Chattooga River III:  On the Rock

H. Jekyll

(MF, rom, oral, mild sm)

*  *  *  *  *

To, and for, Maggie.

This is the third of three very short stories I wrote 
for Maggie McGee before she went rafting on the 
Chattooga, as lovely a river as you will find, in the 
summer of 2000.  

Copyright 2001 by H. Jekyll.  Permission is freely 
granted to post on any site that does not charge for 
entrance, as long as proper attribution is given to 
the author.  The story should not be read by anyone 
under the legal age to read sexually explicit 
stories, or by anyone in a location where it is 
illegal to read such stories.  

I appreciate comments and inquiries, even criticisms.  
Yes I do.  Most writers do.  Please send them to: 
h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com

My stories are archived in the Authors' section of 
the Alt Sex Stories Text Repository, at:  
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/h_jekyll/

*  *  *  *  *

It is a large, flat rock in the middle of the river, 
just above a rapid.  We pull the raft onto it, then 
lie down.  The rock is beautifully warm, and we 
spread ourselves like lizards.  Unlike lizards we are 
affectionate.  We touch each other, and kiss.  You 
keep squeezing my penis, you vixen.  We decide to get 
out of our clothes, to dry off, but each of us knows 
the real reason, and you grab my penis and pop it 
into your mouth as soon as it comes out of my shorts.  
Oh, woman!  I'd best do something to you now, before 
you get too started.

I wrestle you to the rock, lie on you and let you 
squirm, let you pretend to try to get away.  I ask, 
"Will you be good?" and you nod your head, enjoying 
the game.

I move down your body to your cunt.  I don't let 
loose of your hands during this, but hold them at 
your side.  Still holding, I wriggle my head between 
your legs, push up to your sex, up to your clitoris.  
I start lapping, like a cat, like a dog, using my 
tongue on you, getting you higher.  Your musk is 
strong at the beginning, even though you've just come 
from the river.  It gets stronger.  Your clit stands 
up, a little nubbin under my tongue.  Sweet lover, 
you know I love to hear you moan.

Now I move my mouth directly over your clitoris.  I 
know from your stories that you fantasize it being 
bitten, so I take your clit between my front teeth 
and hold it while I lick it.  You are moving beneath 
me.  Then I bite, and you make a hoarse, short shout, 
and hold yourself perfectly still.  Maggie the flesh 
statue.  Maggie who waits, who wonders and who wants 
to give no offense.  I lick some more, still biting 
lightly, then I gather myself and judge the force of 
my teeth and bite hard.

You scream, really scream, and you kick your legs 
out, but you rip your hands from mine and put them to 
my head to hold me to you.  You are pulling my hair 
so hard it hurts.  You are pulling me to you to keep 
from pushing me away, because you don't think you can 
take it but you don't want it to end yet.  

Shall I take the next step?  In for a penny.  I bite 
harder, and now you can't take it at all.  You shriek 
again, and you are pushing against my head and really 
trying to get away and talking:

"No Henry, no, please, no, stop, please, stop..."

I ease way back on the pressure, all but letting 
going of your clit, barely holding you in my teeth.  
Once again you stop moving.  There is only your 
ragged breathing, a sound like whimpering in the 
sharp in-breaths and quick out-breaths.  It is almost 
as though you are crying.  You hands are back on my 
head, and again you are moving your fingers through 
my hair, and I taste a tiny bit of blood.  

Very slowly now, I open my teeth completely, leaving 
only my lips and tongue.  Other than your breathing 
you don't move.  Just as slowly, and softly, I put my 
tongue back on you.  You jerk and make a little cry.  
Your clitoris is so sensitive after having been 
bitten.  I lick it again, then again, and lick it 
until your breathing changes again.  No ragged 
breathing from Maggie now, but something deep, and 
full, and passionate.  You move your sex against me 
and pull me up against you with your hands and soon 
you are at the doorway and then it comes over you, 
making you jerk and cry out to the river, which 
excites me more than I can remember.

You are nestled against me, my darling.  I haven't 
come yet.  I'm not worried, though;  my time's 
approaching.  You lick my nipples, look up to me with 
the most loving expression, and say, "Henry Jekyll, 
you are a dirty, rotten bastard."

"I know, love, I know."
