Loading...He rose from his bed and stood in the dark, leaving her asleep in his bed. He looked out his bedroom window onto the street in a reverie of contentment, contemplating the events of the day. He remembered her kisses, remembered him inside her mouth. He remembered the sweetness of her pussy, remembered as she let him take her anal virginity earlier in the afternoon, her fear, her tears and her joy.
Standing over her sleeping form, her hair falling across her peaceful face, he leaned and kissed her forehead
________
A month ago, he found her in the park on a Saturday afternoon. She sat on a park bench, in the shade, reading Thomas Pynchon’s “V.” She looked up at him and smiled. He stopped his bike and took off his glasses.
“I just got finished with Gravity’s Rainbow,” he said.
“I think I’ve read all of Pynchon’s novels,” she replied.
“Did you see the Simpsons episode where Pynchon was teaching Marge to write?”
“Heh. The Harpooned Heart.”
“Too funny! … y’know, I don’t usually try to pick up beautiful women in the park, but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”
They walked across Clark Street, up Lincoln, to Ranalli’s. He had a weissbier. She had a salad and ice tea. The August sun beat down on the bustling patio, the kids on rollerblades swished by on the sidewalk, the sounds of the city wrapped around them. A wind blew in off the lake, stirring her skirt around her calves, fluttering the napkins off the table. She leaned over to pick one up, and he saw down her blouse, two pretty little breasts in a pale blue brassiere. She sternly looked up at him, as he rolled his eyes skyward, putting his hands up like Sgt Schultz, “I see no-thing! NO-THINK!”
She laughed in spite of herself. He was charming, intelligent and funny, there has to be something wrong with this guy, she wondered how long it would take her to find out. But for now, in this moment, he was perfect company, a delight. What would he be like in bed? Stop thinking this way. He’s just some cute guy on a bike.
They talked about books, and music, a little politics, where they had grown up. She was from Winnetka. He was from coastal Maine. Both had gone to business school, he to University of Chicago, she went to DePaul.
She kissed him when he got back on his bike.
___________
He sent her email.
She sent him voice mail at work.
He sent her flowers.
They talked, and talked, and talked.
They drank coffee all night, and walked along North Avenue Beach.
They went to hear jazz at Joe Segal’s Jazz Showcase.
They sneaked kisses in the Lincoln Park Zoo, in front of the zebras.
They fell in love.
__________
They met again at Nookies’ Restaurant for Sunday brunch. She wore shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. He wore faded black jeans and a Neil Gaiman Sandman t-shirt. Coffee, a big glass of juice and spinach omelettes, then the reading of the papers, her New York Times, his Chicago Tribune. After he paid the bill, they walked through Old Town, down by the Buddhist temple.
She kissed him again by the chessboards. Suspended in time, she felt a flush of desire, a knot unkinking in her chest, a pang of love strike her. Cupid, the mad god, is not some smiling infant putto from a Valentine’s Day card, to fall in love is to be shot through, painfully staggering, dumbstruck. She put her head on his chest and held him, as he stroked her hair, lifted her face to his and kissed her gently on the forehead, on the nose, on the mouth, she opened her mouth to him, their tongues met, tenuous, nervous. Her pussy bloomed, her hands clenched, she stirred.
She is Patti. With an i. She is the sort of nice girl who grew up with her face in a book. Listened to the art-rock bands and Prince while her friends were listening to B96 and the bubble gum boy bands. Couldn’t stand the boys in her high school, had a brief fling with a boy in college. When she realized he would never be a good match, she cheerfully dumped him. In B school, she’d met a guy who had really turned her on, but he couldn’t make her happy. And dumped him too.
He is Jamie. A good boy, his mother’s pride and joy. Bridgton, Maine, on the Atlantic coast, is tough country, and produces tough people, but Jamie was elegant. Every girl liked him, his long eyelashes and perfect mouth, his stringy body in running shorts, his way with words, the strange poems he wrote. His oil paintings he framed in woodshop. His teachers liked him, his odd precise vocabulary.
