One of my favorite writers here on Literotica is Ohio. I find his characters incredibly interesting, and his situations fascinating. If you don’t know his works, please check them out. He has graciously given me permission to pick up some of the characters he created in his work The Surrogate (https://www.literotica.com/s/the-surrogate-2). I have tried to stay true to his setting and the characters as I see them. I’ve posted this in Romance because it is a love story. But there is plenty for the Loving Wives genre, and future chapters will dive into other categories as well.
A lot of what appears here is drawn from various aspects of real life, both mine and people I know. That said, this is a work of fiction, with all of the usual disclaimers that go with it.
Please enjoy –
Chapter I – Some Enchanted Evening
You know those moments that sometimes occur, where for no reason you can discern there is a sense of anticipation? As if something of import is going to happen? You don’t know how or why, but something meaningful is about to come into your life?
Well, Friday, December 7th, 2018 wasn’t one of those moments. In fact, quite the opposite. The temperature up here on the shores of Lake Erie had actually crept above freezing earlier, but was headed for the low twenties, and snow was falling at an ever-increasing pace.
I was fervently wishing I had said no to Natalie’s invite to be her plus one for the St. Dominick’s Hospital Christmas party, and the weather just reinforced that. While I handle cold well enough, and am a practitioner of the Wim Hof method, I am not a fan. I grew up in the American southwest, where tee shirts in January are not that unusual.
It was close to 7:00 when we got out of the limo she had booked. The gathering was just getting started when we walked through the front doors, across the lobby, and made our way to the party. The Hilton had set up the large banquet hall in a typical fashion for these things, but they had included a coat check-in counter to the right of the entrance. Natalie’s coat still had a light dusting of snow on the collar, so I shook it before handing it to the young man behind the counter. Natalie was halfway to the bar by the time I turned around, and the bartender had her martini in the shaker when I joined her. The bartender asked what I would like.
“Can you make a bourbon and blood?”
She thought for a moment as she finished pouring Natalie’s drink, then shook her head, saying, “Sorry, no. We don’t have any tarragon. But I make a mean whiskey Manhattan.”
“Rye or Canadian?”
“What’s your preference?”
I thought, “So there is a God,” and gave her my best business smile. “Rye, please.”
Once I had my drink, I moved to stand next to Natalie. She looked at me, and said, “Relax, Blofeld. Just try and blend in and be as charming as I know you can be. If you play your cards right, you just might get laid tonight. That’s my plan, anyway.”
I looked at her, taking in her scrumptious body poured into a classic LBD, and thought to myself, “In another life.” I said, “Natalie, you are going to kill it. You could raise the dead tonight. I on the other hand, look like a Bond villain in almost every way. All I need is the eye patch to complete the picture, so even if I am at my most charming, few will feel comfortable getting too close. It is what it is, and I’ve made my peace with it. You need to as well.”
“Jeez, even when you are in a good mood, you’re pissy. No wonder she…” she trailed off, realizing where the comment was going. I felt like a stone hand was gripping my heart and squeezing, and the pain of it must have registered on my face, because she looked like someone had kicked her puppy. She said, “Shit. I’m sorry, Jack. It just came out. I’m so very sorry.”
I smiled at her, but I’m sure the smile didn’t touch my eyes. “Natalie, it’s okay. And four years on, I’m over it.”
She looked at me intently. “Bullshit.”
The smile became real, but it was still a lame smile, and I shrugged. “Just a bit, but I’m good, okay? Go hunting. It appears to be a target rich environment.”
She kissed me on the cheek, and then headed out to mingle. She wasn’t wrong, though. I was born on the wrong side of the bed, and life has pretty much kept me waking up there. My brother Mike tells me that when I relax, I’m actually a pretty nice guy to be around. I keep telling him that I really don’t know how to relax socially, and seldom have.
I certainly wasn’t relaxed at the moment. Parties make me twitchy at best, even when I’m not specifically looking for potential trouble. Alcohol helps, though, and as long as I moderate my intake, it’s almost as good as meditation as a tool to keep me away from the edge. So, I took my drink and worked my way into a corner, put my mind in neutral, and just started watching people. It’s a neat trick that has come in handy in a lot of situations in my life, and it keeps me from getting bored. And so, I settled into observation mode, and my mind drifted as my eyes took in the room.
That lasted for about thirty seconds. It appeared as if Natalie wasn’t the only woman trolling tonight. After the third one approached and had a brief conversation, I concluded that the light wasn’t bright enough where I was standing, which is probably why they had come over. Once they were close though, I could feel them tense up a bit, and all three had quickly made excuses and left within a few minutes. The last, however, a spectacular looking woman who was probably a decade older than my forty-nine years and sporting a substantial wedding ring had looked back over her shoulder at me as she walked away, an invitation in her smile. I smiled back but had no intention of following that anywhere. Wedding rings are a deal-killer for me. Besides, I just wasn’t in the mood, and hadn’t been for almost three years.
My first wife, Gina Montoya, married me at nineteen, just after I finished my first few rounds of training in the Marines. We were divorced a few years later when I learned she was shacking up with her old boyfriend from high school while I was helping defend Kuwait for President George H. W.
I married again more than a decade later, this time to a midwestern girl from Ohio I met between tours while fighting Bush two’s war. Her name was Madeleine Maitland, ‘Maddy’ to her friends, and she was Natalie’s sister. There weren’t fireworks, but we enjoyed each other’s company, and eventually loved each other. I thought it was enough, but apparently it wasn’t. The sex was good, and there was plenty of it when I wasn’t deployed. She didn’t want children, but because of the surgical differences between her going under the knife and me, I was the one who got snipped, and truthfully, I was fine with that.
I had left the Corps and was working civil service when I discovered she was cheating on me with her big-dicked boss and that she was one of the party favors of choice at all of the firm’s get-togethers. Very long story short, I discovered this when she stumbled home one night after a business dinner.
She claimed to not be feeling well and walked, somewhat gingerly, up the stairs to the shower, and then into bed. When I came to bed two hours later, she was sound asleep, but her nightgown was up and the covers were down, and both her asshole and cunt were red, bruised, gaping open, and despite the shower, still leaking cum that wasn’t mine.
I decided I wanted more information before I burned the world down, so three weekends later, while I was supposedly out of town, I walked into a pool party where my wife and three of her work friends were entertaining thirty or so male co-workers and clients. I mean, unless you are into that kind of thing (I’m not), it’s disconcerting as hell to see your wife being filled out like an application by three guys who are stretching each hole to cartoonish dimensions. I really didn’t know a human jaw could open that wide.
They even shot some of their own video, the highlight of which was the girls each placing their wedding ring sets on a plate, where a number of big dicks poured cum all over them, orally coaxed out by the girls themselves. Then the girls, including my loving wife, each delivered an individual, heartfelt message of love and respect to their husbands while slurping cum from the plate. Finally, they scooped up the cum-covered rings into their mouths, sucked them clean, and then spit the rings out onto the ground like sunflower husks after extracting the seed.
That actually arrived on my phone from the firm’s primary e-mail account (what idiot thought that was a good idea?) as I was pulling up to the party. Later, Maddy retrieved her wedding ring, but to the best of my knowledge never got her engagement ring back.
I got angry, and I wanted to kill them all. Seriously, I actually had my MP7A2 cocked, locked, and loaded, with spare mags in my suit jacket and pants pockets when I came to my senses. Lucky for me, my hot-angry phase is usually very short-lived. Unlucky for them, it is always followed by a cold-angry phase that can last for a very, very long time.
So instead of life without parole, I got really good video and photographs, and sued the firm and the individuals involved into the dirt, got sixteen of them fired, and burned down thirteen marriages other than my own. I know, kind of an asshole thing to do, but as I said, I was angry. Nice goes on vacation when I’m angry.
My wife of course said all of the inane, stupid things cheaters say, particularly slut cheaters. She insisted that it hadn’t meant anything, and that she didn’t want a divorce. However, my mother, and a few other people I’ve admired over the years all had a similar saying that I’ve always taken to heart: Watch what they do, not what they say. Madelaine’s actions were clear and asking her where her engagement ring was usually shut her up.
There was a month to go before the divorce was final when she was diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer. To say I was conflicted would have been an understatement. But as I’ve said, being an asshole comes easy to me, and I do work hard at trying not to be one all the time, even when angry. So, I stopped the divorce and stayed with her for almost a year, through all of the treatments and sickness and sadness.
She would occasionally bring up what had happened and try and tell me how much she was sorry, and how it had never happened before that time, yaada yaada yaada. I listened and didn’t argue. I didn’t say much of anything. There was no point. I didn’t believe her, at least most of the time, and she knew it. But it didn’t matter. We both knew where we were headed.
Her sister Natalie and I got close during this period, at least as close as I let anyone get that isn’t my brother. She loved her sister, but hated what she had done, and she tried to be the voice of reason in the situation. Sometimes she would really piss me off, but she never backed down, and she never blamed me for any of it. I came to love and appreciate her. Sometimes I wished she was the one I had met and married.
At the end, I moved Maddy home into our bed, because why not. We had a nurse with us who took care of her medical needs and helped me with the other stuff. It was better for her, and that was better for me. We kept her doped up for the pain, but she had lucid periods.
During one of these, she told me that she didn’t want my forgiveness. She said that she didn’t deserve it, to which I agreed but didn’t say. The only thing she regretted about her life she said was what she had done to our marriage, and to me, and she felt the need to carry that shame with her into death.
I kissed her and told her I loved her, and that I forgave her anyway. She cried, more than she had after it had happened. She was skeleton-thin and weak, but we made love, gently and carefully, because she was insistent that she wanted to be mine one last time. Two weeks later, she was dead, and I can honestly say that the entire ordeal probably did more to fuck up my head than over twenty-five years of combat operations in some of the shittiest shitholes the world can offer.
My brother Mike said I needed to “cleanse my palate,” so, two months later he and I tore up Vegas for three weeks, and in a state of almost permanent inebriation I fucked myself into oblivion every day and night. And I was damn lucky because I wasn’t particularly safe or smart about any of it.
