Journey into Melanie's Reality Ch. 02

He turned his face to the computer. She played with the strapon in her fingers. He wasn't at all sure how he'd feel about being the one getting fucked, but he knew it was something she had fantasised about for a long time.

When he'd finished editing, he swivelled round. And gasped. She was naked but for the strapon. It swayed lewdly from her groin as she studied herself in the mirror. He felt for his camera. She turned in surprise at the sound of the shutter. And blushed.

- Darling. You look utterly beautiful. Um, and maybe a wee bit dangerous. But you'd better have a look at my edit before you get completely carried away...

He vacated the seat for her, watched as she removed the toy and slipped on her gown. The flames in her eyes were dancing as she hugged him:

- You wicked, beautiful, man. But... you know you're the only person I'll ever fuck with that -- an enigmatic smile -- or, at least, the only male...

- Aye weel. It's yours to use as you please, but I would prefer it so. I'll just have to cope when you need to take me. Now, check my edit please.

- Yes of course.

She rose after a few minutes:

- That's it sent darling. I incorporated all your suggestions except one. Now -- shrugging off her gown -- remove your clothes. On the bed with you. I need to tell you about George.

He slipped out of his clothes, sensing a new level of self-confidence in his lover. Shivered in excitement and fear at the thought. And slipped into bed with her. The strapon and lube were on the cabinet with the wine.

They kissed and stroked as she opened fifteen years of her life to him. He barely spoke, except to seek clarification on a couple of points. When she was done, she sank into him, tears soaking his chest. His poor darling:

- My sweet. I can't begin to understand how you coped with three young children, and bore the increasing stress and frustration of caring for George. You're the strongest person I've ever met. But. You can't go through life blaming yourself for his death.

She opened her mouth, but he laid a finger on it:

- Wheesht darling. Let me say this. You had to move here: you couldn't have turned down the job opportunity. You had sole responsibility to provide for the family. And moving much nearer to Phil made life easier for her, as well as for you and the bairns. It was providential that you found this home, already wheelchair-friendly. His pneumonia wasn't triggered by the move from Adelaide love. I know from my friends that MS destroys the immune system eventually. The awful reality is that he was going to die sometime soon: he had no defence against infection left. It was nothing more than chance that it happened so soon after your move.

- Uhuh, and you would feel no guilt if it happened to you?

- Of course I'd feel guilt. But you can't allow your life to be forever troubled by what-ifs. It's the future that matters, you can't change the past. And...

She sensed the import of his hesitation:

- And...?

He sat up, glugged down the rest of his wine. He hadn't meant to say this so soon, though it had been growing in him since long before his arrival in Canberra. But he'd eased open the floodgates, and it had to come out now. He looked in her eyes, fingers lightly on her shoulders:

- Darling, I want to share the future with you and your children. When the time's right, when your bairns can accept me as a fixture in their lives, not just as a visitor.

She was silent. No more tears. Her eyes searched his face for some time. He could see that her lips were dry, passed her wine to her. She sipped a little, put the glass down:

- That's the most beautiful thing anybody's ever said to me love. Thank you for your belief in me. But let's give it time. And -- she smiled broadly -- you've had rather more wine than I have tonight. I won't hold you to what you've just said. Tell me again at the end of your stay, after you've spent more time alone with the children. And you're stone-cold sober.

He made to speak, and this time it was her finger soft on his lips:

- Three days with my littl'uns, and only one alone with them, doth not a lifetime make. I know you mean what you say Sandy, and I know how much you love me. But let's give it a bit more time before we, you, enter such a commitment. And right now -- her expression hardened - there are things I want to do to you. With your present. Are you ready for that? Ready for me to fuck your sweet virgin arse?

- Put it on then - his voice was a hoarse growl -- I want to give you your pleasure.

*****

His face belied his words. She didn't care. This had been a fantasy for years. He'd bought her the thing, knew exactly what it meant:

- Hands and knees.

