Canon Ch. 10byinvictus17©
Jeff looked down and smiled. Amy lay on the couch and in his arms, and she was sleeping. She looked like a child in her pink flannel jammies.
The Canon in D, with the astonishing James Galway on flute, was just ending on the CD player; another version with a full orchestra began a moment later.
Jeff studied his wife's face as the basses began their eight solemn and endlessly repeated notes. The tones echoed through the big old house, and Jeff smiled again. Up close, he could see tiny hints of days to come; a faint crease at the corner of her eye, a touch of softness at her jawline. Even a single gray hair above her ear. The ominous thrum of the bass viols was appropriate - relentless, deliberate, as implacable as the passage of time.
But - blink, and she was still the lovely girl that he and his father had fallen in love with.
Jeff considered that. She was so very, very lovely - a classic beauty who would have knocked 'em dead at any time in history. Was he shallow, to adore that about her and desire her so much?
He smiled gently as the violas began their counterpoint. No, he thought. Her beauty is a miracle - but the greater miracle is that she seems unaware of it, even now. There's no hint of vanity in her nature.
His smile grew wider. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, or ever would; but it wasn't her face or her body that held him. He stroked her cheek lightly, not waking her. It was her heart that he loved. Her soul. Who she was.
That - and that her love for him was absolute, her devotion total. Amy trusted him as only one who had never been hurt could trust. His dad, Geoff - whom he had never met - had seen to that, and so would he. He would die before he'd hurt her, and he'd kill before he'd let someone else do it.
He cuddled her gently, and she smiled in her sleep and nuzzled his chest with her cheek as the violins soared above the clouds.
God, he loved her.
A little boy in plaid pajamas ran into the room. "Da- oops." The child shushed himself when he saw his mother asleep. He looked at her and grinned. "Dad," he resumed in a whisper, "Can I play on the XBox? It's Friday."
"You have to be up early for Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow," Jeff whispered back to his stepson and half-brother. He cocked an eyebrow knowingly at the boy. "Would your mom let you?"
The third-grader smiled wryly, a remarkably adult expression, and ran his hand through his mop of curly black hair. "Maybe..." he said.
His father smiled back. "Half an hour, Harry. Then lights out."
"Okay," breathed the boy. "Thanks, Dad." He stepped closer and kissed his mom's hair. "Tell her goodnight for me," he whispered, then scampered - there was no other word for it - back to his room.
Eight years old and sharper than I am on my best day, thought Jeff. I love that kid.
Amy stirred in his arms. He looked down to see her disconcerting eyes, deep brown and pale blue, looking up into his. Even after nine years of marriage and two more children, they still made his heart stop and his mind go blank when she looked at him.
"I heard that," she murmured, smiling. "You're such a softie."
"Enh. If he wasn't such a good kid, I wouldn't have let him. In half an hour, he'll turn it off and go to sleep."
She smiled. "He will, won't he?" Then she blinked. "Where are the twins?"
"Drifting happily through the wondrous halls of Dreamland," he said. "Long since."
She smiled. "There you go getting all literary again." She snuggled closer. "I love it when you do that."
He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. "Verily, you have bewitched me, my lady..."
"With thy luminescent beauty..."
"Thy lovely, graceful manner..."
"Thy sweetly generous, loving nature..."
"And thy perky boobies."
She laughed and slapped his arm. "Not as perky as they once were," she demurred.
The peak of her left nipple was clearly visible through her pajamas, and he gave it a gentle tweak. "Owch!" she squeaked.
"They're just as beautiful as the first time I saw them," he said quietly. "Maybe even more so."
She cocked her head. "You mean that, don't you?"
They smiled at each other. The CD player began a horn version of the Canon that neither of them cared for, and Jeff rose to turn it off as Amy sat up.
He turned to look at her kneeling on the couch, sleepy, tousled and cute. "Want to play tonight?" he asked.
"Let's save it for tomorrow," said Amy, snuggling close when he sat down again. "It's going to be epic, honey. I'm so hungry to get crazy with you."
He squeezed her. "You're incredible," he said for the ten-thousandth time.
"You too," she breathed, and kissed him. "I love the kids, but -"
"Me too," he whispered back. "But I'm glad they have these weekends with your parents - and we have some time alone."
They spoke without words for a while, mouth to mouth.