I violated every one of my own rules about not messing with married people. Hell, I violated pretty much every rule I had about almost everything. I know I skirted the Nevada age limits. I spent quite a few nights in swingers’ clubs. I was invited to crash a few bachelorette parties, and I know I spent at least four hours giving one bride-to-be a hell of a night she wouldn’t forget. I had my first, second, third, and last trans experiences, and even hit for the other team a few times. And, somehow, I ended up in a few amateur porn videos, although I’ve since gotten all of the copies I could find destroyed or scrubbed from the net, but you never know. Professionally, this was not a good thing. Luckily, I had moved into the private sector by then, and it didn’t ding my security clearance too badly. Still, not my finest hour.
I dated a few women after that in the following year, and slept with a couple of them, but I wasn’t all that interested, so I just stopped. For almost three years now, I have been keeping company with that wonderful toy known as the Fleshlight when I felt the need, which unfortunately is usually once or twice a day. Bless that company and the porn stars that license their private parts to it.
The truth is that the world had lost what color it had for me. There was nothing that brought me joy, not really. I moved forward. I got on with my life. I focused on work and a few hobbies, which provided my only distractions from the dismal, daily existence that was living.
And that was where I was when I found myself at the Christmas party, all to appease Natalie. Natalie was an administrator or some such for Cleveland’s teaching hospitals, and she worked in behavioral health. She had a very good friend named Marina, a therapist who worked with an associated clinic concentrated on sexual and relationship health, and she had been trying to set me up with Marina for over six months. She thought we would be a good fit somehow. I got the impression that her friend was ducking her invitations. I know that I had been.
This time, though, she’d caught me at a distracted moment, and I had agreed to come to the hospital’s big Christmas shindig. And now that I was here, I just tried to blend in while I pondered what I would do if Marina actually showed up.
And then, of course, she did.
I have never been a romantic. Sure, I enjoy a well-crafted rom com as much as the next guy, and I know when it’s appropriate to send flowers. I’m not completely clueless, particularly since I started reading women’s magazines (it’s a work thing; get over it).
But two things that I’ve never believed in is fate, and love at first sight. Sometimes, though, the universe forces us to challenge our beliefs.
I finished my drink, and decided I needed another, so I headed back to the bar. I had closed about a quarter of the distance when I saw her. She was turning away from the bar when our eyes met, and Thor’s hammer hit me right between said eyes.
I stumbled. Seriously, for a second my body forgot how to walk. I caught myself and kept walking, but it was all autonomics. My mind and eyes were riveted to the gaze that held them.
Maybe it was the electricity that comes with Mjölnir, to keep the analogy alive, but I felt as if an electric charge was running down my spine, then blasting every cell in my body with potential. I tingled as every hair follicle on my body responded and shifted, raising the hairs slightly in response to the very real charge that was moving through me. My heart rate must have jumped by fifteen or twenty beats per minute, and my mind was mush. All I could think was “Wow!”
She seemed to be feeling something as well, for she had frozen in place, and her eyes had not left mine. Finally, as if by some mutually agreed-upon prompt, we both looked away. I slowed my approach, if only to give myself a few more moments to compose myself, and I noticed that she wasn’t moving away from the bar either. We both seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at the other, but I caught her glancing at me several times, as I did the same to her.
I was both amazed and a little embarrassed with my reaction. I mean, I’m forty-nine, not sixteen. What the fuck was happening?
Trying to understand what I was feeling, I did a quick assessment of her, attempting to be as objective as possible. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties and was maybe five-five, but she looked taller, probably because of her heels and her dancer’s posture. Her skin tone was what I would call light olive, and much like myself, she probably had a relative in the recent woodpile that was either Mediterranean, Southwest Asian, Hispanic, or any combination thereof.
She had an oval face that ended in an angular jaw which sharply angled down to a small, rounded chin. Her wide-set eyes appeared to be light green from this distance. And oh, those eyes. There was power in them. Every time our gazes met, there was more electricity.
Her cheek bones weren’t overly pronounced until she smiled, then they were well defined, and for all of the hard sharpness of her jaw, her face gave an impression of softness. Her nose was long and gently roman, with just the slightest curve at the center before falling straight down to a rounded tip. The bridge of the nose was wide, and the nostrils were long, but narrow and did not spread wide from the base of the nose. Her lips weren’t overly full or particularly thin, but something about them enchanted me, and they appeared the most kissable lips I could remember seeing outside of a movie screen or magazine cover and remained so even when they stretched wide with her dazzling smile.
Her hair was very dark, probably a brunette, although in the dim light of the room it looked raven black and it fell in lustrous waves down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She was shapely, but not bombshell-brick-house shapely. Her breasts looked to be somewhere in the large B or small C range, but push-ups or padding make that tough to judge. Her waist wasn’t terribly narrow, and her hips and shoulders weren’t overly wide, but her hips were rounded and flowed down into muscular thighs and held what looked to be a tight heart-shaped bubble ass that filled the emerald-green gown she was wearing to perfection. She had a slight, soft bulge at her lower belly that every woman I had lusted over in my childhood possessed, and a round firmness to her toned body that showed me she exercised a lot, but wasn’t a fanatic about it like…well, like I was. Overall, then, she was lovely, but objectively, she was hardly the most beautiful woman in the room.
Yet, there was something primal about my reaction to her. She was real, and exciting, and I could feel her in my core. This was visceral, and I felt more alive than I had in years. And honestly, she WAS beautiful. The whole was definitely greater than the sum of the parts.
As I approached, she gave up the pretense of looking away and just watched me, her lips in a slight smile. I knew what she was seeing. I was 6’1″, and I try to keep centered around 180 pounds, although I tend to creep up a little in the fall, and drop it again in the spring, so I was probably in the 185 to 190 range at the moment.
As I said, I was from Mediterranean stock. My father was of Greek and Spanish extraction, with my grandfather growing up in Ithaca, and my grandmother being from Almería, in Spain. My mother was third generation Italian. I was definitely what they call ‘swarthy’, and Maddy always said that I was the darkest white man she’d ever seen.
My body has been the core of my career for a long time, and so I spend at least three hours of every day working on keeping the machine in the best working order it can be in. Considering the hardships and damage I’ve put my body through over the years, it’s in great shape, and I needed to keep it that way. I’d like to say I’m not fanatical about it, but that’s not true. My preferred body fat percentage is 8% to 10%, although again, I’m probably sitting a little higher at the moment.
As for my visage, I’ve never been accused of being handsome, and that was before a lifetime of weathering and scaring. The most prominent scar on my face is a deep gash across my left eye from high forehead to just below the cheekbone. I know, it sounds cool and sexy to describe it, but the reality is I was lucky as hell that I didn’t lose the eye, the scar is ugly as sin, and it creates real problems for me professionally, and to a certain extent personally.
As for the rest, craggy is a descriptor often used to describe my face, and there are other, smaller scars scattered across it that only add to the mess. I don’t wear facial hair, although I do tend to sport a five o’clock shadow towards the end of the day, and sometimes I let it grow as a “look” for a day or two. I think it’s pretentious as hell, but my EA Cassandra tells me it softens my face, and that it’s always an improvement on my being clean-shaven. Like I said, craggy.
My hair is salt-and-pepper black, with more emphasis on the salt every year. So far though my hairline isn’t receding nearly as fast as my father’s did, and I wear it short; not high-and-tight like I did in the Corps, but it would pass muster for most military services.
My eyes are so dark they are almost black, and I tend to wear colors that match. Tonight, I was in a black suit, a plain white shirt, and a deep maroon tie.
And so, she watched me, as I did her as I walked right up to her. I stopped a few feet away, probably a little closer than social conventions would have suggested, but I didn’t care. She held me, trapped in her gaze, and I saw that her eyes were hazel, with a dark halo and an emphasis on the green. After a few moments, it dawned on me that the staring thing had gone on way too long, and we were well into awkward moment territory.
I think that registered with her too, because when I said, “Hi”, she spoke at the same time, saying “Hello.”
I laughed, and she smiled and…was that a little coloring of her cheeks? I said, “Let me, please. Hello, my name is Jack. Jack Karas.” I held out my hand.
She politely shook it, saying, “Marina Sultis.”
I had two thoughts. The first was that her voice was a little dry and naturally husky, and I had flashbacks to my adolescence and my crush on Kathleen Turner. I still think ‘Body Heat’ is one of the hottest mainstream films ever made.
My second thought was that I knew that name. It took me a moment, but then I said, with no small amount of disbelief, “You’re Natalie Maitland’s friend, right?”
She seemed puzzled for a moment, but then I saw the lightbulb go off, and I’m sure she was struck by the impossibility of the moment as well. She said, “You’re him! You’re that Jack!”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure what that means, but yes, I am Natalie’s brother-in-law…former. Former brother-in-law.”
Marina must have known some of that story, at least enough to ignore the awkwardness of my response. She said, “Well, she didn’t tell me you were going to be here, but I should have known. She also didn’t tell me you were so good looking.”
I barked a laugh. “Thank you, but I’m sure it slipped her mind because I’m not, and she’s nothing if not brutally honest, at least with me. About you, however, she hasn’t shut up, singing your praises, and I can see now that she didn’t do you justice.
“And while I know she’s been trying to get us together, I find it interesting that… this…just happened. A little like the twilight zone. I think I need a drink.”
She laughed at that with me, and I said, “Bartender, another rye whiskey Manhattan, please.” I turned toward Marina and asked, “For you?”
She paused as if considering something, and I noticed that she looked a little flushed. Then she knocked her wine back, finishing it in one large gulp, and asked for another one.
Once she had it, I asked her, “Would you care to find a table and talk for a bit?”
She smiled at me warmly and suddenly there was a cute bubbliness that showed up in that smile. She nodded and said, “Someplace off to the side would be nice.”
I let her lead the way, and as I watched her hips sway in that emerald-green dress, I knew I was in trouble. I was smitten, as they say.
We found a table and sat and talked. She was 39 but to me she really didn’t look a day over 30, divorced for about eight years, and while she had kept her ex-husband’s Hungarian name, her people were Italian in extraction. Her life pretty much consisted of work, teaching a Pilates class, hitting the weight room, taking yoga, and tai chi. She liked to read, and she didn’t date much.
