Arrow of Cupid Ch. 02

Preface: I am astonished at the volume of positive response to the first Jamie and Patti story. Your encouraging words have made me come to believe there is a place for this sort of heartfelt emotion in erotica, you know who you are. In answer to a repeated question, Jamie and Patti are not real people.

Anal sex is by far the most intimate and intense encounter in the entire sexual inventory. I chose this genre because it was the most difficult to write correctly, and because a great deal of unwise, unrealistic and patently unsafe nonsense has been written about it.

I write love into my stories, because I must.

...

Monday morning came early. Jamie rose from his bed and shambled to the bathroom. The sound of the shower woke Patti. He came back into the bedroom, his towel draped over his shoulder. Dmitri stood up, stretched his back and yawned, his little fangs showing, and marched off to the kitchen. Patti lay in bed, naked, the sheets pulled up to her chin, grinning.

"Slug.", he said. "Are you going to get up?"

"I am up."

"No, you're not. You're lying in bed."

"I can't get up. There's a naked man in the room."

He wiggled his penis at her. "Naked man." He dived at her, wrestling and tickling her, she shrieked and tried to get away. It was no use. Soon he had her pinned on her back beneath him. He stooped and kissed her mouth. She put her arms around his back, and moaned into his mouth. They lay there, writhing in the sheets. Her leg came out and wrapped around his body. She reached for his cock.

"Fuck me, naked man."

He opened her legs with his thigh, and entered her, with no foreplay, just a simple entry, clean and swift. She sighed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He slowly withdrew, and entered her again. The two of them gently wrestled, her head against his shoulder as he took her, his buttocks clenching, his thighs powerfully moving. His body rested on her, his hands in her hair.

"Let me get on top" she muttered in his ear.

He withdrew, and rolled on his back.

"Naked man", she whispered, as she came to her knees, taking his cock in her fist. "I love you, naked man." She straddled him, taking him again, guiding his cock into herself. She sank down onto him, leaned forward, his hands on her breasts. Her pace quickened, she arched her back and began to ride him in earnest. Her breasts jiggled prettily as she gathered her will and came, her voice thick with lust, her hands touching her breasts, her hair flying in the air. Coming to a stop, she lay down onto his chest, kicking her legs out from under herself.

He felt her wild heart beating, her body on top of him, the rise and fall of her chest. The seconds ticked by, Dmitri jumped up onto the bed and meowed into Jamie's face. Jamie reached out and grabbed the cat, hugging him to them. Dmitri purred, wriggled away, his butt and tail visible as he bounded off the bed.

"Dmitri's jealous.", she said

"Dmitri's hungry. With Dmitri, his stomach comes first. You know what he was saying? Give me my stinky food. Speaking of food, I'm hungry."

"I'm taking a shower.", she said, sitting on the side of the bed.

"You know where everything is, I hope."

She came out of the shower and dried herself, looking at herself in the mirror. She found last night's clothes where he had neatly laid them, She found her panties, went to the living room to find her bra and clothes where he had laid them, and finished dressing.in yesterday's clothes, The smell of good coffee came from the kitchen. He came into the bathroom, fished around in a drawer.

"Aha", he said, "a clean toothbrush, still in its box." She opened it, and brushed her teeth, while he returned to the kitchen. The smell of toasting bread, and... bacon?" Her stomach growled. She was suddenly ravenous. As she came into the kitchen he slid an omelette off a frypan onto a plate.

"Will wonders never cease? You can cook, too?"

"Mmm. How do you take your coffee, cream only?"

"How do you know?"

"I've only watched you drink five dozen cups at Nookies'"

The two of them sat at his kitchen, silently wolfing down the omelette and toast. Dmitri ate his stinky food from his dish.

"How's your ass?"

"Well, I know I was fucked there, if that's what you mean. Doesn't hurt, really. Just an odd sort of feeling, I'm aware of it, but it doesn't really bother me."

"That's a relief. I worried about that. How do you feel?"

"Jamie, stop worrying. I loved it. I'm okay. I'm not a China doll."

"That's me, always worrying."

"I remember your joke about every woman having anal sex twice. I would like to do it again, when the time is right."

"Mmm. Not too soon. I'm not an ass freak, I like the total package."

They put their dishes in the dishwasher. Jamie finished dressing, chinos, a white shirt and a tie. It was still relatively early, Jamie strapped on his watch.

"I need to get home and change for work."

