Pages of a Day Ch. 02

Marshall stood and slid her sideways on the couch (Scotchgard, more vital than ever!). Her arms reached to him, hungry to pull him down. "In, in, in," she chanted. "I can't wait. Fuck me, be my shade-tree mechanic."

'Your pit crew's ready, ma'm," said Marshall. She looked adorable, her breasts hard and heaving, the ponytail cascading over her shoulder. "Vroom, vroom." With one foot on the floor and the other on the couch, he lowered his hips, closer, closer.

"Damn it, don't make me wait!" Sandra said, sounding awfully serious. "No teasing! I want you now!"

Marshall saw Sandra move a hand to her lips and spread them wide for him. He did not hesitate. With a single well-aimed thrust he slid into her. Slowly, so they could adjust to the sensation, he entered her, inch by delicious inch.

"Ahhh, nice, so nice," she said. Sandra's arms looped around his neck. She possessively held him; he was a keeper, she thought, as she clutched him with her knees. "I feel so full."

"You are full, my dear Sandra. I'm filling you to the brim."

"You've got me turbocharged, you know that, right?"

"I can feel your oil slick dripping all over me."

"Just keep the production line moving." Marshall held her face with his hands. He kissed her pouty lips as he gave her an extra-firm thrust. "You like that?"

"I love it," she said. "Full throttle."

They moved together, entangled. The couch creaked slightly. Sandra felt herself getting warm and tingly again, even more than before, with Marshall's tongue dancing in her mouth and his cock gliding in and out like a warm fleshy piston in a moist cylinder. She was surprised out how light he felt. Such a husky man would make her feel crushed, but not Marshall. Even in his passion, he kept one foot on the floor so his full weight, 80 pounds more than Sandra's, would not make her uncomfortable.

Sandra heard him gasping. "Are you OK, my love? Do you need to rest?"

"Yes, that's a good idea. I'll stay in you. I'm out of practice," said Marshall, feeling winded.

"You're just getting into training. We'll do lots of practice laps," said Sandra. His cock pulsed inside her, even as he pushed lightly. Resting, Marshall turned her on more than many men in full battle cry. Something about him . . .

He slipped out and they lay side by side on the couch. Sandra's heart was racing, from lust, from love, from the sheer exuberance of being with this man.

"You know I think you're very special," she cooed. "I knew that the first time I met you."

"Yeah, you've been growing on me. Even when you were so pissed off about your glasses breaking, you were great. You're just, I don't know, I feel good around you," said Marshall. He kissed her nose. His breathlessness abated so he didn't feel so overwhelmed and clogged. His sense of Sandra, his hunger for her, sharpened.

"We have a lot of things in common. Shall I list them?" said Sandra. His hairy chest rubbed her nipples like little fingers tickling her.

"I know one thing we both like. We were just doing it. Ready to resume?" he said. After a few minutes' rest, he wanted to devour her.

"Get out the green flag and let's go, Marshall Andretti," she said.

Marshall arranged a couch pillow under her head. "More comfortable?" he said.

"Yes, very comfortable. Now, where were we?"

"I had my cock in you, I believe, like . . . this," he said. The open legs welcomed him. Again he slipped in, all the way, until their pubic hair intertwined like Spanish moss. "Yes, here's where we were, and, let's see, I was fucking you slowly."

"You had your cock in me, and filled me up. You've got the high octane ready."

"You had already come, and I think you want to come again."

"I do, and I am. You're driving me meshuga the way you touch me."

"Ahh, my Sandra, you are just sex, from head to toe."

"And in between? Something you like there?" She pouted in an exaggerated way, like a little girl with hurt feelings.

"Every centimeter of you, you're just made for being kissed."

"Oh, I like that answer. You'll kiss every inch soon enough, right?" she said.

"Sandra, a girl who knows what she likes."

"You better believe it." She kissed him possessively and thought, again: a keeper.

The rest did wonders for Marshall's rhythm. He no longer had the flailing feeling, as if he were an engine about to fly apart from too much stress. Now, he had an eager but more controlled approach. Her wet scalloped lips welcomed him, kissed him, held him and sucked him in.

She saw his eyes scrunch tight. Marshall bit his lips. "My cunt is so wet and open for you Marshall, yes," she whispered. "It felt so good when you were sucking my nipples and my clit. I know you liked that."

"Mmm, sweet talker you are," he said. He was bearing down in her now.

"Your cock filled my mouth so good, so sweet such a sweet man, we're so right for each other," she whispered (planting ideas subliminally couldn't hurt!). "I can feel you getting bigger in me. You're filling me up great."

He sucked her ear lobe. "Be careful or you're going to give me ideas."

"I've had them already, my sweet. Think of all the things we can do."

"In your car, in my office . . ." he gasped.

"Mmm, in my ass," she whispered. "I want to be such a dirty girl for my man."

As she expected, Sandra's sexy whispering pushed Marshall's button and boosted him to turbospeed. And the harder and hot he got, the more turned on Sandra became. Their ragged breathing was a chorus of arousal. They passed their sexual craziness back and forth. "Oh, Marshall, fuck me hold me,"

"Sandra, I'm going to fill you up, right now. Hold me tight," he moaned.

"I am, my lover, I am. Fill 'er up."

She felt his breathing stop, suddenly. With her arms around his neck and back, Sandra held on with a fevered grip. The hot ball was flaring in side her, forced on by the great plunging drive of Marshall's hips. He no longer thrust in and out, but rigid and bursting, he pushed all the way in and kept pushing back and forth inside, inching her up the couch. The eruption of his cock felt like lava to Marshall and Sandra, almost too hot to bear, every nerve centered on their connection, his cock reaching deep in her, Sandra's muscles gripping and squeezing him like a fist as she came.

Finally, they were gasping and wheezing like two athletes after a long, hard run. Marshall leaned back on the couch. Sandra, tangled still in her blouse and bra, cuddled against his chest. "Let's get those clothes off you. Be naked against me," said Marshall, pulling the wrinkled remnants off her.

"Great idea. I want to feel all of my skin against you." She felt totally free and naked against him. Sandra curled her legs up on his lap.

"I'm speechless. That was amazing," he said. "I don't know what to say."

She put a finger to his lips. "Shaa, no talking if you don't want to. I'm limp. Let's hold each other and get our breath back."

So, they did. The mall had closed. The music on the stereo had switched to a classical symphony, lulling, a sonic river meandering through sun-dappled fields, butterflies darting among the water droplets. Sandra curled against his chest and kissed him. She shuddered, still reeling from her orgasms. The lights in the shop were very low. Marshall's warm hands stroked her hair, her cheek, the curve of skin from her shoulder blade to her forearm. She was melting into him. Her eyelids felt heavy. She felt as if she had been turned inside out and then turned again.

"So dreamy. I can't stay awake," she said, drifting away.

"Shluf, shluf, mein kind. Sleep, sleep, my child," he said in endearing Yiddish that reminded Sandra of her grandmother. "No rule says you need to stay awake."

"Came so hard . . . you take the checkered flag . . . my lover Marshall . . . keep holding me . . . never let go," she whispered. He could tell her lights were dimming, dimming, out.

She was asleep on him, weightless and warm as a downy kitten. Their mingled juices dripped out of Sandra and down his thigh. The liquid touch reminded him of their new passion, how far they had come. Marshall shook his head. Amazing that we found each other, he mused; Who knew? And, of course, who knows?

"I'll never let you go, my Sandra," he said, then closed his eyes. He could just hear Sandra, asleep, whispering, "Choo-choo, choo-choo."