Professionally she was impressive, holding both an M.D. in psychiatry and a Ph.D. in clinical psychology, was a Sexologist and a Certified and Licensed Sexual Therapist. She was passionate about her field, and it showed when I made the connection between what she did and sexual trauma, which was something she was passionate about, and which I had a bit of experience with. About one-third of her practice was in working with victims of sexual trauma and abuse. Her eyes, which I quickly realized were extremely expressive, would take on an almost protective gleam when she discussed it, like a mother bear guarding cubs.
I followed along with most of the discussion, feeding it where necessary, but I was mostly just wrapped up in the experience of the moment. And it was then that I realized the world seemed brighter, somehow, and I thought, “What the fuck is happening?”
We were both closing in on empty drinks when she finally said, “I’m sorry. I’ve been gabbing about me and my job for what seems like forever. Tell me about you.”
“Oh. Not much to tell. I’m honestly not all that interesting.”
“Oh, that can’t be true. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of scream ‘interesting’, and I’d add intriguing and exciting to that as well.”
I felt myself actually blush a little, and I can’t remember the last time that happened. “Well, I will accept that as a compliment. To be honest, I’m not used to talking about myself. But I will give you the Cliff Notes version.”
She giggled, and said, “Cliff Notes? What’s that?”
“You’re kidding right?”
Her giggle became a laugh. “A little uptight, though. She was right about that.”
I made a mock pain face, then smiled. “Okay. So, first, I’m not THAT much older than you are…only a decade. I’m a transplant, but I’ve lived in the greater Cleveland area off and on for about fifteen years. I mostly split my time between Ohio, Virginia, and North Carolina due to work, although my roots are now here.
“As to that, let’s work backwards. I am currently a junior partner at Veritas International and hold a bit more of its subsidiary Secura S&I, which just opened a satellite office here two years ago.”
She looked at me, but I saw no recognition, and I realized that there was no reason why she should. I continued, “I do security work.”
“Ah…like what?”
“Well, a large part of our business is specialized security personnel, consultation, investigation, and analysis, mostly for businesses. But we also do bodyguard services, private espionage and counterespionage, asset retrieval, and occasionally other types of jobs.”
“Which of those do you do?”
“Well, if need be, all of them.”
She was looking at me carefully, and I hoped she wasn’t getting spooked. Somewhat cautiously, she asked, “So, are the scars from this job?”
To the point and not shy. I liked that too.
I pointed to the small one on my chin and another on my upper lip. “Bar brawl in Caracas.” Then to a raised oval on my forehead. “I bounced my head off a steering wheel in a crash in Lisbon.” I pointed to my left shoulder, and said somewhat sheepishly, “Knife wound in Moldova. The rest are from former lives.”
She was looking at me as if she was seeing me for the first time. Again, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing. “And what were those former lives? If I’m allowed to ask.”
What was this I was feeling? Was it…happiness? Anticipation? Connection? Yes, that felt right. I felt connected to her somehow. As if I were a puzzle piece that had finally found its place in the larger whole.
I suddenly understood that I needed to try for completely honesty with this woman, something that does not come easy to me at this point in my life. I needed to say something, and it frightened me to put it out there, but I knew, somehow, that it was important that I do so.
I looked at her intensely. She was looking at me, but after a few moments, she looked away. Finally, I said, “Marina,” and she looked back to meet my eyes. “You don’t know me from Adam, but I… I feel like I need to make you this promise. You can ask me anything, and I will always answer truthfully. I will never, ever lie to you directly, and will try never to lie by omission, but I might not be able to give you meaningful answers, as there may be things I simply won’t be able to tell you. If that’s the case though, I will try and tell you that so there’s no misunderstanding about it. Okay?”
I was having trouble reading the expression on her face, but after a moment she gently smiled, and then leaned forward and kissed me. So much for the conversation…
It was a light kiss, just a grazing of lips, but I felt like I had just stuck my lips into a 220-volt socket. She pulled back a moment, looking into my eyes again, her hazel eyes burning like a sea of topaz and emeralds on fire. Then she kissed me again with a hard hunger, and without thought my arms went around her, drawing her more tightly to me as I kissed her back.
I felt her tongue reach into my open mouth, and mine joined hers, dancing, and caressing. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could feel her heartbeat, and within moments it felt as if both of our hearts were beating in sync. We finally broke the kiss and both of us leaned back, gasping for breath. In addition to her beauty and cuteness, there was another look to her now. She was a predator, and she was hungry, and suddenly my cock, which had been slowly waking up since I saw her, went from being interested to demanding I let it out to play.
She took a deep breath, and then said, “I’m in Chagrin Falls.”
I smiled and said, “Lakewood. But…”
“But what?”
“I promise, I really was only thinking about the weather turning to crap when I booked this.” I held up a room key card.
Marina pulled out her phone and typed in a quick text, saying, “I came with my sister. Just telling her I am disappearing for a while.” Then she smiled at me and the ‘you are so getting fucked’ look she gave me would have melted steel. She downed the dregs of her wine, grabbed my hand, and said, “Lead the way.”
The room was on the 14th floor, and I kissed her the entire ride up. I was trying not to get too handsy, but she grabbed my left hand and put it on her ass as her left took hold of my rampantly hard cock through my pants.
I’m sure we looked ridiculous as we tried to move quickly down the hall while still keeping our hands and lips busy with each other, and I finally just picked her up, and she threw her legs around me, dry humping my cock while I held her with my hands on her amazing ass, her arms around my neck and our tongues down each other’s throats. We bounce off the walls a few times, but finally we were inside the room. The king bed had already been turned down, and the lights were low.
My own jacket and shoes were off before the door closed behind us, followed by my tie. Then as I began to take my shirt off, I paused.
Her dress and shoes had come off almost as fast. She was standing in her panties and bra, her hands reaching behind her to unclasp her bra when she realized I had stopped moving. She looked at me. “What?”
I smiled and said, “Two things. First, oh my GOD but you are beautiful! Second, a word of warning. The rest of me, like my face, looks like forty miles of bad road.”
Her smile was wicked as she unclasped her sheer lace green bra, and watched my eyes widen with hunger as her pert, conical breasts came into view. “Well, I hope you realize that I’ve just made it my mission to lick every scar on your body from top to bottom, twice. So, you will have to keep me around long enough to do that.”
I thought “Fuck it,” and ripped my shirt open, sending buttons and fasteners flying across the room. She laughed at that as she shed her panties. I tossed away the shirt, dropped my pants and was suddenly next to her. I took her head in my hands, running my fingers through her lustrous hair, and then pulling her mouth to mine, I kissed her hard, and this time tried to reach her tonsils with my tongue.
Her tongue joined mine and we began dueling to see who’s could move the deepest. Her tits were pressed against my chest, and I could feel her hard half-inch nipples digging into my skin. Her hands were trying to pull my briefs down as I held her in the kiss, but she was struggling with that, since I was literally all over her. I released her, and helped drop the drawers, and within moments she had my rigid rod in her hands.
“Oh damn. That feels so nice.” She seemed pleased, which always makes a man feel good.
I know that while my face wasn’t much to look at even before the wear and tear of an extreme thirty years, I was blessed with a fairly decent body overall, and that included an above average package. I’m certainly not in the ‘REALLY BIG DICK 10+ INCHES’, category that seems to be in vogue these days, far from it in fact. But being on the high side of average, I could have done porn professionally if I had been so inclined. So that’s never been something I’d ever worried about, at least until my wife fell in with that bunch of jumbo-dicked lawyers she worked with. Since then, I haven’t had too many partners, but I’ve found that the doubt it fosters is still in the back of my mind with every one of them. I hate it, so positive reinforcement is always welcomed. And Marina supplied it.
She looked down at my bad boy as she stroked it, and she seemed genuinely pleased. “Damn. Long and fat!” She looked at me and smiled wickedly while she worked the loose skin up and down. “And already leaking. I think it likes me.”
She quickly ducked down, and I gasped and moaned as her tongue snaked out, sponging off the precum that was literally dripping from my bloated crown. She stood up and looked me in the eyes, saying, “Best flavor I’ve had in ages. Makes a girl want more. But I have other plans first…”
She grabbed my shoulders and twisted me until my back was to the bed, then she pushed me back until I was lying down. She climbed on top of me and began to slither and slide all over my body with hers while she kissed and licked me. She was incredibly wet, and her leaking pussy was leaving trails everywhere it touched, and I wanted it so badly.
Finally, her hot, wet slit slid across my balls, and her cleft cupped my shaft as she dragged herself up my length. When she hit the head, she reversed and slowly moved back down to the base of my cock, then repeated the journey several times, basting my cock in her hot, slick juices, and oh was she juicy.
She raised her upper body, placing one hand on my chest as she maneuvered her dripping treasure over my cock as she held it up with her other hand. She notched my head in her wet, succulent folds, lining herself up.
I said, “Wait, I think I -”
She didn’t even slow down. She put her finger across my lips and said, “Don’t worry about it.” I felt the head of my spear slot into the socket, and from there she simply dropped herself down onto my entire length, letting gravity hold sway, and saying “Oh my God…so good…” in a sing-song tone.
I didn’t just slam home. She took her time, seeming to savor the feeling of me prying her open, filling her as she slowly, exquisitely swallowed my cock to the root.
When she hit bottom, she grunted, sitting there for a moment, and gasping like a landed fish. “Jesus, you are thick, lover,” she breathed in a raspy whisper.
After a few moments, she pulled herself slowly about halfway off, and then let herself slide down again, and this time I helped push into her faster. She raised herself once more till only the head remained inside her furnace, then forcibly slammed herself down on me. She screamed “Yes!” as her entire body began shaking in orgasm, the walls of her grasping well collapsing into a death grip on my cock. I felt her encasing sheath get even wetter and hotter, and a scalding flow of liquid flowed out over my groin and balls.
She collapsed on top of me, and I held her, moving my hands gently across her back until her breathing steadied. Then I reached down and grabbed her hips, and pulling back my own, I withdrew about three inches before reversing and shoving myself back into her. At the end of the slide forward I raised my hips off the bed, driving deep. She moaned in appreciation.
