Mouth to Mouth

"I do not," I denied. "Do I?"

"Like a cage full of gorillas. The pictures all fell off the walls."

I looked at him in mock horror. He separated my hands from the covers and drew the covers down my chest, exposing me down to the waist. I felt strangely embarrassed. My nipples hardened in the cool air, became fingertips again. Richard admired them, which made them even harder. I lay there with my arms folded, hands near my chin. I felt like a dessert tray, laid out for inspection.

"A hot bath would be nice," he said.

"A hot bath?"

"Water? In a tub? Lots of bubbles and a rubber duck?"

"You're the rubber duck," I said. It occurred to me that I had not even touched him before, that his erection went directly from his shorts into my vagina. That had never happened before. I wondered what he would taste like, what it would feel like, stroking up and down his shaft. I imagined myself licking it, which erupted me in gooseflesh.

He picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. I kissed his neck and nibbled his ear, teased the hair on his chest. Like the rest of him, his chest hair was slightly grizzled.

"Did you know you look like an old oak tree?"

"I've been told that," he grunted, setting me on my feet. I immediately continued down and would have taken my knees had he not stood me up again. "No."

"Please?"

"Not yet. After we shower, maybe. While we shower, if you want."

"I want," I assured him. I felt like jumping up and down and clapping my hands like a little girl promised ice cream. Or a Popsicle. A big, delicious Popsicle.

While I started the shower, he gathered shampoo and conditioner from the sink top and set them inside the tub. He looked at the bottle of scented body wash for a moment, and then gathered that also. Lastly, he unwrapped a bar of soap and put that in the tub. I wished forlornly for a bottle of bubble bath and a half dozen scented candles. How romantic that would be. I ran the water really hot, the way I like it.

He washed me first and then I washed him. No one can tell me he enjoyed washing me more than I enjoyed washing him. From his erection, it was plain he enjoyed washing me. I shuddered down to my toenails when I took that shaft in my hands and lathered its length and made it clean. I chose, not too happily, to forgo sucking him in the shower. I have never enjoyed having water in my face. I wanted my first time to be perfect, on my knees or in the bed, but dry and warm and comfortable. Not in the shower.

We kissed; we kissed for a very long time. He shampooed my hair and conditioned it afterward, washed me a second time with the body wash, kissed my neck from behind while he held my breasts. He didn't mind that they were small. For the first time that night, he was gentle with my nipples, turning them gently; tuning them he called it, running a fingertip in circles around my areola. When he slipped a finger up my vagina I spread my legs and bent them at the knee to grant him access. He put a second finger up me, and then a third, leaving me weak-kneed and moaning, especially after he slipped another finger up my anus. That made me beg. Sopping wet, my hair bleeding water onto the floor, he carried me back to the bed and made violent love to me.

"I love you," I muttered at one point. It was true. I did love him. He put me on my back and put his erection in my mouth and spread my legs and assaulted my labia with his mouth. No man has ever done the things he did to my clitoris and my urethra and my vagina and my cervix and my perineum and my anus and my inner thighs, which he branded with hickies. I almost scissored his head off when he brought me to orgasm with his lips. I orgasmed for five full minutes, a very long time when someone has your clitoris between his teeth. Before I could coax the sperm from his testicles into my mouth and down to my stomach, he righted himself and took me Missionary-style again, allowing me the same peep show of myself, watching his length go in and out of me. Eventually I just closed my eyes and let the orgasm take me away. And then he put me doggy.

* * *

It was 4:14 A.M. So the red numerals on the alarm clock informed me. I rolled over, tucking my rear end against Richard's waist. He turned over and spooned me in against him, his right hand finding a breast. My asshole was sore. That made me smile. I hadn't expected anal sex.

"You awake?" he asked quietly.

"Um-hm." I clasped my hand over his hand holding my breast.

"Sorry if I hurt you," he apologized.

"You didn't hurt me," I lied. He had hurt me a lot. I didn't care. It had been worth it.

"I should have used a condom."

"I know," I agreed. "But we didn't." Plural. We. I snuggled in against him tighter. "You can have me again. If you want."

"Later," he said, yawning deeply. "We have all day to do this again. You're not going anywhere, anyway."

"I'm not?" I asked, grinning secretly.

"No, you're not. Except maybe to the bathroom and the cooler to get us another beer. And maybe to the door to let in Room Service when we order."