She watched intently as he shuffled to obey. Fastened the obscene toy to herself, wriggling to allow the inward-pointing dildo to slide fully into her wetness. Knew a spasm of something she'd never before experienced. Knelt and licked his quivering arse. She'd rimmed him before and his body hadn't shaken like this then. The power surged in her: she loved him for all he was, and now for the first time he was hers to use, offering his last virginity to her.

She wet her index finger and gently eased it into his tensely pursed anus, watching him carefully, opening him for her use. Wriggled the finger around , then withdrew it, lubing it and the adjoining one. Opened him with both hands, and tenderly inserted the two slippery fingers, her excitement rising as she imagined her cock pushing into him later. Three fingers this time, and he gasped and flinched, but she held him by the hip; waited until he'd adjusted and then pushed in further. She leaned in and licked all round his tender stretched sphincter, soothing it, as she manipulated her fingers inside him. God, if this is what having a real prick felt like...it was no wonder men rarely stopped to think about the consequences. She wouldn't have, either. When she withdrew her fingers, she noted the gaping hole, and knew that he was hers to take.

Powerlust suffused her as she lubed his arse and her new prick. Her hand dipped between his thighs: his penis dangled, soft and unaroused. His problem. But she knew she had to be gentle, had to subdue her need to take him as vigorously as she wished. She wanted him to accept this, if he didn't actually enjoy it. She didn't want to cause him too much pain, so that she could take him again:

- Ready, my slave?

She felt him tense as her appendage pressed against his sphincter:

- Relax darling, please -- she searched her memory for what she felt when the first cock had taken her arse -- try to push out. As if you're going to shit...

- Uhhhh...

She felt his tension dwindle a fraction, watched as the ring of his arse relaxed. Added a gloop of lube there, and pressed gently. More firmly. Watched intently as the muscle gave way to the invading dildo. Pressed a little more, felt a surge of power as her cock slid into him. And carnal electricity in her gut as the dildo in her cunt pressed harder into her. She was a man-woman now, relishing the pleasure of both. But the man was overtaking the woman: she had to fuck him. Her cunt was aflame as the cock invaded him, but her head was something else. She plunged and bucked relentlessly now, care for his feelings forgotten; took the arse he offered with the cock he'd bought her, told him her need:

- Hands up behind your back, sweet manslut.

He obeyed. The charge surged through her and she tugged and twisted her own nipples. Fucked him harder, her body twisting and rearing, sweat dripping from her. Her fingers lost the slippery teats in her uncontrollable movements but now they were afire, her head mush, all was power, and the dildo driving in her cunt. She switched on the vibrator and her cuntlips clenched on the plastic in her, oh jesus, how beautiful... and she released. Soaked his arse as the flood escaped round her cock. Sank against his back in delirium.

Eventually his words filtered through to what remained of her brain:

- Darling? Please move, I'm getting a bit uncomfortable. I don't think I've ever passed out on your back. Yet...

She drew her cock from him slowly. There were traces of shit on it and that brought some consciousness back:

- Oh sweetness. I'm sorry, did I hurt you?

- No, not hurt exactly...

She crouched back, removed the thing that had given her such power:

- Sorry, I was just swept away by... everything.

Her brain was returning, but slowly. She wasn't normally inarticulate. She lay beside him, covered his face in kisses as her fingers lingered over his body, settled on his cock. She glanced at the bedside alarm:

- Darling, it's late. Please, would you go and check on the children? I don't think I can move...

- And exactly what makes you think I can?

He smiled and eased himself from the bed:

- Jesusfuck, my arse. Maybe that pressie wasn't such a good idea after all.

But he was smiling as he shrugged on the dressing-gown and left the room.

She was asleep when he returned. Naked and sprawling, legs akimbo. His cock twitched. He knelt and licked her engorged cunt. The scent and taste suffused his being. He fucked her for himself as she slept, only slight moans suggesting any consciousness in her. He didn't care. As the spunk spurted into her, he realised it was the first time he'd ever taken a sleeping woman. Though he'd been tempted once before, that first night they spent in Paris... He recalled the memory with tenderness.

He remembered to set the alarm for six before he switched the lamp off. She'd told him the bairns never woke before six-thirty. He kissed her slack mouth briefly. And slept.