I began repeating this, slowly increasing tempo until I was hammering into her at almost jackhammer speeds. She was again gasping, moaning, and crying out, and she would vary and repeat the mantras of saying “yes…yes…yes…” and “…so good…” interspaced with pants, wails, calls to God, and pleadings of “Please, oh please…” and “Fuck me.”
And I did. I slammed upward, holding onto her hips as I hammered into her. I was too wound up for this first round to last very long, and I could feel my balls swelling as they began to slide upwards, moving toward their orgasmic center. It had been two very long years and change since I had been inside of a woman, and longer still since I was inside of one this fantastic. I was building fast toward what promised to be an epic explosion. A few more power slams into her splashing honey pot, and the coiling spring that had been tightening at the base of my cock suddenly hit the trip point. I tumbled into the pyre of ecstasy and screamed an incoherent yell as my cock exploded with supernova luminance, the power of my orgasm radiating from my groin across my entire body. As my cum began to rocket out through my cock, Marina screamed again, and her grip on my cock slammed down into vice-like tightness.
With that incredible pressure, my cum had to fight its way free, and I could feel every rope of jism as I blasted buckets of it into her welcoming mire.
I don’t know how long my orgasm lasted, but it felt unusually long, even for me. When I finally stopped thrusting into her, she collapsed on top of me.
After a few minutes, our breathing began to steady, and I said, “Damn.”
She groaned and said, “Amen.” She took another minute, and then she said, “Thank you. That was…amazing.”
She raised up to look at me, and I kissed her, gently, before I said, “And thank you. I…it was…” I was at a loss, my pleasure-addled brain awash in a soup of endorphins, oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. Finally, I said, “…beyond words.” I could feel that I had lost a little hardness, but true to form for me the refractory sensation of hypersensitivity was already fading, and I knew I would again be stiffening soon if I wished. And I did: I wanted more.
I took a beat, then I asked, “So, do you want to rest, or shall we go again?”
She looked at me, a little smile on her lips. I said, “It’s been a while, but if I remember correctly, you just need to keep riding me slowly, and I should be ready to go in a few moments.”
She smiled and said, “I was thinking at least a few minutes of rest, since I’m a bit out of practice, but now, I want to see if you are telling me the truth.”
I laughed. “No lies, remember? I won’t even exaggerate too much, except for hunting and fishing stories.”
She started to rock on my cock again, and I moaned in appreciation. “Okay,” I said, “now we’re cooking with gas. Once we’re in the groove, you take your time and enjoy yourself. I should be good for a while.”
“Mmmmm,” she said in appreciation. “And oh, so juicy. Damn. Did you pour a quart in there while I wasn’t looking? I can feel you leaking out of me.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll plug that leak,” I said as I felt my cock getting harder and expanding back to its full potential. She raised herself up into a forward leaning but still upright position, again putting her hands on my chest. She was watching me expectantly. And within a minute, she had her answer as I was again at full mast, and she began fucking me in long, slow languid movements. Her face was relaxed, and she was concentrating on her own pleasure. I could see the jolts of that electric joy rolling across her features.
She looked down into my eyes, and the wanton look there pumped extra blood into my hardness. When she spoke, it was deep and husky, “Lover, maybe I’m addled in my old age, but I think that is likely the most perfect cock I’ve ever had the pleasure to fuck. Holy crap, but that’s…Oh…wow.” She started varying her movements with little twists and hip rotations. Then, with mischief in her tone, she said, “Buckle up, my sweet. I’m going to give you the best pole dance you’ve ever had.”
I laughed at that, and looked up at her now undulating body, and said, “Dance on my cock all night if you want, baby.”
She gave a little laugh, then slowed, leaned forward and kissed me hard, her tongue snaking out to twirl around mine. She then went back to riding me, her eyes gazing into mine as she began chasing sensations within her body. She took her time, and the variations of her movements were truly astounding.
She rocked. She spun. She twisted and turned in all of the axis of rotation that I could conceive of. She lifted and then pushed back down, sometimes muscling it, and sometimes letting the physics of gravity and resistance power the way. And this was also my first experience with the ‘twerk’ as I am sure it was meant to be used.
When she wasn’t looking in my eyes, her eyes were either closed or lidded in pleasure. I felt as if every time we locked eyes, we were tethering one to the other. I’d never felt so strongly connected to another person during sex before, not like in those moments.
She had her first thigh-shaking, body-jerking, cunt-clenching orgasm about ten minutes later, and she confirmed for me that, at least on certain types of orgasms, she was a squirter.
On her next, about five minutes after the first, her scalding jet washing over the base of my cock and balls triggered me, and I blasted another huge load of heavy cream up into her beautiful body, which seemed to make her orgasm peak yet again.
True to form, this refractory window was a little shorter than the last, and I only lost a little hardness. I just kept fucking through it and was soon thrusting upward into her at full force.
Thirty-five minutes and four more body-wracking orgasms later, she collapsed, shaking like a leaf, laying her sweat-slick body across mine. She and I were both dripping, her hair was damp, and her entire body was trembling with orgasmic aftershocks. If I moved my cock at all, she would jerk at the sensation.
To ease her calming, I slowly pulled my still hard cock from her sodden hole, and rolled out from under her, then I lay beside her and rubbed my fingertips gently across her back, down to her magnificent ass.
After a few minutes, she cracked an eye and looked at me. She gave an exhausted laugh and said, “Holy shit, Sweets. Are you always this good?”
I smiled at her and said, “I don’t know. It’s been so long I think I’ve forgotten how it’s supposed to work.”
“Well, if that’s you with memory loss, I don’t know if I I’ll be able to handle you when you do start to remember.” Her smile was both sweet and wicked. “But I am willing to try.”
She reached down, I think expecting to find my cock relaxed and spent, but I was still rock hard, and she grabbed it and looked at it. “Crap, Jack. I’m sorry. I didn’t even notice that you hadn’t cum yet.”
“I have, Marina, several times. Its fine, really. I’m more than satisfied.”
She seemed genuinely distressed about it, though. “Are you kidding? You give me the best sex I’ve had in…well, in a hell of a long time, and you end up without ending up? Not on my watch.”
She smiled, but as she tried to move to get up, her legs were shaking, and she said, “I’m sorry, Jack. I really do need to rest at bit.”
I gently moved some of her hair out of her face and kissed her lightly. “So, how about I just roll you over on your back, and then use you as the world’s most gorgeous, pliable, and reactive love doll?”
“That actually doesn’t sound too bad, and I’m going to put that in my quiver of weapons with which to slay the savage beast that lives between your legs when normal means do not tame him.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. And I realized suddenly that the laughter was one of the things that made the time with her so special. I hadn’t laughed this much, this warmly, in years – hell, maybe even decades.
“So,” I asked, “what would you like to do instead?”
She thought for a moment, then she said, “There’s something I really love, but haven’t had the opportunity to do yet. If you’d indulge me, then, I will. Roll over onto your back, please.”
It took me a second, but as she licked her lips, I suddenly thought this was a great idea, so I did as she asked. She lay her head on my belly, looking down at my cock. My crotch, groin and belly were soaked and creamy, a marshy mixture of her various juices and a whole lot of my cum, but this didn’t deter her the least as she moved her head down until she could reach my cock. She turned and gently slurped at the mess that was around my cock and used her hair as a sponge for much of the rest.
She moved down as she siphoned up the creamy mess and began to lick and suck my balls clean. Then, she gently licked up the sides and around my rigid pole until her tongue moved across the crown of my cock. She lifted my cock and pulled it to her mouth, and then looked up at me, her eyes burning with a wanton hunger, and I knew in that moment that this woman loved sucking cock as much for her own pleasure as she did for her lover’s… for me.
From that point forward, her eyes never left mine. Her tongue snaked around and then across the crown of my throbbing cock, running her tongue across the underside of the corona before licking down a little further. Then she moved back up and took me into the incredible liquid fire of her sucking mouth, beginning the most incredible oral odyssey I had ever experienced to that point.
How do I describe that first blowjob? It wasn’t particularly fast, it wasn’t overly sexy even, and she never tried to take more than the first three or so inches into that amazing mouth. But it was incredible, and wonderous, and I soon understood that she was making love to me with her mouth. It was a new experience for me.
I mean, I’ve never done a detailed analysis, but I’ve had a lot of women give me head over the years, and some of them were spectacular. One woman, a CIA analyst I met while in the sandbox, could make me pop in under five minutes, every time, and while that’s incredibly useful in a combat zone, it’s very out of character for me. But she was just that good. For all of that, though, no one has ever really made me feel loved when working me with their mouth.
Marina changed the paradigm. She made me believe that this was every bit as meaningful to her as it was to me, and that this was another moment of tethering of our hearts to one another.
She worked me lovingly for fifteen minutes or so, and I was running my fingers through her hair when I felt the Rubicon wash over me. I said, “I’m about to cum, Marina, and it’s going to be big.” I felt her nod, then she sucked me in a little deeper and kept at it.
I lost it, and I think I said something inane like “Oh, fuck…” but I really don’t remember. The world went bright for a glorious moment, and I know I was somewhere in there, but the intensity of the moment was too overpowering for me to figure out where I ended, and the universe began. When I did begin to come back to the world, I was aware that I could feel every dancing pulse of my cock as it spewed, every thick, ropey blast of cum as it hurtled up the spout to splash and wash across her tongue, inundating her mouth and throat as she struggled to stay with my spasming cock.
My orgasm had been long anticipated, and while my sense of time was somewhat skewed in the euphoria of the moment, I knew from the sensation that this was going to be what I call a running, repeating orgasm, something I only ever experience with blowjobs, and even then, rarely.
I don’t know how much of my cocktail I poured out in that first release, but as my orgasm slowed, and the jerking blasts of cum grew smaller and weaker, the blinding bliss of the orgasm began to fade. It didn’t stay that way though. As I began to feel her siphoning up the cum within her mouth as she continued to gently suck on me, I said, “Don’t let up…please don’t stop…”
I have no idea what impact my words had other than she began to suck me harder again, and her tongue wound around my cock again, and the orgasm I had been riding increased, and after a few moments of only occasional pulses, my cock spasmed hard, and I began another series of blasts into her loving, sucking mouth.
