The Healing of Adam Cross Pt. 03

Adam waited, imbuing his expression with as much thoughtfulness and tenderness as he could, as much understanding and promise of gentility as he was capable of expressing. Neither was concerned about the experience hurting Michelle—the women had already admitted that very large, very ribbed dildos were commonplace in their love life. Still, rubber was one thing, real flesh another thing entirely.

In the end it was Holli who took control. "Do it, Adam," she whispered softly, her senses now fully regained and every fiber of her being trained on the two looming above her. "She's ready."

Michelle turned around to face her lover and the women shared a long look, filled with meaning, before Holli bent forward and their lips met, and Adam knew that that was his cue. Michelle wished to be taken with the lips of Holli upon her.

And so he clutched tighter the rounded orbs of the blonde girl's rump and positioned himself, and pushed forward.

A series of events followed the penetration, each pleasurable and emotional and glorious in their own special ways: the constrictive walls of Michelle's vice-tight pussy gripped and sucked at his meat as it passed, shooting waves of pleasure through Adam until he finally bottomed out and took pause; Michelle's eyes bulged and she whimpered into Holli's mouth, a whimper that became a grunt that became the deepest sort of sigh; Holli sighed and smiled as her lover took a man for the first time in a long time; Michelle gasped and her eyes fluttered shut, and her head dropped down as Adam began to move, stroking in and out at a leisurely pace; and the eyes of Holli and Adam met, her stunning blues to his striking grays, and there was as much said in the look of their eyes as with anything else that had happened that night.

Adam took his time fucking Michelle, letting her feel it, letting her relish the sensations—and she certainly seemed to relish it well. There were whimpers and grunts, and groans and moans, and little sighs and gasps, and every sound in between emanating from the throat of the beautiful blonde, and soon her hips and rump, too, got in on the action, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

Holli could not keep the huge smile off her face, a smile that practically overwhelmed her eyes. She kissed Michelle on the lips and cheeks, and stroked her hair, and alternated her loving gaze between her and Adam, never lingering long on one or the other.

Adam did notice, however, the exact moment when the smile of Holli changed. Having spent a good deal of time with the woman both in bed and out, he knew her well enough now to tell when her mind was working—and also when a sudden sort of wickedness had come upon her. It was proven correct a moment later, when she twisted around and scurried beneath the body of Michelle in the classic sixty-nine position, parking her face directly beneath a cock-filled pussy.

Upon the clitoris of which she began to lick and suck—not to mention the heavy testicles hanging above her, too.

Michelle squealed and Adam groaned, the former as her sex was assaulted by a secondary source even as she was filled to the brim again and again, the latter as the incredibly sweet heat and tightness of fucking a woman was simultaneously matched with the sensation of having a tongue baste his balls.

Adam picked up his pace, really giving to the petite blonde before him, who was pretty much a quivering nonsensical mess by that point. She was whimpering and moaning, but there was very little actual coherence to the sounds. If she was trying to articulate words, she was having a very difficult time of it.

"Fffffuuuuuuuaaaahhhhhh! Unnnhhhhh . . . unnnhhhhh . . . oooooohhhhhhh mmmmmmm . . . hhhhhmmmmm . . . unnnhhh . . . unnnhhhh . . . aaaahhhhhhh nnooooooo pppllllllaaaaahhhh . . . oh my gggggaaaaaaaaa . . . unnnhhh . . . unnhhhh . . . fffuuuuuuuuuaaaaahhhhhhh!"

His hands latched onto her ass as he boosted his power yet again. His hips slapped against her rump and thighs, punishing her flesh even as his cock pummeled the depths of her womb, spearing in and out, impaling her fully with every down-stroke. He wondered how much more the girl could actually take.

He found out moments later.

One sleek, sexy arm curled around from beneath Michelle, touching down at the small of her back before sliding lower into the crack of her bottom. Clearly, Holli had a specific purpose, and she wasted little time revealing it. The middle finger of her hand was glistening wet already, prepped earlier for its voyage by Holli's mouth, and as it slipped lower it zeroed in right away on the small rosebud set in the center of the crack.

