A Girl on the Bus Pt. 08

"Let me get something for dessert, and we can be comfortable over on the couch." Delilah nodded her head towards the living room, where a wide three-seater couch sat within a bay window, a lamp turned low at each end. Thick cushions lay in both corners, and in front of it, a low coffee table centred on an Afghan rug of geometric design.

"Sounds good. What can I do to help?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just be yourself. I like that in a man."

"Just be me, huh?"

"Yes, just be you."

Delilah looked at me and I fell under her careful surveillance. Her gaze was as frank as mine, no caution, no care. Her hands, like mine, were visible on the table between us. Her left hand - two extended fingers and her thumb - rested on the stem of her wine glass, and her right hand rested on the table. Other than her foot on my penis we were disconnected. I was sated from the meal, curiously disembodied, falling into some other place.

"Just you. And me," Delilah said, but I didn't know what she meant. 'And me?' I was with her in her little apartment. We'd just eaten, I'd seen her naked, I'd shared her food. I'd loved her before, other nights, her hands on my backside holding me inside her, urging me into her with repeated, sighing prayers, oh god, oh god, oh god...

"Watch me."

Delilah's right hand dropped beneath the table like a magician's disappearing trick. I hardly saw the movement. The fall of the dressing gown shifted about her torso and I felt a small rearrangement of her foot on my cock. The line of her body moved an inch or two on her chair as she made herself more comfortable. She pressed her fingers down onto the base of the glass as if to stop it sliding, to anchor it in place on the table. Or to anchor herself.

I watched Delilah masturbate, saw the darkness in her eyes expand with arousal as she drugged herself in a slow pleasure. My own vision shifted sharper, the colours from the flickering candles glowing with a new intensity. From the corner of my eye I saw a trick of the light illuminate a radiant red of red wine, like bright blood on a dark velvet drape. The room around me became more vivid, then closed in on itself as my attention focussed in on Delilah.

Above the table she was motionless, poised with a delicate tension, her long fingers arched on the base of the glass. Below the table I imagined two fingers gliding on each side of her clitoris, briefly dipping fingertips into wetness, slicking the honey back up and over the nub.

Delilah had a way of exposing the bud of her clit, the dark red head like a tropical flower's fresh vivid bruise, its stamen emerging from a deep convolute; finding the tiny shaft and easing it up between her fingers, exposing it from within its hood. The tip of her clit was far too sensitive for anything but the flat of my tongue over it, but she'd squeeze the shaft tightly, offering up the little stub for my mouth, the backs of her fingers against my lips.

There was always a point, whenever I watched her, where her arousal became too much for the light and she'd close her eyes and stop moving, seeking darkness and slower surrender. She'd begin again, opening her eyes with heavier lids, with a single low gasp she'd just reached the surface from drowning. Each time her eyes became more glazed, as if she were fighting the sensation between what she saw and the intensifying pleasure inside her.

My cock stiffened to its full length and I reached down to press it against her foot, holding the heat of it against Delilah's skin. She'd found a comfortable position, but her foot was motionless now, my hand holding us still beneath the table. My prick was a hot blood shaft, my nipples tight in a familiar triangle of interconnected nerves.

I heard a tiny, tiny sound, the slick of fingers on sliding flesh, and knew that Delilah was dipping her fingertips into her sex as she found the next step up in her pleasure. Above the table, she remained motionless, but I saw a faint flush darken the pale skin of her throat. And still she held her gaze on me.

"Pleasure yourself, Delilah. Don't wait for me." My voice was low, barely a whisper; there was plenty of time for me. Seeing her play was enough. I had plenty of time, I wasn't in a rush.

Delilah closed her eyes in a final surrender and gave herself up to her pleasure, my hungry eyes and my consuming look. I leaned forward, removing her foot from my groin and placing it on the floor, where I spread both her feet wide with my feet to open her legs wide apart. Her cunt spread wider, I could smell her. Up on the table, Delilah's fingers pressed white onto the base of the wineglass, and the wine shimmered in tiny ripples as she began to shake.