They weren’t as strong or powerful as the first eruptions, but they were still substantial. She gagged and choked for a moment as her mouth and throat once again began to fill with cum. She valiantly fought through whatever discomfort she was experiencing, and continued to suck and swallow what she could, letting the rest pour from her mouth.
I of course didn’t care as it spilled across my stomach and chest to add to the mess that was already there. She rode with it as she could, and then kept gently sucking until my shaft had given her all it had to offer, and I was finally done. Then she began slurping and sucking up the mess that was pooled on my body, cleaning me as best she could before returning to my now very rapidly softening cock and giving it a final, loving suck.
It truly was the best blowjob of my life up to that point.
She moved up and lay next to me, looking at me. She was a wet mess, cum and other juices smeared literally all over her face, her hair wet and streaked with it. In almost any other situation, it would have been one of the raunchiest, sluttiest things I’ve ever seen, second only to my ex as a party favor. In this moment, it was simply beautiful.
I was still catching my breath. She grabbed the sheet and began wiping her face as she said, “Sorry I couldn’t clean you up better. There’s just so much, and I really am full.” She laughed incredulously. “And that’s something I never thought I would ever say when talking about a man’s cum.”
My breath was finally calming enough, and I said, “Come here, please.” I reached out to her and gently guided her still somewhat messy face to my own.
She resisted as she understood what I was doing, and for the first time she seemed uncertain. She said, “Sweets, you don’t have to kiss me right now. I know I’m a mess.”
“Please,” was all I said. Finally, she stopped fighting, and I pulled her to me and gently but warmly kissed her, my tongue rolling across hers.
After I broke the kiss, I said, “No matter how messy or sloppy it was, you made love to me with your mouth. I have never experienced anything like that, ever. It was beyond description it was so good. In every conceivable way. I wanted…needed, to kiss you after that.”
She smiled as she used the sheet on her hair and looked a little embarrassed. “Really?”
I smiled back. “No lies, remember. Seriously next level. By far and away the best I’ve ever had. And I like messy, by the way.” She smiled at that.
“Now,” I continued, “I just want bask in the glow of a most amazing woman that has taken me into her body and made me feel things I didn’t know existed.” I leaned over and kissed her, and then lay back.
She was tracing some of the scars on my chest with her fingers when she went to sleep. I let out a deep breath, closed my eyes and joined her.
*****
It must have been about an hour later that my phone rang. It was in my jacket, and I could barely hear it, but it was enough to wake me. I slipped away from the bed and Marina, who was still sleeping, and finally dug out my phone. I had missed the call, but I dialed Natalie back.
“Jack, I can’t find you.”
“I’m with someone, Natalie. Marina and I met, and…well, we left the party.”
I could hear her smile through the phone. “So, you’re in your room?”
“Yes, Natalie, if you must know.”
“The room you were going to share with me if the weather was bad?”
“Yes, Natalie.”
“Okay, well, give her a hug for me, and I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Where will you be?”
“Oh, I had no plans to actually share your room. I thought you might strike out, but I definitely wouldn’t. And Zane from Accounting has one, so I’ll be busy with him.”
“Well, have fun. Good night, Natalie.”
“Good night, Jack.”
I put the phone down on the bedside table and looked up to see Marina watching me. I said, “Hey, gorgeous. How are you?”
She smiled and said, “Wondering if this is real, or if I’m somehow dreaming.”
I sat on the bed beside her. “Well, I think if it was a dream, I would look more like Henry Cavill and be twenty years younger.”
“Mmm. Sounds lovely, but I’m not really interested. This,” she pointed at one of the dark scars on my chest, “This is interesting.” She raised her head to my chest, and kissed the scar, then she ran her tongue over it.
She looked at me then and asked, “Did you just come twice in my mouth in less than a minute?”
I was a little embarrassed. “Well, not really. I ejaculated twice during a long, multi-peaked orgasm. That’s almost always an oral stimulation occurrence. I’ve gone as many as four peaks before, although that was a long, long time ago.”
She looked thoughtful. “See? Interesting.” She licked my chest again. “I can still taste your cum on your skin. Not that I mind it, although I prefer it fresh,” she smiled up at me, “but we should probably shower before we do anything else. We are both incredibly messy. And I am going to need your help to get all of our cum out of my hair.”
“Works for me. Are you hungry?”
She smiled wickedly and said, “Not as much as I was before you fed me a pint of your heavy cream. But I could eat.”
“How about a steak?”
“Yes, a filet would be nice, with whatever sides you want to get. Medium please.”
I watched her stand up and stretch. She wasn’t ripped, but she was a lot more cut and sculpted than I had originally thought. Think Jen Widerstrom. I could see the movement of her muscles as she flexed and stretched, and honestly, it was hot. She looked like a dancer to me, and I would have bet money on ballet or modern being in her history somewhere.
As she turned toward the shower, she said, “Hurry up and make that call, then join me,” and there was a little extra sway in her ass as she moved to the bathroom. My cock took notice and started a slow fill.
I called room service, and with the percs my company gave us with certain hotels, I added a few extras to the menu. Then I hung up the phone and headed for the bathroom.
As I stepped into the shower, Marina turned and kissed me. It was not hungry, but it was long, and warm, and loving. Then she backed away and put me under the spray. She soaped me down, and gently washed my body. “You’re wrong, you know.”
I was blissfully enjoying the feel of her slippery hands moving across my skin, so her statement caught me by surprise. “Hmm? How so?”
“You don’t look bad. Certainly not like…what was it, ‘forty miles of bad road’? Your body is beautiful. It’s hard and chiseled and strong, but you aren’t overly bulky. What are you at? Something ridiculous like 6% body fat?”
“No. That’s too light. I feel like I’m going to blow away when I’m that light. My preferred range is 8 to 10, but I’m carrying winter weight, so most likely a little higher.”
She nodded. “You and me both, Sweets. You are obviously a gym rat -”
I interjected, “Takes one to know one.”
“Not in your league, lover. You must hammer it daily, which is impressive at your age and apparent success. You manscape that crop of body hair appropriately and just enough.
“You’re beautiful, my sweet. Just beautiful. I think you’re just self-conscious about the scars, of which there are many I will admit. But they give you character.”
“Yeah. One that Mary Shelly created called ‘The Monster’.”
As she was working on my cock, which was at half mast, she smiled up at me and said, “Later.” Then she got to my over-large balls, which sat heavily in her hand, and she hefted the now hanging sack and said, “Well no wonder.”
“Yeah. I’ve got a…condition.”
She laughed, “I’ll say!”
I laughed with her, but then said, “Seriously, I have something called hyperspermia.”
She looked at me, wondering if I was serious. Then she said, “I’ve heard of it, but never seen a patient that had it that I know of.”
“I doubt that. It’s relatively rare, but not THAT rare. And just because you’ve never diagnosed anyone with it doesn’t mean they don’t have it. I just happen to be an outlier in a group of outliers. It’s why my libido is so high, and at least partially responsible for most of my orgasmic and ejaculative weirdness. It can be uncomfortable and painful, but I manage it to keep that at a minimum. We even have support group forums about it.”
“Is that why you are also so sweet? Tasting, I mean.”
“Maybe. I’ve heard that before from others, but I never thought much about it. It’s not something I ever asked my doctor about. I do know that the fructose percentage of my cum is elevated over the normal range, so yeah, I guess that would make me a little sweeter than most, and might cancel out some of the alkaline bitterness. What’s it taste like?”
“You don’t know?”
“Well, I mean, I have tasted myself peripherally. Hell, I did that tonight. But I’ve never had the experience of getting a mouthful before.”
She laughed, then said, “Hmmm. We may have to fix that, and I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” She smiled as she pulled me close and rinsed the soap off of me, “And I like it. Assuming you play your cards right, I see lots of blowjobs in your future.”
I must have looked surprised, and she said, “So? I love sucking cock. Or more correctly, I love sucking the right cock. And right now, yours sure feels and tastes like the right cock. Do you have a problem with that?”
I felt myself grinning like an idiot. “No, ma’am.”
“Good. I also don’t mind it getting messy, so don’t worry about that part either, okay? You will note that I create my own amount of mess.”
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. “I noticed, and love that. I cannot wait to drink from that well.”
She smiled up at me. “Promise?”
“Just try and stop me.” I kissed her again, then said, “Hand me the shampoo. The food should be here soon, and I’m suddenly really hungry for solid protein.”
She handed me the shampoo, and then moved back under the spray. I worked her hair through two heavy washings, and then rinsed it out carefully.
As I did, she said, “I want to make you the same promise.”
“What promise is that?”
She did a final rinse, then turned to me as she wiped the water from her eyes.
“No lies. Of course, there will always be things about patients and their treatments that I can’t discuss, but I will always try and tell you that.”
She was looking into my eyes, and she put her hands on my chest. “I think that honesty and trust are requirements for a good, solid relationship. I think those two, plus respect and love are the four foundational building blocks of any successfully healthy relationship.
“That said, just because I’m a practitioner of relationship sciences doesn’t mean I’m perfect at them. Far from it. Like most of us in this field will tell you, we are much better at theory than practice when it comes to ourselves.”
She looked down, and then back up to me, and I could see uncertainty in her eyes again. She said, “I have secrets, Jack. Should we decide that this is worth pursuing, which I’m currently in favor of, by the way, then I promise I will discuss them all with you. But understand, please, that I’m a work in progress. I want to be a better person than I am, and I work at it every day.”
I could feel the sudden vulnerability in her, her need for reassurance palpable. I said, “You and me both, babe. You and he both.”
I leaned down and kissed her again, wrapping her in my arms and holding her tightly to me, and after we ended the kiss, we continued to hold each other in the falling water.
As badly as I wanted not to, we ended the shower just before the food arrived. And the food was good. I flagged my brain with a reminder to make sure and pass my compliments, along with a gratuity, to the chefs working the late shift tonight.
The drinks, though, were even better if I do say so myself. She was working on a bottle of Domaines Ott Rose Chateau De Selle, and I on a bottle of Amandio Silva & Filhos Amandio’s Old Tawny port. I know, that is a ridiculous amount to pay for alcohol, but I do love port, and it was the best I could do for her with what the hotel had in stock.
I had just refilled her glass when she said, “You never finished telling me about those former lives. Where did all these come from?” She pointed at my eye scar, but she was referencing them all.