"Let's cab it to your place, then I can take it to work. When do you have to get to work, Patti?"

"At nine. Still plenty of time."

He locked the door to the apartment. They walked down the stairs, hailed a cab. On the way to her apartment, Jamie kissed him again.

"I'm going to work, smelling like pussy, you know.", he said.

"You mean, smelling like dick", she replied.

"Dick? Dick? Let the evidence show the plaintiff demanded to be fucked with my just-washed penis, as clean as Ivory Soap can get it. The secretary at the front desk will say 'Good morning, Jamie' and then tell her girlfriends at lunch, 'Jamie came in this morning, with the ripe odor of pussy all over him, I wonder who he's boning now.' "

"A girl wouldn't say that. A girl would say you smelled like dick. Let them wonder. They had their chances. You belong to me, you and your smelly dick."

"Ooh, you're so possessive. Greedy thing."

"Oh, please. The dick, at least, belongs to me. Motion for possession."

"A sorry state of affairs, this, when a man's dick belongs to someone else. Property law covers this somewhere."

"Have to be personal property. Chattels. Not moveable property. I'd still be attached to the cock."

"Deposit of effects creates obligation, Jamie."

"Motion for possession denied. Thirteenth Amendment says, 'Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude'"

"Ah, but it continues, 'except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted', and you could be charged with sodomy."

"Thought this was a chattels case. Separate charge. And sodomy is legal in this state anyway. Strike that utterly irrelevant remark from the record."

"I'll strike you", she said, and spanked his thigh.

He kissed her again, as the cab pulled up to her apartment building.

...

Jamie and Patti met again at Nookies' restaurant, on Friday afternoon after work. She waved at him, put down her briefcase, and hugged him.

"What are we doing tonight?" she asked.

"Thought about going to see some jazz again. Let's order food, then walk up to The Bulls and catch a few sets by Art Parker.

The pretty waitress took their order. They made small talk, eating between sentences.

"I think the first set starts at eight", he said.

"Want to go like we are, or get changed? I have to get rid of this briefcase, anyway."

"Fine. Let's walk over to your place, and cab it over to The Bulls."

Meal finished, he paid, they walked hand in hand down Wells Street and east toward Inner Lake Shore Drive to her apartment building. Into the lobby, waiting for the elevator, he kissed her again. The elevator door opened, they stepped inside. She pressed 21. The doors closed, they were alone. She pressed herself to him. Their mouths locked in a tender kiss. Her hand strayed to his crotch, holding him delicately, rubbing him through his pants. The elevator rose, the lights winked as they rose. The doors opened, she grabbed his hand, pulling him down the dimly lit hallway, to her door. Reaching in her purse, she unlocked the door.

To the left was her kitchen. Ahead was her living room with a view of the lake, four sailboats sailing south. Clean, sparse, Nordic, her tastes were simple and elegant. On one wall, in a mahogany frame, a large lithograph of a country landscape, richly detailed, a barn, a farmhouse, a farmer plowing a field. By a stream, a tiny snake sunned himself. Beyond the farm, the woods and hills stretched out. He peered at the image through the glass.

Patti came out of her bedroom, in a long blue sundress. She came up behind him, and looked over his shoulder.

"That's by Susan Hunt-Wulkowitz. I bought that from her on Fullerton. Cost me a ton, but it's my favorite piece by her. She exhibits at Old Town Art Fair every year. You won't find this for sale anymore."

"Look at the plowlines in the field. That wouldn't be done by a horse-drawn plow. Those plowlines would have been done by a tractor-drawn plow."

She smacked him. "It's always something with you, country boy. Come here, you."

She led him to the center of the carpet, unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. She knelt down before him, unzipped him and pulled his pants around his thighs. She took his penis in her hand.

"Mind if I give you a blowjob, country boy?"

"Oh, lord. What have I done to deserve this?"