I eased the glass from her fingers so it wouldn't fall, sliding it away from the edge. I sat back, my shaft hot in my hand but held quite still. I gazed at Delilah as her pleasure intensified, her throat arching back. Suddenly, she reached over to push the glass further towards the centre of the table, then put that hand inside her gown, spreading the cloth away from her body. The exposed breast, its nipple hard and long, was a dark thick pink. Delilah cupped her tit, then pulled up and twisted the nipple.

She settled into a rhythm, and from her movements I guessed her cunt and nipple were receiving the same rhythmic attention. I began to stroke myself slowly, fascinated by her concentration. I'd seen women masturbate before, but they'd often seemed tentative. Delilah, though... she gave herself what she wanted, she didn't hold herself back.

She brought her cunt wet fingers up to her mouth and covered them with spit, wiping her lips till they shone. My prick ached in response. I ran a palm over the head, too sensitive to touch and I knew it, and gasped with the quick shock of a delicate pain.

Delilah's eyes flashed open at the sound of my breath. She held her gaze on my face, and her pupils were almost completely black. "Oh god, oh god, ohhhh fuuuuck, don't look away, don't..."

She licked her lips and I heard faster sounds, and her body shook with the quick movement of her fingers. I could smell her, and alongside that scent was my own scent rising. A crystal clear bead of pre-come glistened at the mouth of my tiny slit. I watched it for a second, astonished, as another tiny clear diamond emerged, as if pulled out by an invisible thread. Where there jewels inside my body, crystalline and pure? Or black carbon, darkened by lust?

I looked back to Delilah and she was nearing the point of final release, the point where she'd finally topple over the edge and find herself falling, falling, then soaring as she started to fly.

"Delilah," I whispered, "come for me, darling." The endearment curled on my tongue as I dared claim her as mine. She wasn't mine to claim, she never was. Please, Delilah, I pleaded, come for me.

The movement in her body suddenly stopped and the hand on her tit gripped so hard the flesh turned white between her fingers. I knew the same fierce clasp would be between her legs, the palm of Delilah's hand pressing hard against her pubic bone, urging every sensation, every hard pressure down onto the shaft of her exposed clitoris.

"Ooohh, fuu...ck, fuu..." her moan drawn out to the final edge: "...ck." Her throat closed with the final exhortation, her body heaved, and Delilah came. Watching her face was exquisite joy, seeing her features somehow transformed into a being of pure pleasure, pure delight, as ecstasy washed over her. Was this what an angel looked like?

With a shudder of an aftershock, Delilah's leg jerked against the table, and I watched with slow fascination as the wine glass, as if in slow motion, toppled over. The contents of the glass, about a quarter full, spilt up out of the bowl and through the air, splashing onto the table before me. The glass fell with a bell-like ring but didn't break. I watched, with a slow curiosity and a complete inability to move, as the wine slid to the edge of the table nearest me and dropped blood red down over my blood hot cock. I didn't feel any new sensation, just saw the amazing colour.

The room froze. Delilah must have heard the ring of the ending bell: "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. What a mess. Here." Delilah threw me a serviette which I dropped down onto my lap.

"It's only wine," I said. "Doesn't hurt at all." I showed her. "See. No blood."

It looked like blood, but it wasn't. My cock ached, I was so hard, so aroused. Delilah had come, but I hadn't, not yet. "But you, was that good? It sure looked good." I brought it all back to Delilah, whose pleasure was more important than mine.

"Mmmm delicious. Very, very lovely." She laughed. "Better than sex!" She looked down, saw her bare breast, and covered herself up. "And you. What would you like? It must be your turn. And mine, to watch."

"Mmmm, yes, seeing you come... that's only fair. But not here." I pointed to the lounge. "Over there."