I was feeling mellow and relaxed, so I decided not to pull too many punches. Somehow, I knew that this wasn’t going to be a fling. Marina and I were headed for a long relationship. I knew that as certainly as I knew the sun would rise tomorrow.
I said, “I joined the Marine Corp shortly after high school and was an active-duty Marine for twenty years. I was in Marine Intelligence for a while, then moved into Force Recon and finally into the Raiders and MARSOC.” When she looked confused, I clarified, “Marine special forces.”
She gave me a smile. “Sorry, I’m not up on the lingo.”
I laughed. “I should apologize. Like I said, I don’t talk about myself much, and I forget that most people have no clue what most of this stuff means.”
She reached out and put her hand on mine. “It’s okay. I want to know and want to learn what I need to know to understand. Part of that ‘interesting’ thing I keep talking about.”
I nodded. “Anyway, one of the three-letter agencies in D.C. had been after me for years, and when I hit twenty years with the Corps, I decided to make that jump, and so I became a civilian and went to work in one of their special operations units. You combine both military and civilian jobs, and I worked for Uncle Sam for almost thirty years.
“I was recruited by Veritas while still with the government, and that got me into the private sector. Most recently, I started thinking, loosely, about a second retirement, and they suggested that I open up the Cleveland office of Secura S&I for them and I could stay here as my base of operations until I decided I didn’t want to work anymore. I still do troubleshooting for the big company, and occasional special projects, but mostly I just manage operations remotely, and the day-to-day of this office.” I smiled at her. “It’s nice not getting shot at very often. I think I could get used to it.”
“Well, if it helps, I will shoot at you every once in a while, to keep you from getting bored.”
My smile was wide as I asked, “Are you a shooter?”
“No, but I’d be glad to learn, if you would like to teach me.”
“Deal.”
She indicated the big scar on my face. “Tell me about that one.”
I tried to smile, but I knew it was forced. She must have seen that, and she said,
“I’m sorry, Jack. Did I step in it?”
This time, my smile was genuine, if small. “No, baby. It’s just that the big ones usually hurt the worst and continue to do so long after the fact.”
I indicated the face scar, then the large, ugly one that deformed my left forearm a bit. “These, plus some of the smaller ones everywhere else all happened at once. I can’t tell you where, and as to when, I can only say that it was in the first decade of our current war. My team was part of a larger sweep and clear, and we stumbled into a large explosive ordinance cache. We flagged it and were on our way out when the overwatch team got bounced by a heavy armed patrol. We were moving to support when the bad guys fired an RPG at the overwatch team. It sailed through their line without hitting anything, then skipped off the road pavement and changed course. It hit the building we were vacating…the one with the explosives in it.”
When you go back over events like these in your life, you try and build strategies around how to deal with the tough parts. Of course, what they don’t tell you until after you actually get treated by someone who knows their shit and gives a fuck is that those first strategies make those parts harder to get past the next time. So as much for my sake as for hers, I pretty much skipped straight to the Reader’s Digest AAR.
“It breached the wall it hit, and the cache was directly on the other side. The whole building blew up, and I lost six brothers. But five of us got home, me after a two-month stay in the hospital.”
“I’m sorry, Jack.”
“No worries, babe. It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it.”
Her hair had fallen across her face, and she looked up through it at me. Suddenly all I could see and hear was a well-drawn redhead in a red sequined dress. I said, “Holy shit”
“What?”
“This is going to sound weird, and totally non sequitur, but will you do something for me?”
“Um, sure, Sweets…”
I asked her to stand beside one of the room’s easy chairs, sit into her hip, put her hand on her hip, pull her hair across so it covered one eye, and in her best May West to say, “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.”
She nailed me with the third throw pillow and followed that up with a continuous pillow beating. After I fought back and kissed her into submission, though, she did agree to do a Jessica Rabbit costume for me for Halloween.
It didn’t dawn on me till later that the entire exchange assumed she and I would still be together in some way in ten months. I bet it wasn’t lost on her.
I told her about growing up in West Texas with my brother Mike, which also meant spreading my experiences out into Southern New Mexico and Northern Chihuahua, Mexico as I got older. Nothing like spending the night in a Mexican jail to give a 16-year-old hot-head a new perspective on life.
That led to a discussion about parents, and my losing both mine when I was 25 to a drunk driver, going into the Marine Corps at 19, and marrying my first wife. I briefly discussed that divorce, and then I gave her the condensed version of my second marriage to Maddy. Marina knew something about that because she and Natalie were good friends, and Marina had even met Maddy a few times. That marriage and subsequent shit-show of an end left me broken, and I didn’t get into that much, but my bet is she could tell.
She talked about her life growing up in Cincinnati as a good Catholic girl. Her mother, Miranda, was a librarian, and her father, Vince, had been a firefighter, killed on the job. Her mother had moved to the Cleveland area and was now dating a corporate guy who worked for Sherwin-Williams. It seemed pretty serious, which Marina was happy about.
She had a sister, Teresa, who went by Teri and who was a nurse, and had moved to Cleveland with their mother after the death of their father. Marina had come with her and her husband, Michael to the party. There were also two brothers, both of whom lived out of town. Dominic was a cop in Cincinnati, and Martin was a biologist working for the EPA out of Marquette, Michigan as part of the Great Lakes monitoring programs.
She discussed the ups and downs of going to Ohio State and meeting Alan Sultis, moving to Cleveland with him after graduation, where she attended to her advanced degrees, and eventually marrying him.
Alan was an actuary who had tended to see the world as black and white. He hadn’t liked the direction her career was going, and after a few years he couldn’t handle it anymore, so they divorced after five years of marriage. I could tell she was uncomfortable telling me that, but I didn’t understand why.
“Marina, what do you do that would break up your marriage?”
She looked at me, and I could see hesitation in her as she thought about how to answer that. Finally, she said quietly, speaking to herself, “Okay…”
She took a deep breath, and said, “Jack, I am a sex therapist, and a sex surrogate. I have sex with some of my patients.”
… …
My brain went into vapor lock. If I had been working and someone had chosen this moment to deprive me of my life by some nefarious means, I would have gone out like a lamb. I just couldn’t form a coherent thought.
… …
When my brain slowly began to function, my first thought was, “why the fuck didn’t Natalie tell me this?” My next thought was, “in light of what you are feeling for this woman, what does this mean?” Other thoughts began to flood my mind, too fast do anything with.
It dawned on me that my lack of response was starting to pass into the realm of ridiculousness. Simply put, the silence of the moment hung like a pollution pall trapped in an inversion layer. I could feel the need to say something, but between the states of ‘no coherent thought’, and ‘too many thoughts and questions,’ there was literally nothing that seemed to make sense.
Finally, for want of anything better, I simply said, “Cool.”
That broke her. She went from very serious to falling out of her chair laughing in about three seconds, and her laughter was contagious. I was suddenly laughing my ass off with her. I don’t know why it was so funny. I guess you had to be there, but we laughed for a full five minutes or so before we began to come down to giggles and grins.
Finally, she said, “Thank you for that, lover.”
I reached over and kissed her, and she kissed me back deeply. When we came up for air, I said, “This does beg some questions, though.”
She looked at me, and I didn’t see any hesitation this time. “Shoot,” she said.
I thought for a few seconds, and then asked, “So, can you tell me about it, in generalities?”
“Sure. It’s a job.” She smiled sheepishly at how lame that sounded, but she was making a point, and I got it. “It’s treatment. If there wasn’t some problem to address, the patient wouldn’t be there. I will do whatever Doctor Sandoval, who is my usual consulting partner, and I deem necessary to assist the patient with whatever issues are causing them to experience sexual dysfunction. Occasionally, medications and/or some other medical intervention is required to help, but most sexual dysfunction occurs in the mind, and through feedback loops with physical therapy, usually consisting of sexual exercises, and cognitive behavioral therapy, we try and help patients to achieve a more normal, healthy sexual function.”
“What limits do you put on it?”
“Well, while there aren’t really any limitations on the sex, we keep it in the realm of what is required for treatment. That can mean everything from talking dirty to cum play, usually with digital, oral, and vaginal sex, but it’s all done according to a regulated treatment plan. I personally have never done anal with a patient, as I’ve never seen the need. And probably won’t for personal reasons.”
“I bet it screws with your social life.”
“Sort of, but probably not for the reasons you might think. Now, understand, I’m talking about the normal course of my business, and the past year has been anything but normal.
“In a normal year, I get plenty of sex. And as you can probably tell, I like sex, a lot. I too have a very high libido. But the amount I get at my job removes a big incentive for dating.
“Of course, when I do date, what I do professionally usually ends any chance of it becoming long-term or reveals that they are into kink that I am not, like hot-wifing or slut-wifing.
“And your next question is about the last year, right?”
I was actually going to ask what ‘hot-wifing’ and ‘slut-wifing’ were but figured Google would have to suffice and would hold till later. So, I just smiled, nodded, and said, “Of course.”
“The practice got sued. Actually, another consulting psychologist that I sometimes worked with got sued. I won’t go into details, except to say that it was a malpractice suit, and I was also working with that patient. I had to stop taking new patients with sexual dysfunction issues and either transferred patients to another therapist or finished treatment where we could do so quickly. But the suit has settled, and as of two weeks ago, life is returning to normal. But for the last nine months, I’ve had nothing but battery-operated sex.”
I nodded and put a pin in that for possible later discussion as well. I asked, “Different line of question. Only men?”
“As patients? Mostly, or couples. There are a few male colleagues in the area that treat both men and women, and a few that treat only men. We don’t know any women in the Cleveland area that strictly treat women, so most of us women do so if it’s necessary. That said, most problems that women experience that require our intervention usually involve a specific partner, so it’s rarely ‘girl on girl’ action, and if it is, they usually provide their own. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Ah, well…” I grinned at her. Then a thought occurred to me. “How is it…different? I mean, how is what we are doing different than what you do every day?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “For me, there’s a strict division of awareness.” She smiled and said, “It’s actually the reverse of what we coach most of our patients to do, which is to unite their awareness.