She inhaled the scent of him, fondling the length of him, putting the whole thing into her mouth, the length of him. He stiffened against her wet tongue, a near-magical transformation, as he erected into the loving warmth of her mouth. She held his hips and suckled him, holding his balls gingerly in her hand. She opened her mouth, and licked the length of his erect penis, then took one of his balls in her mouth, her tongue caressing, possessing. Her tongue felt the hairs of his scrotum and the wrinkles of him. He was warm and hard, the ovoid shape of his testicle, his trembling thigh against her cheek. Yes, his cock did belong to her, this beautiful man and his desire. Happy, deeply moved by his desire, in the late afternoon light, she made love to his cock, licking him, bringing him at last to a trembling satisfaction, the pleasant flavor of his semen in her mouth, rich and almost sweet. How different cum tastes, from one day to the next! Why had his previous cum been bitter? Perhaps he hadn't had a decent cum in a while before he first came in her mouth. Something he ate? She laughed secretly to herself, swallowing him. Problem solved, she would keep him in regular cums for the foreseeable future. She was no China doll. She was his lover, her heart cried out for him. She stood and opened his mouth, inserting two fingers and his tongue touched them, licked them, his lips closed around them. She stood proudly before him, the taste of his cum in her mouth, her heart surging, confident in her power over his desire. What he wanted, she would give him. Anything. Oh, anything. For Jamie, she would do anything.

They dressed and left, out into the street, and found a cab.

Jamie and Patti descended the stairs into The Bulls, subterranean, smoke swirling near the ceiling. They found a table near the stage, against the wall. He ordered a beer. She ordered a glass of Riesling. The band set up, lugging in amps, drums, a standup bass, a Kurzweil keyboard. Cables came out of bags, connected to gear with the idle precision of repetition, the drum kit assembled, cymbals hung and placed. Art set up his wind controller gear, a short rack of synth boxes, reverbs and pre-amps, pulsing in red, green and yellow like a Christmas tree. Taking his instrument from its case, looking roughly like a clarinet, Art plugs in, and plays an impossibly perfect eight octave run, his thumb walking the octave keys, far more than a sax or clarinet.

Sitting in the shadows, Jamie leans Patti against him, his hand crooks around her shoulder. Her head is erect, watching the patrons take their places. From other tables, women look at Jamie and Patti, so obviously in love.

New love is beautiful above all things in life. Springing from the rich ground of youth, like American Beauty roses in late spring, powerful, growing swiftly, emerald green, setting buds and flowering prodigiously in the early summer sun, red and rich as blood. New love is unmistakeable, magnificent in its simplicity, two people next to each other, in the dim chiaroscuro of The Bulls.

At the end of the second set, Jamie got the waitress and paid the tab. Leading Patti up the narrow steps, out into the night air and yellow streets, Jamie felt almost giddy, Patti by his side, her hand in his. The sound of her sandals on the concrete of the sidewalk was the loveliest thing he had heard all night, a feminine step.

"Let's go back to my place, what do you say, Jamie? I know your place is closer."

"Why not? Sounds like a plan."

"I'm glad. Come up and see me sometime."

"Mae West"

"A hard man is good to find."

"Heh, more Mae West"

Out onto Lincoln Avenue, ino the night air, they hailed a cab in the Friday night southbound traffic. She lay on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her hair. She lay against him, as the cab went down Wells.

Up to her apartment, she leaned against him, her hand rubbing his back. He was warm. His starched shirt was smooth, moving under her hand. She felt oddly comforted by the gesture, her arm wrapped around him, he kissed the top of her head. The door opened, they went down the hallway. She unlocked the door, they walked to the window, watching the traffic moving below on Lake Shore and the red winking light of the water crib far out in the black lake.

"This really is a wonderful view", he said.

"It should be, I pay enough for it."

She turned on the kitchen light. "Want anything cold?"

"A glass of white, if you've got it."

"Aha. Laid in some pinot grigio, part of my nefarious plan to get you up here." "Castello Banfi, Tuscan wine", she said, sipping her own glass, handing him his glass. "Not expensive, wonderful stuff. Since I started seeing you, I've been trying to learn about whites."

"What do you usually drink?"

"Reds, merlots mostly. Rodney Strong when I can get it"

"People who call expensive merlot a snob wine are just mad because they can't afford it. Lot of horrible merlots, too, best used to tan shoe leather", he said.

"I got used to the good stuff with my Dad.", she said

"What's he like?"

Her face brightened, looking into the dark, "He's a good man. I was Daddy's little girl, adored him as a child. Resented him as a teenager, went off to college, came back, and he became my best friend. Well read, sort of tweedy type, everything put away, gourmet cook, loves art, books and music. You remind me a bit of him, you know."

"Quite a compliment. Your mother?"

"Soccer mom, a real joiner, PTA, reading clubs, you name it. Good taste, expensive simple clothes, loves my father to death. Got a good education, didn't do much with it."