"We're ordering Room Service?" I inquired.

"We're certainly not going out. You should see it outside."

"Snowing again?"

"Like the Ice Age," he confirmed. "You're not going anywhere. Neither am I."

And with that happy thought, I drifted back to sleep.

* * *

He awoke me at 8 A.M. He awoke me by turning me on my back and raping me. He did this by spread-eagling me with his hands and knees, grasping my wrists in his powerful hands and securing them at each corner of the bed. He instructed me to do the same with my feet, jammed my panties in my mouth and blindfolded me with my brassiere. I struggled at his command and writhed and fought and cried out as his manhood speared me to the bed, moaning continuously as he brutally assaulted my vagina. At one point I almost cried out for help. He made sure I did not come and emptied his testicles into my trapped vagina. I almost cried I was so upset. But I wanted to do it again. He laughed at my confusion, kissing my neck and face.

"Once a day is enough," he warned me. "This is not something I want you getting used to."

How many days did he envision me being here with him, I wondered.

At 10 o'clock we ordered Room Service. At his suggestion, I answered the door dressed in my pajama outfit of white tank top and boxer shorts. My nipples pointed through the white cotton of my top, again, like fingertips. No tip was necessary, the bellhop's eyes told me, but I gave him one anyway, a ten-dollar bill. He walked away shaken and sweaty.

With the drapes pulled and the room flooded with sunshine, I stripped off the top, wiggled out of my boxers, and joined him at the table. I had been told that I would be spending my day with him in the nude. I couldn't object to that; I liked that idea fine. He also told me, not quite jokingly, that I would be answering the door the next time in my tank top and panties, and then just in my panties, and then in nothing at all. My nipples refused to do anything but stay hard as rock.

After breakfast we showered, and after that we went for a walk. The snow had started again and the accumulation was approaching two feet. I'd told Nick earlier that I might be here as long as Thursday or Friday. He understood, wishing me good luck. Closing the cell phone, I had gone back to making love to Richard's rigid cock, spending a blissful 20 minutes teasing and cajoling, sucking and licking, stroking and fingering, kissing and whispering I love you, finally masturbating him until he came on my tongue. Against his wishes, I had then shown him my mouthful of cum before swallowing it. I laughed and giggled while he shuddered, completely grossed out. I promised I'd show him his mouthful every time. He glowered at me and shook his head.

At dinner, we went to the bar and ordered from the short menu. The pretty brunette was there and I introduced us as Marci and Richard. Her name was Jeanette. She was married, she said, but took off her rings to engender tips. I was sad to hear that. I had not given up hope for a threesome.

I had a Heineken with dinner and Richard an O'Doul's. We both had steak and baked potatoes and cole slaw. I had a salad with Blue Cheese dressing while Richard chose Ranch dressing. At some point, the topic of marijuana arose. Jeanette pretended not to hear, and then came back twenty minutes later with a proposition: For $50 she could get us a half-dozen joints. Surprised, I said yes, immediately. Richard glared at me, but I didn't care. Last night had been wonderful; I wanted it again, or an experience as close to it as possible.

At 10 o'clock we bundled up and went for a walk. Jeanette joined us on her 15-minute break, and between the three of us, we shared two joints, both hers. Richard gave her $50 for six more-he refused to let me pay, just like everything else that week-and then he and I shared another after Jeanette went back inside. This one, we shared with a kiss.

* * *

"Do you think she'd be interested?" I asked. I was sitting on the bed nude, cross-legged, trying to get comfortable. Like every other joint in my body, my hips ached. I felt sprung, especially my back. I glanced at the open window, enjoying the view. I wondered if anyone was enjoying it back. I had to be visible.

Richard shrugged. "I don't know. You'd be a better judge of that than me."

"She likes me," I said. "That's obvious."

"You should ask her then," he said.

"I should ask her," I parroted. Of course I wouldn't. That kind of courage escaped me.

Smoking in the room was out of the question, so at midnight Richard and I went for another walk. Under my coat I wore thigh-high stockings and nothing else. I shivered both from the cold, and the unfamiliar feel of the material on my bare skin. I had never gone naked before, beneath my coat like this. It was both scary and erotic. Richard grinned at my bravado. Outside, while we kissed, I would open my coat and let him explore my freezing body with his warm hands.

To my surprise, Jeanette caught us at the front door.

