Georgia-- aka Heaven Ch. 04

I moved to a perpendicular position to Kiefer and wrapped my arms tightly around his upper thighs while bending my head back behind him. I went in for the bite, but Kiefer's buttocks muscles tightened and I wasn't very successful. I laid my face on his left butt cheek, rubbing up and down. The heat of my facial cheek against the wet clamminess of his butt cheek made for an interesting sensation. Eventually, I relinquished my right arm's grasp around his thighs and moved my palm to his other cheek, softly rubbing it until he relaxed his muscles.

When I moved my left arm up along his body for a better hold, I was rewarded with my forearm touching nothing - touching nothing meaning that Kiefer's cock was hard and pointing upward out of range of my arm. I angled my head up to catch a glimpse of Kiefer's back and realized that his arms were up over his head, palms touching the outside wall of the cabin for support.

I lowered my head again, and, seeing Kiefer's muscles still relaxed, I began to knead his firm bottom with my right hand while my teeth went in for a nip on the left cheek. This time he didn't resist, and I moved my head all around sinking firm but not hurtful bites into Kiefer's flesh. I could have continued at length, for I was feeling and hearing the fruits of my labor. Kiefer's body had begun to sway back and forth and the intermittent guttural moans had my head swimming.

It wasn't like the tide rolling in. It was immediate. I was hot and wet and empty. I was aware, yet again in a very short space of time, that all my below-waist muscles were involuntarily tightening and loosening in an attempt to fill a void. My left hand instinctively went to Kiefer's cock and as I encircled it with my left palm, he managed to turn his upper body sideways and lift me from my kneeling position. He pulled me in front of him.

We were face to face. No more teasing eyes. They now burned. Kiefer pushed my back against the cabin wall. Not a push to hurt, but one to let me know he was now in control. I didn't mind at all. His face was near enough to mine that I could feel his hot breath but far away enough to see the change in his face. The rakish pirate-boy was no more. This face was full of determination and desire.

The sex that followed was hot. Hot, hard, and fast. The sun beat down on the top of my head. There was not a little excitement stirred in me knowing that the captain was above us only feet away, and I recognized that all he had to do was take a step or two to his left and look down to see us about to engage in furious sex.

Kiefer stepped out of his swim trunks and had little trouble pulling the bikini bottom down my thighs where it then fell to the deck and I stepped out of it. Kiefer's still slightly damp body pressed against mine. We were both a bit cold, yet hot at the same time, and the clamminess of our skin dissipated into heat only seconds after our bodies made contact. My bikini top stayed in place. My breasts were not the focus of attention this time around. My juxtaposition between man and boat created a strange but delightful sensation. The smooth, warm surface of the cabin wall warmed my back and Kiefer's hot torso warmed my front.

My hands went to Kiefer's shoulders, and I kneaded them, pressing my fingers into his flesh. His lips went to my neck, and he lightly bit my skin, driving me crazy as his hands traveled up and down my thighs. My fingers went back to Kiefer's bottom and, as I dug them in and pulled him closer to me, his tongue darted into my left ear, licked the rim, then made a path down my left cheek to my lips. When Kiefer kissed me, I closed my eyes. I felt as I had earlier this morning when we kissed - felt as if I were floating in some soothing, warm liquid.

My arms tightly gripped Kiefer's neck as he raised me several inches to a proper height. I swung my legs up around his body and dug them into his waist as if my life depended on it. Penetration was not a scene from a pleasing, pretty, fairy-tale. It was also not his doing. I was so eager to feel him inside me that I impaled myself on him, shoving him up into me by further tightening my arms and legs around his body.

Everything burned. My throat, my insides, my brain. I wanted our pelvic bones to merge, to feel his body as deeply inside of mine as possible. The clamminess was long gone. All was hot. Sweaty. My hair was wet and sticking to Kiefer's shoulder as I clasped my arms even more tightly behind his neck. My combined arm and leg grip allowed him to place his hands up above us with his palms against the cabin wall. He used the leverage to thrust and grind deeply and quickly into me.