"Go on then. You practical man. Let me get something first." Delilah got up from the table, wrapping her gown about her body in a shapeless embrace. She went to the pantry and took a bar of dark chocolate, already opened, from a shelf. "For later," she said, showing me the block in its purple wrap.

I picked up the wine bottle and our glasses, wiped the spilt rim quickly and touched the kiss of her lipstick with my fingertip, then went over to the couch. I made myself comfortable at one end, my feet up on the centre cushion. Delilah put some music on and joined me, sitting up the other end. She kicked my feet apart with hers, straightening her legs to find my erection with her feet.

"My turn to watch. Show me."

"You too," I replied. "You know how men are visual creatures. We like something to see."

"Like my pussy, you mean?"

"That too."

Delilah laughed, and undid her gown.

"Go on," she said, and I undid mine.

Delilah lay back, her delicious body revealed. She presented herself to me, unashamed, the glow of her orgasm still alive on her skin, fading in a delicate blush on her upper chest and neck. Her little gold cross, skewed at an angle on its delicate chain, lay at the base of her throat. Her breasts seemed fuller, heavy with pleasure - but that might have been mine, seeing her. Delilah lay somewhat sideways, the lower side of one breast a crescent moon on her chest, the other pressed against her upper arm. Her nipples were puffed up and thick.

I wanted to rest my head on Delilah's thigh, my cheek near her sex, and gaze up that long body to her mouth. I knew she'd smile down at me. I wanted her hand, light on my head, softly stroking my hair, soothing me. I wanted her hand to cradle my balls, heavy and full, while she took the head of my cock in her mouth to give suck. I wanted to be inside her, long and slow, her eyes holding mine in a long fuck. I wanted to spill seed on her breasts and smooth it in like some decadent lotion. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted... I needed Delilah right then. My hand slowly moved on my cock.

"Adam," her low voice broke through my revery, "look at me." I heard Delilah's soft words and in my mind saw her eyes, the way she looked at me with her quiet appraisal, measuring me for her memory and her moments, just as I held her vision in my head for mine. My hand moved slowly on my cock, easing into my pleasure with a slow, languorous rhythm: up... and down, up... and down. I opened my eyes to look at Delilah.

She cupped the high breast in one hand, gently teasing and playing with the nipple. She looked straight at me, then looked down to my cock, thick and hard in my hand slowly stroking up... sliding down. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if to stay focused, and the red tip of her tongue licked her lips. The long fingers of her other hand crept into her rich red dark place, still glistening from her earlier arousal. Delilah moved her fingers slowly inside herself, in... and out, in... and out, her eyes on my cock, watching me. She eased her two fingers over the shaft of her clit, and the bud was the darkest red, nearly purple, deepest red.

I lay back as I always did, shifting my body for its comfortable fuck, my hand slow and curving about my shaft. I ran my hand down over my balls, cupping them full, then traced three fingers up the shaft. My prick bounced.

"It's got a mind of its own," Delilah whispered. "Keep stroking. I love watching how you do it."

I love seeing your fingers in you, but my mouth was dry, I didn't say it.

With the pads of my fore and middle fingers I found that tiny smooth place where the base of my head joined the shaft and rubbed there, my fingers moving less than an inch, back and forth. My other hand on my chest, I teased and flicked up the stiff tip of a nipple, tiny and tight, the nerve connections spiking down deep to my balls, and my whole body morphed into my cock. I tilted my head back, feeling the familiar lovely ache spread behind my chest, behind both nipples, and I wanted her teeth to nip and bite them. I stroked myself faster as I watched Delilah's fingers move into her cunt, deep and slow.

Silver threads ran between us, tying our spiking sensations together. I imagined my shaft in her sex, her mouth on my cock, my mouth on her sweet pussy and I began to fuck myself faster. I wanted to suck myself and fuck myself and for Delilah to take me harder.

"Fuck me faster, Delilah, make me come." I moaned deep in the back of my throat, my hand moving faster on my shaft. My foot bucked, and I stroked quickly, my head arching back as my finger tips pinched a nipple, flicking it hard.