"Give me a minute," she said. "I'm on break." She turned and ran back to the bar, returning a moment later with her coat. She eyed me, suddenly suspicious. I began to blush, bright red. She composed her face as she buttoned herself in the coat.

"It's started to snow again," she said.

"We saw."

"They're predicting another six inches."

"Nice number," I commented dryly.

Grinning, Richard held the door for us as we went outside. I grinned, hiding my embarrassment, wondering how anyone could broach the subject, inviting someone into a threesome. It would be easier, I realized, with a stranger than with a friend. As though that mattered to me. The idea of being shared, being doled out between people, shook my confidence to the core. I didn't think I could do it, either way, asker or askee.

The earlier wind had died away, but snow was coming down in small, serious flakes. Already, an inch had accumulated on the sidewalks. We kicked it up as we walked. Cold air stole up the bottom of my coat and made me feel like I was naked in a freezer, which basically, I was. We walked with quiet urgency down to the street and along the sidewalk and out of sight of the front doors. None of us, Jeanette especially, could afford being spotted smoking a joint. We hid behind our usual screen of evergreens and Jeanette produced a joint, which Richard lit with his Bic lighter.

"This is good stuff," I said admiringly. It was better even, than what I had brought.

"My boyfriend sells it," Jeanette said, sucking in a breath.

Richard eyed her questioningly. "I thought you were married?"

"I am. My boyfriend sells it," she repeated.

Richard snorted and I broke out in giggles. Jeanette took another hit off the joint, filled her lungs deeply and waited patiently for the cannabis to absorb. Richard and I took hits as Jeanette let her breath out.

"You two are getting along grand," she observed.

We both nodded.

"I knew it, the instant I saw you talking in the bar." She tapped the side of her head, beside her right eye. "It was almost instantaneous, like dropping a match into a bucket of gasoline. I see it all the time, you know. I mean, I see the hit and misses all the time. You two hit like a line drive." She mimicked swinging a baseball bat. "Right out of the ballpark. Do you have anything on under that?" she asked unexpectedly.

I coughed out smoke, choking in embarrassment.

"It's okay if you don't. I've been known to wear a coat and nothing else. I think it's sexy. Do you think it's sexy?" she asked Richard.

"I think it's very sexy," Richard admitted, unperturbed. "It was her idea too."

"Richard!" I gasped.

They both laughed. I changed the subject quickly.

"How did you get in, anyway? Aren't the roads...?" I indicated the quickly disappearing street. Already, our shoulders and hats were thick with snow. It was really coming down.

"I didn't. I got up and showered and went to work."

I looked at her blankly. Richard guessed the truth. "They put you up for the night."

"All of us," Jeanette confirmed. "Everyone without 4-wheel drive stays here."

"You have your own room?" I asked, irrationally hopeful. Jeanette laughed at my expression. My face heated up. I shuffled my freezing feet. My legs felt like frozen drumsticks. I was beginning to shiver helplessly.

"We better get inside," Richard suggested. He took my elbow and urged me along the sidewalk. "I'm sure it's not as simple as that," he said, referring to Jeanette's room. "They probably have you doubled up."

Jeanette nodded. "Kinda puts the damper on any hanky-panky. Unless you're hanky-pankying with your roommate, that is." She laughed, steam billowing from her mouth. I was encouraged, that I wasn't the only one shivering. With her eyes enlivened by the ingested pot, and her cheeks rosy, she was almost irresistible looking. I wanted her. It was the pot talking.

"Are you?" I asked pointedly.

"My roommate?" She laughed. "Mrs. Donnell is 60 years old, at least. No offense," she said, touching Richard's arm. I was at once jealous, and encouraged.

"Not at all. I wouldn't want to hanky-panky with a 60-year old, either. Why don't you just ask her?" he said to me.

I started.

"Ask me what?" Jeanette wanted to know.

I glared at Richard, who grinned good-naturedly.

"Whether you think we'll be able to get to our appointments in the morning," I lied, desperately. Snow hadn't been cleared from the parking lot or access roads leading to his customer's mountainside compound. We both were tentatively scheduled with meetings this morning, but mine looked doubtful at best. Had always looked doubtful from my point of view.

"Don't count on it," she said. "This snow looks utterly serious. Utterly and completely serious. I'm betting they changed the forecast since 10 o'clock, even. The wind dying off like this is not good. It means the front has stalled. Now, what did you really want to ask me, Marcia?"