Jeff and Amy had named their son Harold, after his father's old commander. Harry took after his father; all boy, tough and reluctant to cry - but he also had his father's iron integrity. He never lied, even when small.
Two years later, Amy gave birth to twin girls, Rachel and Rebecca. One had brown eyes, the other blue; otherwise they were identical. They were very much "girly girls," preferring silk to denim and lacy frills to T-shirts. They had the rumored "bond" that twins sometimes do - when one fell, the other cried out, even if they were miles apart. They seemed to communicate without words, with looks that carried volumes.
At six, they were better readers than their older brother. One might have expected Harry to resent that, but he was perfectly comfortable with their helping him and even tutoring him a bit. He was their protector, and they were his teachers. "Harry is the muscle and R & R are the brains," Jeff liked to say.
The five of them lived happily in the big old antebellum house, where there was much laughter and an atmosphere of warmth and love. The kids rarely quarreled, and when they did it was usually over in minutes. Their parents were fully engaged as parents - not something that can be taken for granted today. Both Jeff and Amy had good relationships with the kids - warm, trusting, and firmly in charge.
But they didn't neglect their own relationship with each other, either. Intimacy was a given; they felt as close when shopping for groceries as they did in bed. That was because their faith in each other, their trust, was total. In bed and elsewhere, they were both givers, not takers - and it showed.
One weekend a month, the three children were picked up by Amy's parents to spend a few days at their home, and the two lovers could do as they chose. Amy no longer played "slave girl" very often - Jeff didn't care for that game as much as she did - but they had other games.
Fantasy was hardly necessary, anyway. They had learned each other's tastes and desires, and delighted in pleasing each other. Amy had accumulated a collection of sexy sandals; Jeff liked to see her in those and nothing else. For his part, Jeff learned to ride the Harley so Amy could still enjoy the pleasures of the rear seat. They had other games, of course, all their own.
Next morning, the three giggling children were bundled into Frank and Ellie's SUV amid much hugging and kissing, and the lovers waved as the car full of laughing kids and grandparents pulled out of the gate. They waited, watching, till the gate closed - then turned on each other like hungry animals.
Better than a regular weekend; this was a three-day weekend, and the kids wouldn't be back till Tuesday. If it had been a few days more, they'd have flown to Juicy Island for a few days in Eden, but they took what they could get.
They sat on the couch and just made out like teenagers for a while, kissing and touching each other in warm silence. There was no hurry.
"Mmmm... Love you...."
"Mmm... Mmme too..."
A bit later:
"Let's go swimming."
He blinked down at her. "Okay," he said, with an air of puzzlement. After a moment, he grinned. "Oh! No suits required!"
They stripped in the living room and ran, naked and laughing, across the yard to the pool. They jumped in with simultaneous cannonballs, rose from the water laughing, and were soon in each other's arms again.
If Amy's idea was to put off their inevitable lovemaking and just enjoy each other's company for a while, it didn't work. Her bare, perfect curves all but glowed in the sunlight, and the feel of wet bodies wasn't exactly conducive to calm patience. They were soon writhing on the grass beside the pool, fucking like bunnies.
"G-god, you're big," she breathed, as she had so many times before. Jeff apparently hadn't grown any smaller.
"And you're so w-wet," he gasped, pumping. "A-all over..."
He took her into his arms and rolled over, and Amy abruptly found herself on top. She shivered and drew her feet up, squatting on him, and began to lever her pale, beautiful ass up and down on him as her mouth sought his. It was a dance they danced well.
"L-let's g-g-go in the house," he gasped, staring at her softly bouncing, gently quivering breasts.
"Let me cum once first," she said, breathless herself. "Then we c-can g... Oh, God... Oh, God, Jeff, I'm cumming...."
She clung to him and shuddered convulsively as she orgasmed, her pussy suddenly juicy on his steel-hard cock. He held her, and somehow held his own orgasm back as he felt her slippery muscles spasming and squeezing on his dickhead. They clung together and shook for minutes, using all the art they had taught each other to make it last, and Jeff heard Amy's tiny whimpers as the hurricane shook her to the core.
He carried her into the bedroom after. She liked that. She nuzzled his chest and murmured, "Hours and hours with nothing to do but make love," she whispered.
He squeezed her as he carried her up the hall and into their bedroom - the big one, the one that had once been hers, but never slept in. The big canopy bed was waiting.