Without wasting any time, before Michelle likely knew at all what was happening, Holli's finger pushed past the blonde girl's anus and into the depths of her bowels, all the way up to the second knuckle.

Michelle practically exploded.

First, it was the blood-curdling scream. Second, it was the unfettered spasms wracking her limbs. Third, it was the contractions—almost painful they were so fierce—of the muscles of her pussy around the meat of his cock, followed by the flood of juice that suddenly poured out from the cracks and crannies of her sex to coat his shaft, balls, and the skin and hair of his crotch.

And so Adam could hold himself back no longer.

He groaned as for the third time that night spurted load after load from the depths of his balls, this time into the tight pink womb of Michelle Johnson. It lasted for some time, longer than he would have ever expected given that it was his third time, and he could feel his semen mixing with her juices, the combo oozing out around his cock.

Holli took one last lick of Michelle's clitoris and one last swipe of Adam's balls before she scooted out from under them, and her move proved a good one: it was barely three seconds removed from her getting clear before Michelle and Adam collapsed to the floor in a sweaty heap.

The latter closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

The afterglow was long and lovely.

When the orgasms began, when Michelle dumped a load of her sweet nectar and Adam tensed for the burst, Holli knew she would need to move relatively quickly. She swiped one last taste of each of them and high-tailed it out from under, and a snap of the fingers after she was free both Michelle and Adam collapsed right on top of that spot where she'd been.

The two were wrecked, breathing heavily and still trembling in some places, and Holli inched forward and lay down with them to cuddle until they were calm.

It was silent for quite some time, the only sound the sounds of their breaths, but there was a great deal of soft caressing. Six hands moved slowly and tenderly, trailing over hips and stomachs and breasts and legs, over arms and shoulders, through hair and down the slopes of necks. There were all three weary, but still relishing to comfort and feel of one another, the warmth of their bodies and the feel of their flesh. It was Michelle who spoke first, finally.

"Wow," she whispered with a great deal of husk.

"Yes," Holli responded with a smile.

Michelle giggled. "You were right, my love. He's very good."

"Yes," Holli agreed, and bent to kiss the cheek of the man.

He opened his eyes and smiled, but said nothing. He did not need to.

"I'm going to need to do this again," Michelle cooed, "and soon."

Holli laughed. "Of course, sweetie," she said. "Of course."

"Just give me a minute," Adam breathed, and they laughed.

And each of them knew it would not be their last laugh together.

Chapter 06: Sunday Encounters

"Hello, my name is Trent and I'm a sex addict."

A chorus of voices answered, "Hello, Trent," followed by the lone voice of the moderator, an elderly and motherly looking lady with frazzled gray hair, who added, "Thank you for coming. Would you like to share?"

Trent McCullough surveyed the circle of chairs and people before him with the outward air of a conflicted man. It had been some time since he'd prowled the sex addict meetings, but he found himself slipping easily back into the role he presented to the group—even as he was studying and cataloguing its females as a predator might survey its prey before the feast.

There were twelve people in the circle, five men and seven women. Of the seven women, which were the ones Trent was concerned with, four were workable prospects. He was certainly not going to tap into the moderator; she was old enough to be his mother, and disconcertingly looked like her, too. A second woman was younger, but decidedly unattractive, while a third looked like your garden variety militant lesbian, complete with camouflage pants and boots.

The four who remained were a beautiful twenty-something blonde, another blonde with pigtails who could not have been more than twenty, a petite brunette probably in her early thirties, and another young brunette with big tits. He would work to get information on all of them.

Oh, how he loved these meetings.

"I am thirty years old and think about sex all the time," Trent began, using one of his best stories. "I love my wife, she is my shining star, but she cannot satisfy the intense craving I have. She is not very sexual. Lovable, yes, but not sexual. She only likes missionary." There were several gasps from the women at that. "I have fought my addiction for two years now, two terrible years, but I can feel myself falling apart at the seams. If I do not fuck someone soon, a woman who knows how to fuck hard, and good, and long, I don't know if I will be able to survive. Is it wrong to fuck another person to save your marriage?"

With a pained expression, Trent returned to his chair. He could feel the eyes of the women upon him, feeling for him, understanding him, and most wonderfully, wanting more than anything else to fuck his brains out right then and there.