My face got red hot. "Ah, nothing," I stammered. She looked very amused, her arms crossed and her head cocked to the side. Insanely, I wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her. I looked desperately at Richard.

"Your desire, your responsibility," he said. Jeanette looked at him, then back at me.

"Does it have something to do with your lack of dress?" she suggested humorously.

My face threatened to ignite my clothing, her clothing, Richard's clothing, melt every snowflake within 60 yards. I'd cause a flash flood from the melting snow-scape.

"Uh...."

"Just ask," she encouraged. "I'll say yes."

I blew out a lungful of air in relief. "Would you like to join us after your shirt? After your shift?" I corrected in embarrassment.

She laughed gaily. "God. I wish you had just asked me back out on the sidewalk, Marcia."

"Why?" I inquired.

She leaned in and whispered: "Because I would have opened your coat to see what I'd be rewarded with later, that's why."

* * *

The piano bar closed at 1:00 A.M. She had warned us her close-up time ran 30 to 45 minutes, so we shouldn't expect her before 1:30 AM at the earliest. I was surprised, therefore, when her knock came at 1:10 AM.

"Is that her?" I asked dubiously.

"Her or the house police, come to arrest us for co-habitation. That's still against the law in West Virginia, you know."

"No, it's not," I said nervously. "Is it?"

He laughed at me, and not simply because of my naiveté. I'd been a nervous wreck since we'd reentered the motel and come up to my room. I'd been impatiently pacing a rut in the carpet.

"Relax," he said. "You're ready."

Ready as I would ever be.

Upon entering the room I had dashed for the bathroom and turned on the shower. Not only to warm myself after our insane experiment, but to wash away all traces of my previous lovemaking. Inside and out.

I shampooed quickly and applied conditioner, then shaved my underarms and legs. I sat down on the tub edge and spread my legs and very carefully removed any trace of otherwise forgotten hair. Smooth as a baby, I had then rinsed my hair and had gotten out and wrapped myself in a towel before frantically drying my hair. What must the neighbors think, I wondered, could they hear my frenetic doings in the bathroom?

"Do I look all right?" I asked for the hundredth time.

I wore a simple T-shirt over a fresh pair of jeans. I had suggested being in my pajamas, but that had seemed way too forward for a first encounter. I had never been with a girl before; I didn't know what to do.

"You look great," he assured me. How could he be so calm? Had he done this before? He had assured me he hadn't. I wanted to flee to the bathroom and lock myself in.

It was Jeanette. She apologized for not going to her room first and changing out of her bartender's uniform, but she had little available wardrobe and didn't want to endure the inevitable questioning of mother hen. I thought she looked wonderful in her white shirt and black vest and black jeans. It was her uniform that I had first discovered her in and become attracted to her. I couldn't believe she was attracted to me. I was shaking with suppressed excitement and terror.

"Hi," she said, after her initial hello.

"Hi," I said back breathlessly.

"You look nice."

"So do you," I said inanely.

"Are you scared?"

"Yes," I said truthfully. "Petrified."

She laughed, holding out two bottles of liquor, one of Jack Daniels, the other Jim Beam. "I come prepared." She turned to Richard and handed him a paper bag. "A six-pack of O'Doul's. It makes it tough when you don't drink alcohol, Richard."

"I smoke dope," he pointed out.

"Not the same thing. Who wants to go outside every fifteen minutes and light a joint? Besides, I am breaking about a hundred and twenty rules just being here tonight. I can't go walking around the motel and attract attention to myself. Going outside with guests is a no-no."

Unperturbed, Richard sat the bag of O'Doul's down on the table and took the bottle of Jim Beam out of Jeanette's hand. He up-righted three of the glasses setting on a tray on the credenza, dropped three cubes of ice in each, and filled each glass to the halfway point.

"Richard, no," I said.

He smiled, benevolently. "I don't drink by choice. I also drink, by choice, when I choose to." He took a long swig of the amber liquid and smacked his lips. "Now that is good stuff. That is what I remember Jim Beam tasting like." He took another sip and nodded at Jeanette, who looked equally disturbed at his sudden indulgence.

"I didn't mean for you to-"

"It's okay. I was tiring of those trips outside anyway. Not that I didn't like our shared inhalations," he explained to me. "But Jeanette is right: We can't be taking midnight strolls at 2 A.M. We'd get arrested. Or worse, get booted out. Then where would we be?" he asked, grinning at me.