In short, had he tried to be popular, he could have. Instead, he studied, he ran, he wrote, and he went away to college, far from Bridgton, Maine. A few of the braver girls in high school had taken him in the woods and sucked his cock. Amanda from college had tearfully let him lay her down and fuck her, and she eventually grew to like it, but the relationship did not grow. Four years in the Army, a few nights with bar frauleins and Japanese yoruno-onna hardly counted, he could barely remember their names. He met a few girls in business school getting his MBA, but nothing clicked. Everyone was too busy, or the chemistry wasn’t right.
All afternoon, they walked, her hand in his, finally back to his apartment in Old Town. They walked up the two flights of stairs. He fumbled for his keys and opened the door. His cat came out to greet them, a bread colored tomcat. He picked the purring cat up, and scratched his ear.
“Meet Dmitri.,” he said. The cat purred. She gingerly petted him.
“Hey, how ya doin’, big guy?,” she asked. The cat looked at her with imperturbable green eyes, still purring.
She came in, a bit hesitantly, her arms behind her back. Bookshelves lined the walls.
Hanging over a long couch was a painting of a girl dressed in blue, walking on the sea, a cello floating submerged in the water, its bridge above the water, the f holes wriggling below the surface of the water, the girl’s face dreamlike, her arms held before her. His computer sat on a flat door in the hallway, a laptop, a hub sprouting a host of USB cables, a sheaf of photographs stacked beside a scanner, his cell phone charging on top of the monitor, a coffee cup beside a graphics tablet. High above, hung from the ceiling, a Chinese lantern lamp with its panes of painted glass and tassels. A good Isfahan carpet in the main room, four Victorian chairs around a circular table, a Victorian armchair, with padded arms, stood in the corner.
“Wow, these are really fine antiques, Jamie.”
“Lots of estate sales.” he said, opening a bottle of cold pinot grigiot. “Drink wine?”
“Only white”
“What luck. Try this stuff. PG is good for the soul, they say.”
She looked around his bookshelves, as he ejected a CD from his changer, and put in Bill Evans Trio, and hit randomize. He pressed play. The room came to life.
“Gloria’s Step” she said.
“When I hear this, ” he said, “I always see a pretty woman in a good dress, walking rapidly down the street, in a set of good shoes, not high heels. You know, a lot of guys think high heels are sexy, but I can’t stand high heels on women. A sadistic orthopedic surgeon must have invented them to induce ankle fractures in rich women.”
She laughed. “My worst ankle sprain I was in a pair of my Mom’s high heels. Wore them out on the sidewalk, and tripped up. I came in the house, crying, and my Mom was mad at me for breaking the heel.”
They sat at his table for a moment. “If I could return to any point in time, I’d go back to Greenwich Village on a hot June evening in 1961, order a glass of wine at the Village Vanguard, and hear Bill Evans and Paul Motian and Scott LaFaro play this live. Scott died in a car accident, not long after this was recorded. Bill Evans never really got over it, and didn’t play for almost a year. He grieved for Scott for years. Bill Evans. Heroin’s first poster boy.”
The song changed.
“This is Jade Dream. Scott LaFaro’s tune. Always wonder what could have happened if he’d lived.” He sat pensively, his hands together like a Hindu greeting, his elbows on the tabletop. “Makes you wonder. Life is so strange.”
She pulled his hands down and kissed his palms. He kissed the top of her head, the smell of her shampoo, the texture of her combed brunette hair, the heat of her hands on his wrists as she held them, the feel of her lips and teeth as she leaned over his hands.
He took her face in his hands, and lifted her to his mouth. He held the back of her head as he kissed her gently, then more forcefully, pulling her to him, her breasts against him, his arm around her waist like a dancer. She sobbed and looked away.
“This is too perfect. Something’s got to be wrong with you Jamie. I think I love you. I can’t help myself.”
And kissed him again, fiercely, pulling herself up to the tips of her toes. He softly bit her ear, her neck, the skin of her shoulder, the hollow of her neck, the upper curve of her breasts.
“Can I undress you?” he asked.
She nodded, dumbly, kicking off her shoes.