We both grunted. We both sucked in and spat out air. My body, as it near imperceptibly moved slightly away from and then back into the cabin wall, made a smacking, sucking sound - a sweaty body sticking to and then pulling away from a slick surface. The slightly circular motion of his feverish grinding and the crushing nearness of our bodies had brought me to near-orgasm. I'd been so psychologically turned on by the moments leading up to this that it hadn't taken much physical stimulation to bring me to the edge - I was still pumped by the pirate-spanking incident. My body shuddered as the current of orgasm began its way up and down within me, and Kiefer's body briefly tightened into a pre-climax position. Then he began, if possible, even more furiously and quickly to drive into me until he, too, experienced release.

We did not look at one another during this encounter as we had this morning. The back of my head now rested on the cabin wall, but earlier I'd had my head on his left shoulder and his chin, sometimes his forehead, rested on mine. That's why I could hear so clearly the heavy breathing, the gasps, the moans. They spurred me to squeeze him more tightly to me when he got off, and I matched his movements and timing until he was finally still.

I said it before. The sex was hot, hard, fast, and, in its way, satisfying. I was sated physically, but I wanted more. It was like having a hot, fresh, gooey, chewy cookie straight out of the oven. The experience is wonderful, gratifying, but indulging in yet another cookie would be even better. There was more to experience with this man. More feelings to be felt. And I well knew that there were all kinds of excitement and all kinds of lovemaking. It would be delightful, if possible, to experience them all.

Kiefer, too, seemed reluctant to settle for just physical satisfaction. Perhaps he was ready for more cookies, too. I lowered my legs to the ground, but continued to clasp my arms around Kiefer's neck. His face still nestled into my shoulder and his hot breath tickled my neck for a full four, maybe five minutes after we'd gotten off. We didn't move. Why, I don't know. It would certainly have been cooler. We were stuck to one another with sweat. Sticky. Wet. Yet we continued to hold one another, Kiefer's hands now behind me and hugged tightly around my waist, mine still lightly draped around his shoulders and behind his neck, my fingertips making circles on his skin and in his hair. Finally, a change in the sound of the yacht's engine pulled us apart. We stared at one another briefly, blinking but not saying anything.

Kiefer pulled on his swim trunks and I pulled on my bikini bottom. Silently, we moved back to the cushioned seating area in the bow, but not for long. The heat and the mixed liquids between my legs made for a rather uncomfortable ride despite the water's beauty and my companion's handsome face. My own face must have communicated the discomfort, for Kiefer soon asked if I was ready to head back to shore to which I nodded assent. For a second time today, he made his way to the phone to let the captain know that we were ready to return to the marina. In truth, as both Kiefer and I knew, the captain had had the vessel headed back to shore for some minutes now.

And ready I was. The yacht was now associated, in my mind, with hot, fast sex and I was ready to slow the pace. I also wanted a shower. My focus on this desire was not intense though. Mostly my mind was fixed on having that other cookie. I wanted to experience Kiefer in a new way, a different way. I wanted to touch him all over, kiss him all over, watch him as I did so.

When we reached the marina, it took mere moments for us to retrieve our goods and make our way to the car. I hadn't managed to change into that clean underwear. I wore my still damp bikini with the sarong tied around my waist. Kiefer wore his swimsuit with the blue-green shirt, undone. Once inside and underway, Kiefer's hands freely roamed my body. He didn't suffer neglect from me either. Again, as with the captain, I was cognizant that the car's driver was only a glance in the mirror away from seeing us. Kiefer seemed not to be aware of this at all. Or, perhaps years of being scrutinized had made him somewhat immune to prying eyes.

It was as adventurous, as exciting, as a junior-high exploration of the opposite sex. The driver would be a bit disappointed, though, if watching; neither of us went for areas directly associated with sex. We were more interested in another kind of discovery, discovery of self and other. I was most surprised when Kiefer bit the inside of my wrist and I felt an unfamiliar electrical surge inside. No, the surge was familiar. The cause was unfamiliar. He seemed amazed when he reacted unexpectedly to the tender kisses I placed on the inside of his forearm near where the elbow bends. The investigation of one another reached a point where I had to slow down or take the plunge.

When I half-teasingly asked him if we should have the driver pull the car over so we'd have time to finish what we'd started before we got back to the cottages, Kiefer whispered in my ear.

"Don't you remember? I told you a slow-burn was coming. This is the beginning of the warm-up."