Jeff tossed his wife onto the bed, and she bounced, laughing. Her lovely breasts bounced too, and she shook them at him gaily. Jeff gaped in amazement, as he always did at her shameless sexual displays. "Rrr," he growled. "Spread 'em, baby."
Amy giggled and pulled her knees back and wide apart, rolling her wet, hairless cunt upward at him. Jeff growled again and slid on top of her, and her arms slipped round his back as he thrust his still-stiff erection all the way into her hot, liquid center in one electrifying stroke. Her strange eyes rolled back to show only the whites, then closed - and she shivered as he began to slide in and out of her again.
As always, Amy marveled at the way she could feel the flaring rim of his cockhead sliding up and down inside her squeezing, grasping pussy tube - and she knew that it felt just as exquisite to him.
She squeezed him with her talented and practiced fucking muscles. "Can you feel that?"
"Ggg," said Jeff eloquently. He was staring down at her face, his mouth hanging open, his breath raspy. He was pounding her hard, slamming his bristly pubes into her smooth, pink crotch, reaming out her juicy pussy with his bursting meat. "G-gonna cum," he gasped.
Amy giggled and pulled her pretty bare feet back to either side of her face. "Oh, Jeffie, squirt it in me - cum in my pussy, real hard - give it to me - oh, fill my hole with your sperm -"
Jeff shuddered and gave it up as she ground her cunt round and round on his cock, squeezing and squelching her sloppy-wet hole as he spasmed and blasted his thick load deep inside her. "L-love you," he gasped as he shot again and again. "Love you, baby..."
"I'm gonna cum all over your big dick now, Jeffie," she gasped in a whisper. "Don't stop - " and then she did cum, harder than before.
Jeff was still shooting in her pussy as she began to strain and shake; and he somehow kept on fucking her as she jerked and shivered in her orgasm. The feel of her fluttering pussy walls on his sensitive, just-cum cock was maddeningly intense, and before Amy was done climaxing on his cock, he was shooting inside her again.
Which set her off again as well, of course. She squealed and groped for him helplessly as she came, again and again, and Jeff began to scrub her swollen clit with his thumb as he shot. They clung to each other and came for what seemed like twenty minutes. Perhaps it was.
As Amy had said, it WAS epic. And it wasn't long before they were at it again, this time in the shower. Their morning fell into a familiar rhythm of fuck, snuggle, fuck, laugh, fuck, eat lunch, and fuck some more. And they savored every moment of it.
They were relaxing in bed later that afternoon, still warm and sweaty from their last, and very content. For the moment, anyway. Pachelbel played softly in the background.
"Mmmm. That was nice, Jeffie. Again."
"It was amazing. You're amazing. Always."
"Can I play slave girl and go naked this weekend? Please?"
He put a finger to his chin and made a show of thinking. "Hmmm. A beautiful girl wants to go naked for me and wait on me hand and foot... Mmmm, let me think..." She giggled, and he grinned. "Talk about an offer I can't refuse..."
She smiled, but said nothing. His father had once said exactly the same thing.
A few minutes later, Jeff was sitting at the kitchen table in his jeans, watching Amy prepare breakfast wearing nothing but her ankle bracelet. His eyes savored her pale, bare body like a connoisseur oenophile savors a fine Beaujolais, he thought.
Or like a homeless wino savors a bottle of Night Train, he added to himself wryly. He was addicted. Luckily, she was too.
"Coffee, sir?" she simpered, pouring his cup with a small but deliberate quiver of her still-perky breasts. Her bare, bald pussy was pink and visibly moist from their passion only a few minutes earlier.
"Thanks." He looked up at her with an odd expression. She saw, and waited. After a moment, he said, "You know, I think I'd like to watch you dance for me later."
She blinked, surprised. "I didn't think you liked me to play slave so much."
"It's not about your being my slave," he said with a feral smile. "It's about how beautiful you are and how sexy you dance. You could make a wooden Indian shoot his load."
She giggled and gave him a little wiggle, right there in the kitchen. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that," he said, and she laughed and squatted, sticking her flaring, wet, red and glistening hole up at him lewdly - then began to work her hips hungrily, her pretty bare feet arched and her breasts wobbling sensuously as she pumped her sex organs in his face.
"Oh, God," he said, feeling his cock hardening yet again.
"Sorry I'm so modest and ladylike, Jeffie," she whispered. "I know you'd rather I'd just hold my pussy open and work my muscles for you like a nasty fucking slut..."
