through a gush of rushing water. For the first time she became aware of her surroundings. The river had narrowed considerably and the relatively tranquil current had been replaced by turbulent chutes and eddies. Directly ahead lay two large boulders, with frothing white water channeling between.
Oh no!, she thought, seeing the danger, even as she kept fucking her lover. She had to keep fucking — she wouldn’t stop, she couldn’t stop — but unless she did something to help direct the canoe, she might smash into a rock, or overturn in the gathering current. Her eyes looked for a paddle as her hips rode up and down, but there was nothing, no way to steer.
Not true, a voice whispered in her mind. Trust your body, only your body can carry you forward. And it was possible, she found, to alter the canoe’s trajectory to some degree by leaning to one side or another as she fucked. The canoe was being drawn too far to the right, so she leaned left, and saw the bow turn just slightly. She rode her lover’s cock, left, further left, now right, oh God, right! Water sprayed inside the canoe, wetting her body as the canoe flew past a boulder the size of a minivan.
We made it!, she thought, only to see that the current was carrying her even faster, towards more boulders, with the sound of tumbling, cascading water growing louder, and louder…
Catherine awakened with a gasp, disoriented by her surroundings. An unfamiliar ceiling, the wrong furniture… Oh fuck! William lay on his back next to her, sound asleep. His upper thighs and abdomen were shiny and the smell of sex was everywhere.
What have I done, what have I done? She slinked off of the mattress, catlike, careful not to make a sound. It was eerily quiet outside, probably the effect of the snow, and she didn’t want to awaken him. He would want her to stay, or want to cuddle, or talk romantically or even discuss why any of this was happening in the first place.
And she had no answers. None. There was nothing to say, no way to undo any of this other than to get the hell away from here and deal with the ramifications in the light of day.
She saw 11:46 illuminated in cold blue on William’s dresser. Almost midnight. It would be safe to go home, Giuseppe’s shift had ended some time ago. Some time while she had been fucking William, or sleeping after their second go-around. Twice — she had betrayed Charles twice, and it felt even better the second time. God, how could wrongful sex feel so good? She was such a whore.
So where were this whore’s clothes? The living room, she remembered almost ripping her clothes from her body the second she arrived here. She tiptoed towards the bedroom door, and was halfway into the next room when she stopped, and turned around.
11:47, the bedroom clock glowed. William looked so oblivious lying there, his hair all out of place, his lips half-puckered in sleep. Thin pink stripes crossed his legs, the city lights easing in through the blinds of a tall window. The area around his flaccid cock receded into darkness, and somehow her eyes were drawn there, as though not quite being able to see something sharpened her interest.
He really did have a beautiful cock. She had only made love with three men in her life — well, four now — and she could barely remember what the equipment on her first two lovers had been like. She had always thought of Charles’ thing as “safe”, not too big, not too scary, not too much of a bother. William’s cock was anything but safe, and she had been so busy cramming it inside of her gushing vagina that she’d never gotten a good long look at it. How big was it, really? And how much of it would she be able to fit in her mouth if she were to…
No, fuck! She felt her heart beating fast beneath her breasts and her lips were trembling. The numbers on the clock changed to 11:48 in her peripheral vision and she felt a stab of fear, or… or…
She didn’t know what, she just knew that she had to get out of there, before she did something else that was crazy. But she should at least kiss him good-by, an inner voice seemed to say. Kiss him good-by? No, it might awaken him. She just needed to leave. Right now.
Kiss his dick good-by, the voice insisted. It’s been good to you tonight.
She stared across the room, wishing that she could see William’s cock more clearly before she left. It must be covered with her fluids, practically saturated with her essences. She could at least clean him up a bit before she left, tonguing her stickiness off of him…
What? No! Oh God, what was she thinking? Her heartbeat had become a gazelle threatening to jump through her skin and she nearly screamed out loud as the numbers on the clock changed once again.
She needed to taste him before she left. She had to taste him soon, before it was too late! Too late for what?, her mind demanded. No answer, only her footsteps carrying her in the wrong direction, back to the bed, with her vision affixed to William’s soft thing. It needed to become a hard thing, a very hard thing and there wasn’t much time, she had to hurry!