The moderator sighed. "It is difficult for us to answer such questions, Trent," she said soothingly. "Only you can answer such a question. Our group, however, is here to listen and support, and to offer some comfort."

The pig-tailed blonde sat directly to Trent's left and rose after a few moments of silence. "Hi, my name is Kaitlyn and I'm a sex addict."

"Hello, Kaitlyn," the moderator said. "Welcome back. Would you like to share?"

The girl was nervous and her eyes (beautiful baby blue) kept flittering nervously in Trent's direction. He knew with absolute certainty that the girl was his, if he wanted her, which—given her smoking hot body, gorgeous face, and pigtails—was not a question needed to be asked.

"I'm eighteen and my parents are super-rich. They still think I'm a virgin, but I've been having sex for almost four years. I think about it all the time. I imagine myself fucking every man I see, even the ugly ones. It's like I can't get enough. Lately, I've been thinking more and more about butt sex, which is the only thing I haven't done, 'cause I've heard I'll go to hell if I do it."

She sat down quickly with her eyes glued to the floor.

Trent reached out and took the girl's hand in his own. Those baby blue eyes looked up into his, wide and wondering, and looking for something to latch on to. Trent had something for her to latch onto, but that would not be until later. He softened the features of his face and said softly, "If you're going to hell, my dear Kaitlyn, then all of us will see you there."

The group nodded its sober assent, and so the meeting went, with each of the remaining participants sharing their particular story. Trent was able to learn quite a bit.

The brunette with big tits was a recovering drug addict with ties to the porn industry, and clearly a complete and utter basket case. She would need some serious therapy to straighten herself out, which Trent would be more than willing to give. The petite brunette was a soccer mom with two kids—and a husband who never wanted to have sex, despite her own ravenous appetites. Trent assumed he'd be fucking her before the week was up. The fourth woman, the beautiful twenty-something blonde, was bisexual with a severe submissive streak, and worried that her desire to be dominated would put her in dangerous situations.

The information came in handy; by the end of the social time—thirty minutes post-meeting when participants are able to talk amongst themselves and show their collective support of one another—Trent had four phone numbers burning a hole in his pocket.

They would not remain in his pocket for long.

* * *

Josie Haynes was a good girl, which was what Jocelyn liked best about her. She was smart, spirited, and self-assured—like the rest of the girls—but she was not naïve like Heather, nor cool like Kelsey, nor brazen like Tiffany, and for those differences and more, Jocelyn had loved her dearly. Adam long knew that Josie had been Jocelyn's favorite, the bond between them deepest.

Which is why he was very happy to find the youngest member of that quintet standing before his door on a leisurely Sunday afternoon, donning a cute little workout ensemble, her lovely blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, her green eyes bright and lively.

"Hi, Josie," he said cheerfully. "What a pleasant surprise."

Adam himself had opened the door wearing only a pair of board shorts, which left his chest bare. He noticed her gaze lingering there before she said in a soft voice, "Hi, Adam. It's been awhile."

Adam beckoned her forward. "It has," he admitted. His mind thought back. "I've only seen you three times since the funeral."

Josie nodded and her lovely green eyes lifted from the floor to meet his grays. "How are you feeling?" she asked in a quiet voice.

And in that moment Adam, who had been doing as well as he could have expected in the eight months since Jocelyn's death, felt the stirrings again of grief in the depths of himself, and it registered on his face.

"Why," he replied in a suddenly strained voice, "can I be asked that question by so many people, so many times, and be fine, but when you ask it my ears ring and my chest tightens?"

Josie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed him tightly, and it felt better than many of the more obvious pleasures he'd experienced over the past few days. "Because you know how much I loved her, too," she answered.

They remained like that for a long, long moment, enjoying the contact between them that contained very little in the way of sexual tension and much in the way of mutual love. With her head against his chest, Josie could hear the steady beating of Adam's heart. With his chin resting on her head, Adam could smell the wonderful scent of her hair and, with her body pressed against his, could feel the fleshy mounds of her breasts.

"Thank you," he said finally.

She smiled. Her teeth were brilliant white and her eyes dazzled. "My pleasure," she replied.