Lord, the chills that went down my spine and up my, well, up in me, when that voice delivered the low growl into my ear. And, is if by magic, the car rolled up to and stopped at the curbside of my cottage. Kiefer grabbed our bags and we flew out of the car, quickly making our way in the front door and upstairs.

We got to my room, but I have no recollection of using a key to get in the door. After we entered, Kiefer led the way, not stopping until he entered the bathroom. Before I caught up, I heard the water running. We had our clothes off in a blink and, stepping into the warm water, we began to wash and scrub ourselves, gently, not paying much attention to one another. I knew what I wanted to clean. He knew the same for himself. This was no sensuous shower. No buildup. We'd been building up all day. To this. Whatever this was to be.

I needed no touch to arouse me. I'd been in a state of arousal since this morning on one level or another. The tender, inquisitive exploration during the ride home had heightened my sensitivity and sensibility. As we exited the shower, I grew even more keenly aroused. Wet male body. Wet, hard, tattooed male body. Within reach. Apparently, some animal-like expression painted my face because Kiefer's eyes, wide for a second or two only, assumed a calm and relaxed focus as he handed me a towel. Mechanically, I dried off, anticipating, wanting, what was to come.

I had already tossed my towel to the floor as Kiefer finished drying himself. Perhaps I hadn't done a very good job - I felt dry in most places but very wet in others. Kiefer's back was to the sink and he leaned back on the countertop as he pulled me to him. His palms slid up and down my backside from thighs to shoulders. It was a light touch, a gentle touch, but it may as well have been executed with a lit torch. My skin tingled everywhere he touched it, and I pushed myself closer into his body, enjoying the warmth, the smell, the feel.

My cheek, my left one, was turned to Kiefer's chest. I'm unsure how long the stroking lasted, probably not long, but I was aware that my own fingers were busy, those of one hand softly passing up and down Kiefer's back and the others stroking his wet hair. Eventually, Kiefer's hands came to my forearms and he pushed me backwards, turning me and guiding me out of the bathroom and towards the bed. When we reached it, Kiefer entered with his head at the foot of the bed and pulled me into the same direction.

In retrospect, I'm sure of one thing. I'd never been made love to like that before. I thought, no, I knew that I'd had some great sexual relationships in my life, but now, thinking back, the only word that comes to mind about this specific sexual act is exquisite. Well, and another one. Slow, of course. Oh, and, as promised, burn. But it was a very long fuse. No quick and dirty boat sex here. Neither of us tried to outdo the other. We took turns. Kiefer licked and kissed and nipped every inch of my body it seemed. His hot breath on my skin, his eager tongue, his gentle fingers, all served to fill me simultaneously with both content and yearning.

It was a pleasure to shower Kiefer with affection. My desire had been to lick him from head to toe. And I did fulfill this desire in part. It made me dizzy to smell and lick his skin. But my heady journey didn't make it past his navel. My hands were on his chest as I moved my tongue downward, but he grabbed my forearms and pulled me upward.

It's not as easy to describe the position he maneuvered me into as it is to close my eyes and feel it. Facing one another on our sides, Kiefer raised my right leg and encouraged me to help him enter me. That accomplished, he placed my leg over his left one. Nope, that doesn't get it across. Kiefer was to my left, facing me as I faced him. My left leg and his right leg touched one another, knees facing, and were extended straight out toward the headboard. In fact, our feet were within an inch of it. After guiding his cock into me, Kiefer's left leg was over our two extended ones, but underneath my right one.

We faced one another the whole time. And it was a long time. It was languid, but not without passion. Kiefer rocked me endlessly and effortlessly, using the pressure of his toes and the ball of his foot on the headboard as a lever, something, from time to time, I did as well. He expended so little bodily energy other than the foot movement that he didn't even breathe heavily until he got off. But the slow road to getting there . . . how to describe it?

You know how it happens sometimes? Suddenly you "feel" that perfect thrust, that perfect timing, but it doesn't last long enough, dammit, to bring you to the ecstasy that you know it could? Well, this lasted. The thrust, the timing, they didn't change. They just went on and on. I can still feel the sensation when I close my eyes. It was like experiencing a long fireworks show - all the smaller fireworks displays leading up to the finale were, in their way, crucial to the effectiveness of the whole. It was, as he'd told me twice before, a slow burn. The buildup seemed never-ending, but, oh, when it did end!