He unbuttoned her blouse, kissing her nipples inside her bra, her stomach, her pubis bone, he unbuttoned her shorts, she wriggled out of them, leaving her shuddering in her underwear.
He stood behind her, pulling her back to his chest, put his fingers between her legs, delicate fingers, probing fingers, touching her breasts, leaning her ass into the curve of his body, the crack of her ass felt the bulge of his penis through his pants, her panties sodden, he leaned her forward, putting his third finger into her vagina and touched her clitoris with his heel of his thumb. She pushed back against him, her head against his neck, in bliss. He whispered in her ear, “Oh, what a pretty body she has” and her mouth opened in a shattering orgasm, she leaned forward and staggered, whimpering, as his fingers played her like a classical guitarist’s rigid curved fingers, walking her forward a few steps as she came, his middle finger hooked into her, lifting her by her pelvis as she came. She wriggled away from his hooked grip, lay down on the couch, her face red and sweating, her mouth opening and closing as she regained her breath. He brought her glass of wine, she drank half of it in three gulps, thirstily, greedily. She wiped her forehead with her forearm, and grinned unsteadily.
She undressed him, pulling his t-shirt up over his head, sucking his nipples, pulling at his belt, pulling it out like a snake. Unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his pants down around his hips, she kissed his penis and licked it delicately, smelling it, holding his balls in her hand. She sat him down in the armchair, pulled off his shoes and pants, and knelt before him.
Gingerly holding his penis in her hands, mysterious thing, touching it gently, smelling his odor, feeling its length, kissing the tip, her small mouth wrapped around his cock, her hands feeling his ass.
Softly licking his frenulum, his hands like rough combs in her hair, tracing her ears, her breasts against his thighs, the warm breath from her nose blowing over his pubic hair. His hips began to move, his ass clenching, as he pushed gently into her mouth.
He came, a rush of bitter semen into her mouth, pumping hot from inside him, his body heaving, juddering, as her lips pursed around his member, her fingers toying with his balls. She swallowed, and licked him.
“Aaagh! Oh, stop, it’s so sensitive. Oh, please, Patti.” She looked up at him and grinned.
“Serves you right. Making me stand up and walk while I cum, hanging on your fingers. God. It’s so kinky.”
He went in the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He came out with a fluffy towel, and a bar of soap.
“Wanna wash your pretty body?”
“Only if you get in there with me.”
He soaped her body, starting with her neck and back, her breasts, her arms and legs. He washed between her legs. Standing behind her, he put his cock lengthwise between her buttocks, pressing up to her back, sliding up and down the soapy slick cleft, pulling at her nipples as he soaped her. Washing away the soap with the shower head, playing between her pussy lips, almost ticklish, his gentle hands, washing her armpits, she felt exquisitely vulnerable, almost a child.
He knelt down before her in the shower, and put his hands between her thighs, pressing them apart, opening her pussy to him. He inserted the point of his tongue into the Y, touching her clitoris, then spreading her wider, his tongue spread her labia, she felt dizzy as his fingers reached behind her and spread her buttocks, putting his index finger on her anus, delicately touching it. So nasty and clever, touching her ass. She shuddered and came again, sobbing in the shower, her back arched, her face to the ceiling, holding onto the shower rail for dear life.
He got out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on a bathrobe. While she dried herself off, he rummaged around in his closet, and came out with a long Japanese wrap-around robe. He put it around her shoulders, as she combed her hair with his brush.
“Mmmm. So nice. Is it silk?”
“It’s a yukata. Pongee. Ki Tsumugi.”
“I guess that means it’s silk”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his hand down the small of her back, over her butt. “Does great things for your ass.”
“You like my ass, don’t you?”
“It’s mighty fine, Patti.”
“I noticed you keep feeling at it. Pervert.”
“Now, how can I not like your ass? It’s just my kind of ass.”
“Ooh. Thanks. I think.”
“I have plans for your ass.”
“No you don’t. It’s dirty. It has to hurt. One girlfriend of mine told me it almost killed her.”
“Nah. Not the way I do it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. ” He combed his hair, standing behind her. “The secret is to let the girl run the show. I’m not into pain, giving or getting it. You say stop, I stop.”