He grinned and led her by the hand over to the couch. "But you did not come here just to give me a hug," he said, and it was not a question.

She blushed shyly and lowered her eyes. "No," she admitted. She looked at him again. "I have missed you, Adam. You and Jocelyn were the couple I've always felt the most comfortable with. I love the other girls, too, but the boys . . . well, I've always liked having you around."

Adam was not surprised. He nodded his understanding.

"Tiffany told us everything," Josie said in that same shy voice she used when nervous or embarrassed. Adam had always found it incredibly alluring—Josie was massively attractive, after all—but the actual words spoken occupied his attention.

"I had expected something like that might happen," he admitted. "What happens now?"

Josie met his gaze again and this time, the barest hint of a smile crept onto her lips. "I think you know them well enough to know exactly what is coming."

Adam stared for a long moment. "Ah," he said finally.

It was Josie's turn to grin. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked. "Tiffany is one thing, but trying to handle Tiffany and Kelsey and Heather, all of whom are angry about their husbandsandexcited about something new at the same time, might be even more than you can manage. Not to mention I hear there might be another woman in your life."

Adam grinned and rolled his eyes. "Two, actually," he told her. "Word travels fast. But there are no romantic entanglements there, either—they're a couple themselves, and mostly into girls."

Josie arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked again.

He shrugged. "As much or as little as any man," he said, and then cocked his head and looked at the young woman inquisitively. "Kelsey, Tiffany,andHeather, huh? What about you, Josie?"

Her eyes widened. "Me?" she asked in a voice heavy with shock. "I don't . . . I'm not asking if . . . I never meant you and me . . . I mean, you don't have to . . . wait, what do you mean?"

Adam laughed. "No, Josie," he said, "I'm not asking what you think I'm asking. I'm asking about you and other men. Any prospects?"

Josie sighed with relief and shook her head. "Not really," she told him. "Guys kind of suck, actually."

Adam hesitated for a moment, then took a chance and asked what he had known to be true for some time, despite how much Jocelyn tried to conceal it. "What about women?" he asked gently.

Josie's eyes widened. "She told you," the girl whispered in a wavering voice.

Adam shook his head. "No," he said honestly, "but you were one of her favorite topics. She truly loved you, you know. While she never came out and said anything to me, Jocelyn never worked to hide anything either. It was easy to read between the lines; I like to think she wanted me to. How long were the two of you . . .?"

He trailed off, leaving it open for her to finish. Josie could not believe she was having this discussion. She'd gone over to warn him about what was coming because she was concerned, and because she missed him, and here she was confronting long buried secrets and truths.

"Since we were teenagers," the girl admitted. "We ended our . . . physical relationship when she realized she was getting serious about you. She loved you so very much, Adam."

His eyes were soft as he said, "You, too."

Josie smiled. "Yes, but we knew our love wasn't the kind you take with you. We loved each other, but we both needed men in our lives. There is something to be said for the kind of emotion and intensity a man brings to relationships. We both knew we needed that."

"Do the others know?"

Josie shook her head. "No," she revealed. "We worked very hard to keep our intimacy a secret. We didn't want it to upset the balance of the group."

"And now?"

It was at that moment that Josie began to cry.

Adam rose from his chair and went to sit beside her, and offered her his arms once again. And Josie settled into them with a sigh and a sniffle, and he allowed her the time to cry and grieve for her lost friend and lover, and the youth they had shared.

* * *

Two hours north in the city of Santa Barbara, another beautiful blonde was snuggled in the arms of a man, crying about the loss of Jocelyn Barnes.

The dark blue eyes of Jessica Barnes were heavy with tears that rolled down her cheeks and fell across the chest of her boyfriend. Tim was a member of the UCSB baseball team and the two had been dating for three months.

"I miss her," Jessica whispered in a soft voice.

Tim was less than thrilled about having to deal with her emotions at the current moment, but Jessica could not see him roll his eyes. She could only hear the words he spoke, which oozed with comfort that seemed sincere. "It's alright," he said as he patted her back.

"I was so strong," Jessica said fiercely, "but when I saw Adam again everything just came back to me. I'd been bottling it up. I've been like this since he left."