Metamorphosis Ch. 03

His hand went to her crotch while she rubbed her wrists.

"Want some more without the bondage, baby?"

"No, I've had enough, Joseph. I wondered how it would feel not being in control, and now I know, it's not for me. Fun one time, maybe, but no more, not for me."

"It works for some people," he told her, "I want it to work for women I'm with, I like the control."

"Well it doesn't work for me."

The mood in the room had changed.

"Betty, we just had sex, you went down on me, and I did you, too. You can't take that back."

"It's time to stop this, Joseph. You should probably go home now."

"It'll be much nicer if we spend the night together, Betty."

"I don't want to do that, I really need some time alone."

"But. . ."

"No but's, you're starting to ruin a good evening. Maybe you'd better go home, Joseph. Maybe you better go now."

She got out of bed, and handed his pants to him.

By then I'd pulled my clothes on, ready to go down and rescue her.

No need. He pulled on some clothes, carried the others to the door.

"I'm sorry, Betty. I honestly thought it would work out better. Goodnight."

And he left.

The outer door to the apartment slammed a few seconds before I opened the inner one that opened to the rest of the house. Tina, tears in her eyes, wrapped in her robe, was instantly in my arms.

"Please don't hate me for doing that, for letting him do that to me, Bob, I'm so sorry."

"Everything's OK," I told her.

"It must have been awful for you to have to see that!"

I held her, still aroused by the sights, the memories.

"I feel cheap, and used, and like a tramp. I hate that I did that! How can you ever want me, or even touch me again, after that."

I muttered something about loving her all the more, but I was too distracted to pay attention to the words. This woman, wrapped in her robe, smelled of sex!

Smelled of another man!

She was, I realized, still wet with him!

I couldn't help myself.

I took her up to our room, to our bed, offering what comfort I could.

We lay on it, her head was nestled into my shoulder, and I moved, and moved her, until we were face to face. "How can you stand to hold me, or even touch me, after I did that?"

I rolled towards her a little, so that she was on her back, my head above hers.

And I moved down towards her.

"No, no, honey, don't kiss me, not yet, I want to wash myself, I took his penis in my . . ."

"I know, I know, it's all right," I told her, and my lips smothered the last word.

Her lips were closed, clenched.

I lifted my head enough to say "I love you, Tina", and lowered it again.

"But his penis was in there, honey", she started to say, until my tongue pressed against her lips for a moment, then against her teeth for a moment, then met hers, the same tongue that. . .

and right then and there ejaculated again, just a little, quietly, while my mind replayed the image of what was, a few minutes ago, exactly where I was now.

And Tina responded, her holding me to her, kissing me back.

"Please tell me you're not mad at me," she muttered through the kiss.

"I'll prove I'm not."

I pulled at her robe, opening it.

My hand traced down her body, between her legs - so hot, so wet.

"No, wait until I wash, don't touch me!"

"I'll show you I'm not mad."

"Let me take a shower," she said, starting to sit up, "and then come back and love you."

"No, no, love me now, let me love you . . ."

"But I feel dirty, I'm covered with his sweat, his saliva, his, his. . .I stink with him!"

My lips stopped her talking.

I forced her down again.

I kissed her lips again.

"I watched every minute," I said, "I know what all happened. It's OK, Tina. I still love you."

There were tears in her eyes.

"How can you even touch me, after watching that?"

"Like this, does this prove I'm not mad?" I said, and kissed her lips again.

She kissed back, accepting my proof.

And I moved, so I could kiss her chin.

I turned her head away from me, and my lips and tongue found her ear.

"He did that," she said, almost a protest.

Her shoulder.

"That, too."

Her hand touched me. "You're not even hard, Bob, not even a little bit, you're just trying to make me feel better."

"I'm not hard because I masturbated three or four times because you were so sexy," I claimed.

I moved lower, to her breast, and my hand found the other one, tongue and fingers, teeth and fingers, working on her nipples, and I felt her hand on the back of my head, pressing me hard into her breast.

"See, that's not so bad" I muttered, my mouth full of her.

"No, not bad, nice, but he did that, too, his spit is probably still on me. . ." she said, and I moved, my head pushing against her hand, lower, to her navel.

"Nice, very nice. This is all part of flooding," I told her. "I loved watching you doing it."

I could feel her go rigid as she felt me there, nuzzling into her stomach.

"You watched everything?"

"Mmmm, yes" as my tongue made circles around her belly button.

My hand found her knee, and pulled at it, and her legs opened a little, she still had a hand on my head.

"You know he was in me, then. . ."

"Mmmm, yes. . ."

and my tongue drifted down lower, I was breathing in the scents from her hair.

"But, he, he . . ., Bob, he ejaculated in me, let me clean up . . ."

I had by then moved my hands to either side of her cunt, and spread it, opening those lips.

"Tina, I know that, and I know I wanted you to do that, and you don't have anything to feel bad about, or dirty about. . ."

"But, but. . ."

My tongue found the opening, and touched her clit.

The hand she had on my head suddenly stopped trying to stop me - her legs opened wider, she rotated her hips up, exposing herself, and her hands, on the back of my head, now pushed me deep into her!

Smelling.

Tasting.

Licking.

I felt her move a little, and then felt her lips close on my own sore masturbated limp penis.

I moved so my knees straddled her head, holding my penis above her face, making it easy for her.

Just like Joseph did a little while ago.

But with me in her mouth, and her cunt covered by my mouth, I grew harder, and she, even more ready.

Turns out we were able to have sex, after all.

And that night we slept in each other's arms, covered with our own perspiration, and his. Our own juices, and his. And, uniquely, our love for each other - not his!

Tina, finally, understood that part of me.

We were awakened by the special phone ringing.

"Hello?" she said.

A pause.

"Hello Joseph."

"No, not tonight, Joseph. Or tomorrow, either."

"No, I don't think I'll be seeing you again, Joseph."

"Good-bye."

She turned to me. "Is that OK with you?"

"Yeah."

"He said I had real promise in bed, and wanted to see me again, to play some more."

"But you're not gonna do that, huh?"

"Not with him. I want to feel good when I make love or have sex. That was intense, but it wasn't really fun."

"You wanted a different experience. I guess you got one."

"Yeah, I suppose so. I did learn some things, though. Maybe sometime we could try some of those things, but I want it with love, not just for sex. . ."

"Yeah, I'm sure we will. Are you OK with what happened with Joseph - you don't still feel cheap. . ."

"No. I was worried about what you'd think of me. You made it all right last night. Thanks."

"Good. Ah, are you going to date some more?"

"Well, I learned a lot from Joseph. Do you still want me to learn more?"

"Yeah."

"OK, then. I still have that date with Phil. I guess I'll keep it."