“Would you, like, really fuck me?”
“Differently. It’s not like the porn movies. They don’t show you how to get ready. Most of the thrill is just getting you to let me, and your reactions, and how you feel about it. Remember, you’re in control. You have to talk to me.”
“I’ve always wondered what it’s like.”
“You want to do this? Let me do you in the ass? I’m not pressuring you to do this. It’s a big step, and you may not like this at all.”
“I’d like to try, with you, Jamie. You know how to please me. And you’re so gentle. Nobody ever touched me like you do, before. You’ve got kind hands. You make me want to do new things. Pervert.”
She hit him in the butt with her hairbrush. Laughting, she ran into his bedroom and crouched down behind the bed. He came in, pretended not to know where she was. He got down on the carpet and low-crawled around the corner of the bed. There she was, her butt to his face. He reached out one finger, and poked her ass with his finger, the silk jammed between her buttocks. She shrieked, grabbed her ass and stood up. He backed up, but before he could get to his feet, she had jumped on him, her legs across his waist, trying to pin him down. He rolled over, tipping her on her side, grabbed her and kissed her forehead. She wriggled a bit, trying to get away, but he kissed her mouth, and she moaned, putting her left leg over his body, turning him on his back, crouching over him. Flipping her yukata back, exposing her pussy, she rose on her knees, held his penis, and lowered her pussy onto his thick cock, groaning with pleasure as it rose into her body. Throwing her hair back, she rose on her knees, slowly lifting her body off his cock, sliding back down, the delicious friction, the feeling of her labia crushing down onto his pelvis. He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling her nipples back and forth. She ground her pussy on his pubic hair, leaning forward, her elbows on the carpet, kissing him, her tongue in his mouth. He reached up behind her, with both his hands, and delicately touched her tight asshole. She groaned into his mouth, pushing her butt back onto his finger. He held one cheek in each hand, raising and lowering her onto his pole.
“You’re the best, Patti ” he whispered in her ear. “I love the feel of you, the taste of you, the way you laugh. Everything about you. Don’t you ever go away. You’re my girl, Patti.”
Her mind and pussy opened to him like morning glories turn toward the sun. She could feel the petals opening, the giddy sense of unalloyed happiness, the first morning of summer vacation. The arrows of the mad god, piercing her heart, piercing up into her pussy, piercing her ass. She would do this for him, she would let him open her ass and love her there. She would. She wanted to. She wanted to feel him, to please him, to be his girl. He said so, didn’t he? Oh. There’s got to be something wrong with him. Maybe assfucking is what’s wrong with him. He might be mean. He might hurt me. No he’s not going to hurt me. He’s perfect. He drives me crazy. He makes me come standing up. I can’t stand it. I haven’t had this many orgasms with a man in my life.
And she came again, crouched over him, her hair hanging in his face.
She rolled off of him, her neck cramping from her orgasm, her pussy raw from her wild ride, her arms splayed out on the carpet, sweating, twitching, her legs open to the cool air. He turned his head to look at her. She looked at the ceiling, her chest heaving.
“You were fucking tremendous, Jamie.”
“Glad to be of service, madam.”
“You didn’t come”
“My refractory period is long.”
“Refractory?”
“It takes me a long time to come twice, half an hour minimum. Some men are like that.”
“Oh. Still want to do my butt, you pervert?”
“Pervert Jamie. Comin’ up behind you.”
“What a terrible pun.”
“O-pun your ass, darling.”
“Terrible.”
“You know you want it. Bad girls always do.”
“I’m not a bad girl. They just draw me that way.”
“Jessica Rabbit. What she ever saw in Roger Rabbit I’ll never know.”
“Maybe they fucked like bunnies.”
“Yeah right. I’ll bet she was playing pat-a-cake with Popeye the Sailor. Or maybe with Dick Tracy.”
“Heh, heh, heh… he said Dick.”
“Beavis and Butthead. Some intellectual you are.”
“Tell me about it, Mister Roger Rabbit pat-a-cake.”