I don't mention that this round of sex, this lovemaking, lasted for an unusually long time to make Kiefer seem superhuman. In fact, I'm sure that Kiefer (or anyone else, for that matter) could not do this time after time. In fact, I'd already experienced two times when he had not. But this was extraordinary, at least in my experience. This was more like a rite of passage than sex.

I'm not sure what Kiefer was thinking as we stared at one another. I'm not even sure what I was thinking. I know I felt strongly and intimately connected to him. Beyond the usual connection one feels with a lover. I know that his face reflected a contented, although somewhat dreamy, mood. From time to time, his left hand, mostly resting over my waist, would come to my cheek, his fingertips softly brushing my skin. At those moments I felt a kind of tenderness from him and inside of me that I'd not felt in a long time.

When we first settled into this on-our-sides position, our bottom arms, that is those resting on the sheet, were crooked at the elbow and placed a bit above our heads. Our fingers entwined and stayed in this linked pose until we both had gotten off. My right hand moved from place to place along Kiefer's body, not impatiently, but affectionately. At times I rubbed his back or his side. At others I allowed my fingers to twist into his chest hair. The best times, though, were when I touched his face, his hair, his neck, and watched his eyes smile at me. At one point, armed with new knowledge of one another, he bit my inner wrist which I followed by placing soft kisses on the sensitive flesh of his inner forearm.

When the buildup reached its end, at least for me, I used my foot to dig into the headboard providing more force to my thrusts and allowing me to insinuate myself even more deeply into Kiefer's body. Although our movements were never furious as they'd been on the yacht, they were no less powerful in their way.

I came before Kiefer. Several minutes before. I was oddly unabashed, at ease even, as he watched me go through the stages of my orgasm, watched me closely as it so very slowly and with unfamiliar internal force wafted through my body like an indolent palm fan waving in the breeze. My normal rather pronounced and prolonged orgasmic shuddering was absent and only during the last seconds of getting off did my body exhibit any external movement bearing any resemblance to its usual behavior.

During my orgasm, Kiefer's left thumb went to my forehead and he made slow circles on my skin. He seemed to be comforting me, but for what reason I don't know. I felt too good to need comforting. When Kiefer's orgasm came a few moments later, his foot dug deeply into the headboard, something I could determine via the increased energy of his thrusts. His eyes belied the relative calmness of his body. They widened and narrowed, widened and narrowed, and for a second or two his head jerked back, but quickly he returned his gaze to my own.

As before, on the yacht, I tried to mirror his movements and mood as he came into me. In those last seconds of release for him, our entwined fingers above our heads pressed firmly together. When our fingers finally relaxed, we simply pulled closer to one another, my face in Kiefer's chest, his in my hair, our free arms wrapped around one another's waists. This blissful state, though, was not to last long.

The phone rang. I pulled my head back from his chest and looked at Kiefer. He nodded. I disentangled myself, unwillingly, and sat up, reaching for the phone. It was Tom. He wanted to talk to Kiefer. I handed the phone to Kiefer, but would have preferred to throw it to the bottom of the pool instead. I returned to his side. I wanted to feel him around me, near me, on me. I shut my eyes - his scent filled my nostrils, my mind.

"Huh?"

Kiefer's voice made me open my eyes. He shook his head, focused on his brother's voice.

"When, Tommy?" Kiefer blinked slowly, his free hand coming to rest on my right cheek. He was not breathing heavily anymore, but he was not completely at rest. He smiled at me as two of his fingers gently rubbed my cheek up and down. His eyes, however, were on a different wavelength.

Suddenly, Kiefer said "hi" to someone. Had the phone on the other side switched hands?

"Yeah. Sure. Sure, Ray. What time?" Kiefer glanced at the bedside radio clock.

Now I knew who was on the phone. Kiefer called his sister "Ray" and she called him "Kay." But what was it that she needed, wanted?

"Okay, Ray. I'll be ready."

Kiefer turned to me after he replaced the phone's receiver on its cradle.

He told me that Rachel had been called to New York because an assignment she'd thought was complete had been rejected by some "higher up" figure. It was not her part in the project per se that was being questioned, but she needed to be close at hand to make adjustments if upcoming changes necessitated.