“With you, I’m in the moment, totally, and it’s all about the contact, both the physical and the…the emotional. I’m thinking about feeling and sensation, both yours and mine. It’s new, so I’m exploring you and your body, so that I can please you but also for myself. I’m being somewhat selfish in that I am wanting you to rock my world…which you are, by the way, and then some. Nothing else matters in the moment except you and me, and our connection and pleasure when we are having sex.
“When I’m at work, I want to enjoy myself…in fact I need to enjoy myself. I mean, faking it is always an option, but if you are caught at it, it can destroy any trust and credibility you have with your patient, and then it’s over. You can actually cause more harm to them, and in my book that is unacceptable, so for me, no faking.
“For the patient, I have to be encouraging and kind without condescension. I have to let them know that they are doing it for me, and that I am enjoying myself as much as I want them to, but that it really is all about them. I am there to please them.
“And it is about them. Objectively, I have to be constantly aware of their physical and emotional state. I must be assessing them and their performance, making mental notes the entire session.” She smiled, and then said, “While they are discreet, there are seven clocks in the room, so that no matter which way I’m facing, or what position we are in, I can take note of the time. This allows for accurate reporting later. And we video record all of the sessions for a variety of clinical and legal reasons.”
I thought for a moment, then said, “I’m assuming that staying emotionally detached is important, but you also need to establish an intimate relationship with them. It’s not like they are a ‘one-and-done’ thing, right? You need to connect with them, so how do you establish emotional boundaries?”
She thought for a moment. “You are right. We have to establish a relationship, but with strict boundaries. And unlike most intimate relationships, it’s mostly about the sex. It’s a lot like some affairs in many ways, just a bit more formal and targeted in purpose.
“Usually the sex is good, certainly enough to encourage and allow the patient and work toward issue resolution. And it usually gets progressively better toward the end of treatment.
“More rarely the sex is very good. It can even be on occasion great. But it should never be finding-God-once-in-a-lifetime great, nor should it ever become a yearning. That is career suicide and can ruin your ability in your own head to effectively treat these people. A certain level of emotional detachment is thus a requirement.”
I thought about that for a second. “Okay, so, how do you achieve that?”
She smiled as she thought about it. “Well, for one thing, I try and regulate my orgasms. I don’t always have them, particularly at first. But it’s usually something that the patient works toward because it’s important to their sense of accomplishment and pride in their abilities as a lover. By the end of treatment, things are usually good enough that I’m getting my cookie at least once or twice a session.
“But I regulate them, for want of a better term. For me, most are better than using a vibrator, but not by much. A few reach that ‘holy shit this is good’ level, but the division of awareness I was talking about earlier acts as a kind of a regulator, or governor, that keeps things from getting too intense.”
She thought for a moment, and then continued, “Another way I maintain emotional distance is to never kiss patients, except for the occasional light peck on the cheek. I can become very fond of them, and yes, sometimes they become very connected to me. But both I and the primary therapist I am working with repeatedly reinforce with them that this is a doctor-patient relationship. The patient and I are not really lovers.”
She looked at me intently, and then said, “I only kiss people who are lovers…who I feel a connection to…that I am interested in emotionally.” She looked at me, and her gaze had a deep intensity. “I haven’t kissed anyone in four years, Jack.”
I looked at her, a gentle smile on my face. “We are kissing… A lot.”
She actually blushed then and looked away, saying, “I’m very comfortable in my own skin. I know how to navigate intimate situations better than most, because it’s what I’ve studied and done professionally for over a decade. I am always in control of myself and my emotions in intimate interactions, except that right now, not so much…” She looked down for a moment, then back at me, and I could see uncertainty waring with wonder in her eyes.
“The thing is, Jack, I’ve known you for less than four hours. Yet I feel like I’ve somehow known you forever. I’m a little off balance here because I feel like we are already connected somehow.” She shrugged as she seemed to struggle for the right words. “Soulmates, I guess? I’m not even sure what that really means. And how in the hell can that be the case anyway? But…I know what I feel.
“Like I said, I don’t date much because, for one thing finding a person who can accept and understand what I do and who isn’t threatened by it is tough, and God, but I hope you are at least somewhat that guy.
“I also don’t date much because I’ve not had any luck in finding the spark…the connection…someone I want to kiss.”
“I get that,” I said. “Hell, in the last three years I’ve had better relationships with my pocket pussies than with women.”
She laughed, and said, “I’ve got plenty of toys too, and because of the litigation, have been wearing them out. But I usually get all the sex I need and then some during a regular work week, no batteries required.
“But I’m lonely, Jack, down to my core. I want the connection. I want intimacy with the sex. And to me, that’s what makes good sex great, and great sex mind-blowing. Whether you are having wild crazy monkey sex, languid making-love sex, or knock-one-out-before-bed maintenance sex, if you are emotionally connected, it’s better than good, every time. And somehow, that’s what I think I have found with you!”
She took a deep breath, then continued, “All of this to say that I don’t want you to think that what I do for a living would in any way get in the way of loving you…jeez…I’m sorry…I just said that. That is stupid and presumptuous of me, and I apologize.” She killed her glass of wine and poured the last of the bottle into the glass. “I’m going to shut up now.”
Was what she did as a profession a problem for me? I have done some morally and ethically questionable things in my life for my job. A few of those included having sex with women who were not my wife. Maddy never knew about those, and at the time I couldn’t have told her about them even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t. There was no need. But could I now judge Marina for doing essentially the same thing? I decided that the conversation about her job wasn’t over, but the job wasn’t a brick wall either.
“Marina, there’s no need for an apology. First, what you do isn’t a deal breaker, at least not yet. I will tell you unequivocally that I don’t like sharing, so buying in is going to be an uphill climb. But… I’ve never even considered this kind of profession before, and how I might feel if I were with someone in it.” My mind was running furiously, while I tried to figure out how to phrase what I was feeling. “Given the restrictions and guidelines you build into it for professional reasons…
“The thing is, with the way I am feeling right now – which I don’t understand but can’t deny – I want very much to try and find a way forward with it and am willing to work with you toward that end.
“Because this is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of happening in real life. I mean, there are these ridiculous books and movies about people who see each other and it’s like their world instantly changes. Love at first sight, and all of that bullshit.”
She was smiling warmly at me, and said, “Only it’s not bullshit, is it? Huh…some enchanted evening.”
It took me a moment. “Wait…” I put up a finger while I searched the memory banks. Then, “South Pacific.”
She laughed, “Right. It’s about finding your true love, and then making sure you grab them with both hands and never let go. Otherwise, you will always be haunted by what might have been.”
“Well, something sure as hell happened. I feel like it grabbed us. I mean, talk about off balance; my world has been turned completely on its head by the most amazing woman I could have ever imagined meeting. Did you know that when I first looked into your eyes across that room, I tripped on my own feet?”
She laughed lightly, “I did notice that. I just thought you were a clumsy oaf. But then you came up to me with such grace, I figured maybe what hit me when I looked into your eyes also hit you.”
“It did, Marina, harder than I’ve ever been hit by anything even remotely like this before.” I looked at her, and realized that as ridiculous as it sounded, she might be the one. No, that wasn’t right. She WAS the one. I knew that with a certainty that shouldn’t exist but did.
She was my Dulcinea. I knew it to my core. Yesterday I would have laughed at the idea that such a person exists for anyone, let alone me. Now, I felt like she was real, and sitting before me.
Was I worthy of her? More importantly perhaps, was I worthy of happiness with her? It might seem a strange question, I know, but my life is a checkerboard in grayscale, with the preponderance tending toward the darker values. I do try to be a good person these days, but that wasn’t always the case, and even after it was, the practical realities of my job, plus my natural tendency toward being an asshat often guide me away from the “good” path.
And let’s not forget that I am a killer. I have a lot of blood on my hands, and even though many of them deserved it, and most were necessary either for mission success or basic survival, that doesn’t really balance the karmic scales.
And what about her? If I did care about her, would I want to subject her to me and the garbage that comes with me?
I sighed and said, “I’ve got a whole boxcar of baggage that comes with me, Marina. My mind and soul are as scarred as my body. I’m broken is some spectacularly ugly ways, and honestly, I always have been, and time has only made it worse. I’ve managed to hold myself together over the years with chewing gum and zip ties, but it’s not pretty when you look under the hood.
“I don’t really think of myself as a good or nice person, even though people I trust keep telling me otherwise. I certainly don’t think of myself as a happy person.” I felt myself tensing up and took a deep breath that I let out as a sigh before continuing, “And for someone with your training, that should probably ring alarm bells.”
She reached out and put her hand on mine and looked at me with the saddest, most intense look I’ve ever seen on a person. “I can only imagine what you have seen and gone through in your life, Jack. At some point, I hope you will trust me enough to share it with me.
“I will tell you that I have my own baggage, and some of it is terrifying to me, although most of the wounds are at least partially self-inflicted.” She smiled then, and a comforting warmth poured from her to surround me with comfort and what could only be love. “But I’m much more afraid of showing you my baggage than in seeing yours.
“Really, Jack. I look at you, and I see all of the pain that each of those scars represents. I know that every physical wound has accompanying mental and emotional wounds, and that there are many, many more of those that don’t leave physical scars, but were just as painful.
“Yet, you look at me, and you light up like the brightest sunrise, and I feel like a plant that has not seen the sun in ages, suddenly basking in the glory of your light. How can you be bad for me when the sight of me makes you shine so brightly?
“And I feel like I too must be beaming. This is crazy, but I am almost giddy, I’m so happy right now. And it’s all because you’re proving to be the most amazing man I’ve ever met, and I feel like I just won life’s lottery.” She pushed a pointed finger into my chest and said with a wry smile, “Interesting!”
I smiled widely at that, and she continued, “This whole situation is scary. If you are feeling like me, we are both putting ourselves way out there, dangling together on the end of the limb. THAT is scary. But you, and whatever you bring to this…not scary.”
I stood, and pulled her up with me, then scooped her up to carry her. She made a little cry of joyous alarm as she wrapped an arm around my neck and held me tightly. I didn’t have far to go, but it was nice to hold her.
I set her to stand by the bed, and gently kissed her as I slowly untied her robe. I slid it from her shoulders, and it fell to the floor. I stepped back and really looked at her for a moment, as I dropped my own robe. God, but she was exquisite.