He stood her up, and kissed her. He wrapped her in the yukata again, and put on his bathrobe. She came into the bathroom with him, as he opened up the medicine chest.
“What’s in there, lover boy?”
“Almond oil, if you must know, Miss Curious About What’s In People’s Medicine Chest.”
“And what do you intend to do with almond oil, Mister Pervert?”
“I intend to lovingly sodomize you, and introduce you to the joys of butt sex, my darling Patti. Nya-hah-hah!”
“You terrify me, sir. What if your schwantz does not fit into my tuchus?”
“How will you ever know, if you do not try? They say every woman has anal sex twice, the second time to see if it was as bad as she remembered it.”
“Very funny, Mister. Keep on going like this, and see if I’ll bend over for you at all.”
“But, darling, consider the joys of depravity, the sheer naughtiness of being gently sodomized by the man you love, your beautiful asshole wrapped around my cock, giving me all of your pretty body, oh the sordid pleasure of butt sex alone will bring you back again and again to this den of iniquity and into my perverted arms.”
“You’re so bad. What do you want me to do?”
“Take the pillows off the bed, and put one on the armchair.”
“Kneel on it. Put this pillow under your head. Are you comfortable?”
She put one knee on the chair, then the other, opening them, the air cooled her pussy. Nervously, she accepted the second pillow, and laid her head down on the top of the armchair, her breath trembling as when she was just a teenager being fucked for the first time. He lifted his yukata over her hips, over her bottom, her knees apart, the air conditioning making her a little cold, and feeling terribly exposed.
He put a very small quantity of almond oil in his hand, and smoothed it over her ass, her thighs, her waist, down toward her bush, between her legs, rubbing it into the skin, like lotion.
“Feels wonderful. Do my breasts.”
He reached under her, rubbing the oil between her breasts, lubricating her nipples, hardening instantly as his hands smeared the warm almond oil over her.
He gently put his penis against her pussy, just touching her labia, the soft oily mushroom rubbed lengthwise against her, the spring in his penis holding it against her pussy, up toward her clitoris. She flushed, her pussy woke up and swelled. Shifting her body, she caught his penis with her pussy, and it slid in a little bit, bumping her clitoris on its way in. The next stroke pushed up into her an inch, the next all the way in, slowly, easing it all the way, deep in, the outrageous feeling of fullness, pushing in and out of her vagina.
After a minute he pulled back, leaving her feeling empty. “Take a look at this,” he said.
“Looks like a big silver bullet.”
“It is a big silver bullet. It’s a dummy round from a 30 millimeter GAU gatling gun, from an A-10 aircraft. Got it at Grafenwoehr. Completely harmless. It’s got the most perfect conical point for opening you up. See how it’s nice and blunt at the tip? Using this thing, I can open your ass, slowly, painlessly. You’ll love it. I’ve used it on myself. You can trust me. Can I put it in you?”
“I’m a little scared. Tell me you’ll stop if I don’t like it.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Patti. You’re my girl. Put your fingers around it. This is what I’m going to put in you.
She gingerly touched the slick surface, its shiny chrome smoothness spread her thumb and forefinger apart.
“You’re putting this thing in my ass?”
“Yeah. I’m putting it in your ass. Up to the cartridge line.”
“Oh God.”
“Gonna let me do this, Patti?”
“Yeah, if it doesn’t hurt me. I’m trusting you not to hurt me.”
“Lean over, and play with your clitoris, Patti.”
She put her face back in the pillow, and touched her index finger to the hood of her clitoris. He put almond oil on the bullet, and touched her anus with his greasy finger, pushing the little sphincter like a button, round and round, tapping it gently, probing it with the meat of his index finger.
“Oh, this is so kinky.,” she said.
He touched the tip of the bullet to her sphincter. She flinched a little. He gently pushed it in, just enough to dilate her pucker a tiny bit. He took the bullet away, and put his penis in her asscrack, rubbing the head up and down, slipping up as far as her back, long strokes, no penetration, his hips jutting forward behind her, as she groaned into the pillow, her finger moving faster, her back arching and bending, the muscles of her ass and thighs rippling under her skin.