As she spoke, in her patented Jeff-teasing little-girl voice, she held her pussy open and worked her muscles for him like a nasty fucking slut. A long, crystal skein of her pussy-juice drooled from her hole and hung to the floor.
Jeff was staring, speechless. "Let's go in the living room," she breathed. "Let me make you shoot by just teasing you..."
Jeff was massaging the bulge at his fly. "You love that, don't you?" he asked. "You love to show off for me..."
"Yes," she whispered. "I love it, Jeffie. I love the way your eyes crawl all over me and the way you stare at my bare pussy and my bare titties and my bare feet. I like to shock you, like this -"
She fell onto her back on the hardwood floor and spread her legs wide, bare feet high in the air, and pulled her vagina into a gleaming red "O." Then she giggled. "I love the look on your face when I do stuff like that. You look like you can't believe it."
"I can't," he said, black eyes wide. "You're so beautiful, and so sexy and nasty and delicious - and you're mine," he said, shaking his head as he stared at her gaping hole. "I can't believe I'm so lucky."
She smiled knowingly. "Watch this, Jeffie."
The rest of the weekend was similar. They shared long, soapy, squirmy showers till the hot water ran out, then ran shivering to the steam room to continue. Midnight skinnydipping in the pool; snuggling in front of the fireplace, kissing quietly to the Canon in D.
It was Monday night. As the fire crackled and snapped, they looked into each other's eyes. At the same moment, they both said, "This is Heaven." Then they laughed.
"It is," said Jeff.
Some time passed.
"Mmm. I'm hungry."
"Me too," said Jeff. "Hey, did we eat dinner?"
Amy giggled. "I think we forgot." She sat up, untangled herself from his arms, and snuggled beside him. "Feel like Chinese? I don't feel like cooking."
"Wouldn't think of making you. Chinese, pizza, or a sub?"
"Ooo! Meatball subs!"
"Done." He took his cellphone from the table and made the call, then they resumed kissing till the doorbell rang.
"Hide," said Jeff, grinning, as he rose to get the door.
"Oop! Guess I'd better." Amy had forgotten she was naked.
A few minutes later, as they munched the still-warm meatball sandwiches, Jeff smiled. Amy had put on a T-shirt, and nothing else. She didn't like to drip marinara sauce on her bare breasts; the question had arisen before.
"Ready for the kids to come back?" he asked.
"Mmm-hmm," said Amy, chewing. She swallowed and said, "Yeah, I want to hug my little guys too. Wonder what tales they'll have to tell." The last time the kids had stayed with their grandparents, they had gone to a theme park, a concert and a rodeo.
"No telling. More chips?"
"Mmm-mmm," she demurred, waving a hand. A moment later she said, "Saving space for dessert."
She grinned wickedly. "You," she said. "Don't get too full. We're not done yet."
Jeff just smiled.
A few weeks later, The family had settled back into its familiar routine; taking the kids to and from their private school, Amy volunteering with her elderly friends at the nursing home, Jeff working with crime victims and various helping agencies and government departments.
The house was busy, with the two lifemates, the three kids, and their various interests and activities. The twins were piano and dance students and soccer players, Harry was deep into military history and computer gaming, and Amy had acquired a new interest in playing Bridge. Her teacher was one of her retired friends at the home, and she played there twice a week. For his part, Jeff had taken up martial arts; he had a long way to go to catch up with Amy, who had studied with Geoff for ten years, but he was making quick progress.
With the kids at home, the lovers' sexual acrobatics were confined to the bedroom. And the shower. And the steam room... And sometimes the floor. They didn't miss much.
Jeff's work mostly had him interviewing and counseling crime victims at various police precincts, but he occasionally went to victims' homes; they were not infrequently afraid to go out in public, especially after particularly brutal assaults.
On one such occasion, Jeff was sitting with a young woman whose face was still swollen and bandaged from a vicious attack by her boyfriend. They sat at a shabby kitchen table in her aging trailer, and once again Jeff felt sorrow for those who lived with such poverty and violence. The woman had already decided to press charges - that aspect of police work wasn't part of Jeff's job - and he tried to reassure her as they went through his forms and questions.
Just as Jeff finished, and was sliding the papers across the table for her signature, they both jumped as the trailer was rocked by a tremendous crash.