Her skin was smooth, with a luscious tan coloring of light Irish Cream. Her breasts were high and wide-spaced, and still very firm, conical with just the slightest amount of roundness on the undersides. Her areolae were almost perfect circles about an inch-and-a-half in diameter, in a darker shade of her skin tone with just a touch of pink to warm it further. Her nipples, now hard, were like half-inch hemispheres with a bit more pink in their color, and as I watched, her areolae began to shrink as they crinkled, causing her nipples to extend out even further.
Her waist was subtle, but still slender, and flowed out to narrow hips. Still, if she turned at even the slightest angle, the perception of her hips being narrow vanished as her magnificent ass came into view, and this was made even stronger when she bent at the waist or sat down.
I picked her up again, causing her this time to giggle. I gently laid her down on the bed. Then I crawled in next to her and kissed her, long and loving, my tongue slowly rubbing across hers, our lips cradling and caressing. When I broke the kiss, I gently licked at her lips for a moment. She kept opening her mouth, but I didn’t kiss her again on her lips.
Instead, I took light kisses and licks down the side of her neck, then across her collar bones to the other side, and spent a few moments there. I learned that her neck and collar bones were special places for her, and that the proper caress and kiss there was almost as good as a clit twirl.
After discovering what those spots could do for her arousal, I worked myself down and started in on her chest. Her breasts were set wide, and so my tongue and lips danced and played in the valley between them for a bit.
This had her moaning and sighing, with the occasional sharp intake of breath, which only got stronger as I really started in on her lovely breasts. I lightly licked, kissed, and occasionally sucked all around her luscious mounds, and I noticed that the undersides were particularly sensitive when she started to whimper gently. The whimpers got louder and needy when I began to lick at the edges of her areolae, and she took my head and tried to drag my mouth to her nipples. She whispered “Please, please…”
I just looked up at her and smiled, then trailed my tongue away from her breasts and down the centerline of her body. Her hand started toward her chest, but I grabbed them both and said, “Not yet.”
“Ugh…Oh, damn…”
I licked back down, creating a wet trail of saliva. When I hit the hair line, I was pleasantly surprised. She wore what I’ve heard called the “five-o’clock shadow” look, which is essentially a tight cut that looks like a week or two after being shaved smooth. The cut was hard-edged into a triangle that covered her natural contours, so it was clean but looked natural. What amazed me was how soft it was. I would have expected it to be bristly. But no, it was downy soft, and licking through it kicked my bpm a few beats higher.
Her hips were starting to jump off the bed in need as I parted her legs and began to work on the upper parts of her inner thighs. I worked my lips and tongue around her puffy outer labia, then let my tongue lightly touch just the edges of her inner lips, where they were unfurling and puffing up in desire.
I will say that I love a beautiful pussy, and honestly, I’ve met very few I didn’t consider beautiful. But the intricacies, folds, shapes and feel of Marina’s put it by far ahead of most. I know that I am now biased, but tough. It is as beautiful a piece of female reproductive anatomy as I have ever seen, and I intended to explore every micrometer of it.
Her heady aroma filled my senses, and I could see that her wetness was flowing out of her in a little stream, running like a micro waterfall across the beautiful, closed star of her anus. Damn, every time I thought she couldn’t get any hotter, she upped the ante.
I flicked my tongue around that tightly closed orifice, and she bucked and squirmed as my tongue licked across it, then dug into it, trying to enter that most forbidden of places.
“Oh…Oh my God, Jack. What are you…Oh…”
I didn’t push the issue, instead, licked up across the soft skin separating her two adjoining holes, then across the source of her delicious river, licking up each of her inner blushing lips, until I hit the treasure at the top.
I ran my tongue around her clit, which while small, was swollen and extending out of its lengthy hood.
Suddenly, I lifted off of her and pulled myself up to her face and kissed her hard. She groaned and her hands dug into my hair as she mashed my lips to hers. I let her kiss me like that for about thirty seconds. Then I came off, dropped my head to her breasts, and took her left nipple into my mouth, sucked deeply, and bit it lightly, while my right hand found the other nipple and pulled on it, stretching her breast upward while I twisted and squeezed the nipple.
She bucked upward, her back rising up off the bed as she pushed her chest out, crying out “Oh, FUCK!”, then she reversed and convulsed inward as her orgasm took her. She shook and vibrated for about fifteen seconds before she began to relax, and I ease off on her nipples, then I licked and kissed them, playing lightly on them with the tip of my tongue and my lips. Finally, I took them in turn into my mouth, sucking in varying depths and strengths. I worked both delectable tips in varying degrees of intensity for a few minutes before I headed back south. She was whimpering and saying, “Oh, sweet, sweet lover… Oh fuck…oh…please…please…make love to me…please…”
I just smiled as I began to lick, suck, and lightly chew on her dripping pussy. This time, I also let my tongue explore her ass more fully, and in time I was able to get the tip into her. That seemed to drive her a little crazy, but not as much as my next discovery.
I know that most guys say they like eating pussy. I even know a few that say they love it. For me, from a very early age, it was one of my favorite things. While it’s a story for another time, my first real lover was my mother’s mother. Okay, I know. I can feel the cringes from here, but I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything in the world. She gave me my absolute love of going down. Because of her, I really, really love orally playing with a woman’s body, particularly her vagina and surrounds. Few things get me harder faster, and I can literally do it for hours if I’m allowed.
I had been enjoying Marina’s deliciously wet offering for a few minutes when I discovered something else interesting and remarkable about her. Her G spot was fairly pronounced, and easy to locate, but what really set it apart from others in my experience was the fact that it was marginally closer to the entrance of her vagina. Close enough, in fact, that with the right angle, I was able to drag the tip of my tongue across it, and when I did that the first time, I thought she was going to lose her mind. When I began to start there and end at her clit, we entered a different level of crazy and I drove her through five long, brain-jarring super-soaking orgasms doing that, drinking all she poured out for me.
And did she ever pour it out for me. I’d never experienced a woman who squirted so much amazing girl-cum. Sometimes it was a dribbling flow. More common was the light squirt that would arc or spray out from her. And occasionally, she would literally explode in a heavy arcing flow of the sweet, hot nectar. When the first one of those happened, I wasn’t prepared for the deluge of cum that exploded from her, and I almost inhaled a mouthful of the hot juice.
I was loving my feast so much I would have just kept going, but she finally pushed my head away and immediately pulled at me, saying, “Please, oh…I need you…inside me. Please lover…”
I kissed her again and felt her tongue snake out of the kiss to run over my chin, lips, and cheeks to taste her own sweet sauce before diving back into my mouth. I broke the kiss and came up to my knees. I arched myself over her, notched myself in her hungry entrance, and looking into her eyes, I slowly pushed myself into her.
She moaned out her appreciation as I sent a few inches into her. Then pulling out to the head, and started in again, this time moving into her deeper, gently prying her open as I worked at sliding every bit of my cock in. Even expanded and tented in arousal, she wasn’t that deep, and as I nosed into her fornix, stretching her, my glans just skipped off her cervix. I had noticed that I did that in our earlier session, but it can be difficult to get a read on a woman’s anatomy the first time in cowgirl.
She gasped as I did it this time, and I looked at her. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”
She shook her head and pulled me down to kiss her, which I did, deeply. Then she said, “Just… just hold me here for a minute, please. Don’t move. Don’t – Oh…oh…yes. Oh, wow. Oh…you…you feel so…so perfect. How do you feel this perfect?”
My thoughts mirrored hers. I know a lot of guys – and women for that matter – will tell you that pussy is pussy, and that they all feel pretty much the same when they are wrapped around your dick. To me, that’s like saying that wine is wine. It’s true only as far as it goes, and if you have the palate to differentiate, your experience will be much more rewarding than those who do not.
She held me, buried to the hilt in her as she literally thrummed around my cock, vibrating like a high-energy capacitor being charged to maximum. As her tunnel tightly grasped, pulsed, and fluttered on me, I became lost in the sensations, and wondered when in my life I had ever experienced anything so wonderous, so…perfect. Her body, against mine; the way we blended and flowed with each other; the smell and taste of her in the air around me; the sweet, wet vice that my cock was locked in.
And her eyes. When I looked into her eyes, I lost all sense of self. It wasn’t “I” in the moment, it was “We.” It was “Us,” and I knew that I loved her, and that she loved me, as crazy and improbable as that was.
As I held her there, buried as deep as I could be in her body, lost in the sensations that washed over me, she began to shake as the vibrations in her continued to grow. I don’t know if this was an orgasm per se, but it was obviously something that she wanted to ride as long as she could.
Finally, she closed her eyes, and groaned, and then lay back again, running her hands up my sides, then down to my hips again, where she pulled at them.
With a heavy breath, she said, “Make love to me, my sweet…”
I looked at her, lost in her eyes. I pulled out of her clasping well, slowly, before reversing course again. I wanted to hit every one of her pleasure zones, and I tried to find the same path into her to do so.
By the time I hit a steady rhythm I was in the groove. I was lightly taping her cervix every time and hitting what I felt sure was her A spot. As the widest part of my cock was the base, that also hit maximum stretch on her clitoral legs, and I pushed against her glans with by pubic bone. Lastly, I knew I was dragging the top of my dick across her G spot with every movement. Within a few minutes of varying my angle and speed, and listening to her body respond to me, I found the magic zone. Once I did, I put my thoughts in neutral and let my emotions guide me, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I poured my love and affection into another human being.
I started slow, and kept it there, although I increased the intensity and power of each thrust. The speed, though varied little, and I let my feelings drive me. I was kissing her face and her lips when she looked up at me with an incredible intensity.
She began to bite her lower lip. Her body began to vibrate again and this time her utterances were unintelligible cries and moans. This vibration, though seemed to be coming from somewhere deep in her belly, and I could feel her abs fluttering against mine as the rest of her body shook gently. She began to squint her eyes, until they closed, and then, her face stretching into a grimace that became a soundless scream, and every muscle in her body clenching, she held her breath until I thought she would pass out. Her legs began to shake and jerk, and the base of my cock and my balls were showered in streaming blasts of her hot girl cum, and she let out a loud shudder, then started gasping for air as she trembled, hanging onto me tightly.