He put the bullet back into her bottom, about half an inch, dilating her bottom, pouring a little more oil onto her crack and the slowly pistoning bullet, pushing a little deeper, opening her a little wider.
“God, this is amazing.” she said. “This doesn’t hurt a bit. But it’s so nasty. I can’t believe you’re doing me in the butt with a bullet. Oh, God. I can feel it in my pussy. I feel so full. Oh God, how far have gone in?
“About halfway.”
“Every time you push it in, I feel like I have to poop. Oh… oh… it’s stretching me.”
“You do it for a while.”
She reached back and took the bullet in her hand. She slowly pushed it in, up to the cartridge line.
“There. Far enough.”
“It itches.”
“Let me do something. Pull it out.”
He went to the fridge and took out a cube of ice. “Hold still. This will be cold.” He rubbed the ice cube with his fingers, to get the piece wet, and put the ice cube up against her stretched anus.
“Oh, it feels so good.” she said.
He took the ice away, threw it in the sink, and brought her a towel to wipe herself. He hit the CD changer, and Modern Jazz Quartet came on, the melancholy strains of Dido’s Lament.
“Lovely” she said, turning around, sitting on the towel, wrapping the yukata around her. “What is it?”
“Purcell. When I am Laid in Earth. Dido and Aeneas. Know the legend?”
“Yeah. Dido. She was the queen of Carthage. Loves Aeneas, he leaves her, she commits suicide.”
“She loves Aeneas too much. He can’t handle it.”
“I think I love you too much, Jamie. Letting you put it in my poor ass.”
“You loved it. Mostly did it to yourself.”
They sat in silence, drinking the wine, listening to the music, the sounds of the traffic below them.
“Have you really put the bullet up your ass, Jamie?”
“Yeah. Sometimes, when I masturbate.”
“Have you ever done it with a guy?”
“No. But I’ll tell you this, the ass is the most neglected part of the body. All those lovely sensory nerves, so much fun people never want to have. Most people don’t have a clue how much pleasure the ass can be.”
“My last boyfriend wouldn’t touch my ass. He was a boob guy. And as you can see, I’m not the most well endowed girl in the boob department. I always hated it when he would look at those girls with boob jobs so obvious it wasn’t funny.”
“You’re beautful to me.. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever been close to.”
“I can’t believe I just had a bullet in my ass. Can I get a Purple Heart?”
They both laughed. He went to the fridge again. “Want more wine?,” he asked, his head in the fridge.
“I guess so. What was I was drinking?”
He came out, his bathrobe flapping around his knees. “Pinot Grigiot.”
“Seducing my poor butt with Pinot Grigiot. How could you?”
“Nya-hah-hah.” He poured her some more wine, poured himself a generous slug. “Here’s to you and me. Going where man has never gone before.”
“Cheers. You pervert.”
“Pervert yourself. I saw you enjoying it. You don’t fool me. Let me put the wine back in the fridge.”
When he came back, she was kneeling on the pillow again, his yukata bunched up around her waist, the curves of her naked backside open to him. He turned down the dimmer switch even lower, almost off. Her mouth was half in the pillow below her head as she said, “Jamie, I want you to fuck me in the ass. I want to do this for you… Jamie? …. do you love me?”
“I do love you, Patti. You’re my girl. I wouldn’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m sort of afraid.”
“I couldn’t bear to hurt you. You’re my girl, you’re wearing my yukata. You’re the finest girl I’ve ever made love to. No lie. I’m going to give you a code word. If it hurts too much, I want to to say ‘green’. I’m not going to stop for anything else. I’m going to fuck you in the ass, It will hurt some, but it’s worth it. This is going to hurt, a little. Just like losing your cherry. I’m going to make it as easy on you as I can. Still want to do this? Just say ‘green’, and I’ll stop. And we’ll play some other game. Clear on this?”
“Uh, huh. Green means stop” she said, her mouth almost muffled in the pillow.