"She raised you. That's the good thing she did with it."

"That's so sweet, Jamie."

She put her wine glass down, and began to unbutton his shirt. "Jesus, Jamie, you are a handsome man." Her face against his chest, her mouth against his nipple, she licked him "There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for you."

His fingers curled into her hair, his mouth against the top of her head. "You are wonderful to me. For you, I will do anything, Patti."

"Fuck me. Just fuck me. That'll do fine."

He took off his shirt, and unzipped her sundress. She shrugged it off, picked it up and threw it on the couch. He kicked off his shoes as she began to unbuckle his belt. Pushing him down on the couch, she took off his shoes and socks. Pulling him to his feet, she unbuckled his pants. Putting her finger in his zipper, she slowly pulled it down, and pulled his pants down.

"I love undressing you, Jamie. Always let me undress you."

Standing in their underwear, they kissed, her fingers finding their way into his boxers, to his ass, holding him, pushing him to her. Thrusting her pelvis forward, she ground into him, moaning into his mouth as his fingers unbuckled her brassiere. There they stood, in her living room, joined, his hands exploring into the back of her panties.

"This way, handsome man," she said as she led him by the hand into her bedroom.

Her bed was covered in a white coverlet and four pillows in white cotton pillowcases. Her bedstand was covered in books, a copy of Anais Nin, Delta of Venus on top.

On her wall, in a purple frame, hung a print of Gauguin's Spirit of the Dead Watching. The painting showed a dark woman lay on her face on a yellow blanket. From the left, a strange hooded woman gazed balefully with a luminescent eye on the woman on the bed. A riot of purple and pink, with white explosions formed the background of the painting. In black, Gaugin's painted script: Manao tupapau. The tupapao spirits watch.

She pulled him down, onto the bed. She lay beside him and held his face, kissing him fiercely. His hands went to her breasts, taking off her brassiere, manipulating her nipples. Her tongue entered his mouth and found his tongue. She rolled on top of him, her face descended to his nipples, kissing them, licking them. They rolled and kissed, hands everywhere, in her hair, in his boxers, around each other.

Rolling him over, her fingers curled into the elastic of his boxers. He raised his hips and she pulled down his boxers around his thighs. She held his cock in her hand, she licked it, kissed it and her mouth enveloped it, strongly sucking, his hands in her hair. Groaning, he pushed up, into her mouth as her tongue swirled around him.

Rising from him, she kissed his mouth, his hands pulling down her panties and she kicked them off. Kneeling over him, she held his cock in her hand, straddled him, and sank down slowly, firmly impaling herself on him. Holding her hips, he rose against her, straining to completely fill her, grinding against her. Raising his knees against her ass, he leaned her forward and she moaned, her head flung back, her eyes half closed in bliss.

Pulling her body down against his, he whispered in her ear, telling her how tight she was around him. Whimpering, she pushed down against him, as he encouraged her to cum. She put her hands on his chest, lifted herself, and bounced on him. The urge collected, she arched and called out sharply as the orgasm seized her. She trembled, almost weeping, as the orgasm shook her. Gasping, she lay down against his chest, clutching him fiercely.

"Jesus, that was a good one, Jamie. Tell you what, I've got an idea."

"What has your wicked mind conceived, Patti?"

"It's wicked all right. I remember you telling me you put that bullet in yourself. I want to put something in you, too. Ever since you fucked my ass, I've been putting it in my own ass."

"That would be different. I think I'd like that."

"Turn over, big guy."

"Be gentle, okay?"

"Mwahaha. Let me put some pillows under you.... gawd your ass is so fine, Jamie, up in the air like that."

"What have I gotten myself into this time?"

"You only have yourself to blame for turning me into an ass freak"

Reaching into her nightstand, she pulled out a slim blue dildo and a little bottle of oil. He watched, fascinated, as she smoothed the oil onto her fingers and the dildo.

"It's almond oil, like you used on me. I love the feeling of almond oil. I've been dreaming of doing this to you for a week. You really are a sport, letting me do this."

"Well, turn about is fair play, I suppose."

She pulled off his boxers and caressed his ass with an oily finger, exploring down to the pucker, touching him gingerly. Excited and aroused, the fingers of her left hand touched her clitoris, as the index finger of her left hand slowly pushed into his bottom. He groaned as the finger slid into him.

"Does that hurt you, Jamie?"

"No, it's wonderful. Take your time."