She crawled onto the bed on all fours, literally salivating. She felt like she was living some kind of countdown — this had to be a dream, she must still be dreaming. She leaned down to study William’s dick in detail in the dim light, noting its texture and the little veins that helped to inflate it into hardness. She could count every one of his pubic hairs. No dream had that kind of clarity.
She had to be awake, but then why would her hands be reaching out to cradle William’s cock, and why was she lowering her head so that she could swirl her tongue around the tip, tasting herself on him, the flavor making her ache, and want, and need to start licking more vigorously?
William moaned lightly in his sleep. Maybe he was dreaming, dreaming of her lips sliding around him, saliva pooling inside her mouth, making him all hot and wet just like she was so hot and wet, so needy, so ready…
“Mmmmmnnnn!” she moaned, aghast at what she was doing. She tried to pull her mouth away, to stop her tongue from wiggling so fast… Oh fuck, she couldn’t stop herself, she was beginning to suck him off and she couldn’t fucking stop!
Her eyes cast a sideways glance and she saw 11: 52 showing on the dresser. Oh God, she had to hurry! He was getting stiff but not stiff enough, she had to suck faster, swirling more saliva all around, clamping tighter with her lips and pulling back, urging him into growing fatter and longer in her mouth. And it was working, oh God yes, it was working!
“Ooohhh,” she heard from up past her head. “Ohhhh!”
She only did this every now and then with Charles, and only to make him happy, because she didn’t like it. She did not like to suck cock, it was a hard job, and what if she miscalculated, and got cum in her mouth? Repeat: she did not like to suck cock, and she had every reason to stop sucking this cock, and dammit, she absolutely had to stop sucking this cock! This couldn’t be happening, she didn’t even know how to suck a cock like this, with her tongue all agile and her lips knowing just how to stroke up and down, up and down, changing the pressure of the stimulation, urging him to grow, his expanding length beginning to touch parts of her mouth that she had never allowed a man’s hard dick to touch before.
“What… What, ohhh… Catherine! Oh my God, Catherine…”
His cock bumped the back of her mouth and she almost came, it excited her so much. Why had she never drawn a cock so far in, back here where its presence resonated in her pussy like this?
William’s legs shifted, and she felt his hands running through her hair, giving encouragement, urging her on. He was totally hard and awake now, hissing and moaning. He loved what she was doing but he had already cum twice tonight, she had to do this right, and suck him harder, and faster, suck and bob and swirl and twist and oh yes, oh God, yes, she was so wet again, so close to the edge, and her right hand was there between her legs, stroking, following the rhythm as she sucked.
“Oh Catherine! Jesus, you’re… you’re… so good…”
No, she was bad, she was awful, she was sucking the cock of a man who was not her fiancé and she was loving it. But yes, she was good, so good at giving head, as though she had always known how while pretending for years that she didn’t.
She could feel the clock’s presence, feel the passage of time, knowing that she had to hurry. Cock, clock, cock, clock... She adjusted her position, attacking William’s hardness from a higher angle, bobbing up and down from her waist, putting her whole body into the stimulation, drawing him even deeper into her mouth, sucking him ferociously, sucking him ravenously, swirling so much fluid and bathing him so that he would hurry and explode, so she could taste him. In, out, in, out, in, out…
“Oh Catherine! Ohhh Caaatherine! Oh yes, oh yes, I’m going to… oh God, I’m going to… I’m… ready…
She felt him swell against her lips, felt the surge within him before it poured out, his warmth blasting at the back of her mouth, setting her tastebuds on fire… The shock was almost unbearable. William’s cum washed through her mouth like a heavenly flood while setting more hellish fires alight, every inch of her body reveling in the incredible taste.
Her vision seemed to widen at the same time, taking in the change of the numbers on the clock to midnight. Yes! something chimed, and then she felt it, felt it as a condensed point of pleasure at first, a tiny spot of even greater ecstasy that seemed to roll forward, growing in size and growing in proximity, bathing her flesh in liquid heat, making her cry out into the hot wet dick filling her mouth. She screamed, and screamed more, her beautiful body shaking, her special, special body wracked with a special, special orgasm, that kept rolling, and churning, on and on…