He oiled himself, and oiled the bullet again. Gradually sawing the bullet again into her anus, he added more oil, putting his oiled index finger into her rectum, as she softly cried into the pillow, her breasts shaking, her buttocks clenching around his finger, more oil, the bullet again, her hands clutched her own buttocks, spreading them apart. He oiled his penis, and placed the bulb against her anus, gently probing her, his meat slowly entering the tight ring of flesh. She lifted her head and openly sobbed, her fists clenched beside her face, then her right hand darted down between her legs, to her clitoris, feverishly rubbing herself.
“Oh, you bastard. Oh you bastard. Fucking my ass. It hurts.”
“Not until you say green.”
“I know. It’s so intense. Don’t stop.”
He pulled out and re-oiled himself. Putting his hands on her hips, he gently maneuvered himself up to her inner sphincter, pushing back and forth, against the stubborn ring.
“This is the tough part, baby. Push out, like you’re pooping. And the pain will stop.”
She screamed sharply into the pillow, summoned her will, relaxed herself, and pushed back slightly, his penis rushed in, past the sphincter. He pulled back again. She began to cry again, the tears running down her cheeks.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. You’ve really fucked my ass. Oh my God. Don’t stop now.”
He pulled out, she felt an enormous rush of pleasure as he withdrew, a sucking emptiness. He re-oiled himself, and gently pushed back in, gently nudging her inner ring, rocking against it, slowly pushing it open. She bawled, sobbing into the pillow, pushing herself back against him, oh, oh, and lifted her ass, her toes flexing, as he pried open her last resistance, the thickness of his penis stabbing into her bowel, she breathed in and screamed into the pillow, one, two, again and again, as he traversed the last distance into the darkness of her rectum, the consuming feeling, Jamie’s white hot pushing penis her entire focus, the pleasure of the motion of his cock sawing her guts, the final push, all the way in, his pelvis crushing against the soft curve of her buttocks, the perfect realization of his throbbing penis spurting hot semen into the void of her bowel, her finger on her clitoris pushed fiercely down, and she bit into the pillow, a deep-throated cry, as she came again, jerking, her anus spasming against the circumference of his penis, clamping painfully down on him, her entire body writhing and cramping, her little breasts swaying, her feet pointing down like a ballerina en pointe, her blazing soul, wrapped around him, her knees flexed, her ass on fire.
He slowly withdrew, taking the corner of the towel to wipe her ass, her anus flexing, spasming, open. He squeezed her shoulderblades, and murmured in her ear “It’s all over. It’s all over. You’re my girl, Patti. You done good.”
She got up from the chair, and staggered into the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet, still crying. She blew her nose while she sat there, cum leaking from her rectum, looking up tearfully at him as he turned on the shower.
“C’mere, sweetie.”
He stood her in the shower, washing her back, massaging her under the warm water, her cramped muscles relaxing, her palms against the shower wall, rinsing her ass and pussy with the showerhead.
“It really did hurt.”
“I said it would.”
“I came, you know.”
“Nobody cums their first time.”
“I really did. One of the best orgasms of my life.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, really. You’re amazing, Jamie.”
She turned around and kissed him, putting her tongue into his mouth, probing him, pulling him to her naked body, her breasts pressed against him, her crotch pushed toward him.
“I can’t believe we did it. You took my anal virginity, and made me like it.”
“You’ll remember me every time you sit down this week.”
“I think you’ll remember me for the rest of your life. Cause I’m not going away, you pervert.”
“Oh, really?”
“You bastard. I think I love you.,” standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.
___
They sat on the couch, open boxes of order-in Chinese food in front of them on the coffee table. Patti slept contentedly against Jamie’s shoulder, his arm around her, Dmitri the cat jumped up on the table, sniffed at the remains of the moo shoo pork.
“Get outta there, Dmitri.”
The cat looked back at him. While Jamie carried Patti to his bed, and tucked her in, Dmitri stole a chunk of pork and ran under the sofa to eat his prize. Jamie put the dinner away in the fridge. He turned off the lights, and crept into bed beside her. Sounds of traffic outside, the shifting lights on the ceiling. Dmitri the cat came in, and curled up at Patti’s feet.