"That's right, baby, fuck yourself faster, yes, yes, that's it. Fuck yourself for me, my angel, my beautiful man." Delilah urged me on. I opened my eyes for a brief moment and saw the way she watched me. "Mmmm, show me; show me how you do it." Her voice crooned low, a rough rasp betraying her own arousal. "Show me how you fuu...ck yourself."

The click of her tongue was like a switch. I fucked myself faster with my hand, my legs spread wide for Delilah's eyes. I twisted my hand around my prick, gripping harder, twisting on the shaft, sliding faster.

"Fuck it harder, Adam, into my cunt my cunt my cunt." Delilah gave me a rhythm, a song, her words a guiding flow into my head. She took over my rhythm, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck fuck fuck ohhh... slowly Adam, slow down...

"That's it, nice and slow, show me that thick long cock, your cock my cunt your cock I want to see cream on my tits ohh... slowly baby, let me see... " Her voice lowered to a whisper and and I slowed the speed of my stroke to match her soothing voice. My cock felt harder, hotter, the shaft like a rod of steel. I eased a palm down over my balls and they were high and tight, pulled up close to my groin. I gripped them, my high state of arousal letting me handle them more firmly, pulling them down from my body.

"More," Delilah's low voice sounded closer. "Doing that, your cock seems much longer, it'll fill me when you fuck me, fill me right up when we fuck. Would you like that my darling, filling your lover's cunt with that delicious cock, filling me up when we love?"

She gave me the beat of her promise, laying in the crude fuck words in between the endearments: lover, delicious, darling, leaving me nowhere to go, my mind split in two, her repetition urging me on. Behind my nipples, nerves in my chest spiked and I could feel my nipples tighten into two rigid tips. I wanted her teeth to bite me, so I flicked a nipple hard, instead.

"Doesn't it hurt, when you flick like that?"

I nodded. "Yes." That's the point. "I want it... the little pain's good."

There was silence in the room. I couldn't look. I started to stroke myself once more, my prick hot in my hand. I felt movement on the couch and a tear of paper.

"Would you like some chocolate, Adam, chocolate that's been inside me?"

I heard the snap as Delilah broke off a row of the dark sweet. I lazily opened my eyes and looked down at my cock cradled in my hand, my fingers sliding back and forth, back and forth. I looked across to Delilah and her eyes were fixed on the centre of me, watching my hand. She licked the end of the little chocolate blocks, smoothing the corners, but all the time staring at my prick.

"It's not the same as that beauty, your gorgeous cock, but it'll do." Delilah slid the row of chocolate into herself, sliding it back and forth. "God, I'm so wet."

"Give me some, Delilah. Cunted chocolate with the taste of you."

"Do you think I should take it to Cadburys?" she asked, biting off a square and passing the rest to me.

I took a bite, savouring the sweetness of the chocolate with her familiar, licorice taste.

"No," I replied. "I'm greedy. I don't want to share you."

She looked at me with her certain eyes, then dipped her fingers into her sex once again. "Come with me, Adam. I want to see you come."

Gazing into each other's eyes, Delilah and I settled into our own rhythms, weaving the pace of our fingers together; our long slippery sliding fingers, hers wet into herself, mine hot and gripping, hers shining and slipping, mine holding tight. "Moan for me, Adam." Delilah sighed.

"Say you want me, beauty..."

"... inside me."

"Sliding down on me, oooh grip me tight..."

"So deep... deeper..." Her fingers were buried, covered creamy smooth and shining with her juice. Delilah fucked into herself, watching me.

Faster. I couldn't speak, my hand gliding faster, my cock aching, my nipples tight. Sweet fuck, Delilah looked exquisite, so decadent, her cunt spread open with her fingers inside, letting me see, letting me look. We both lay back at our end of the couch... I knew I was close to coming and saw the way she pressed her clitoris up high and I curved my hand over the tip of my prick and shuddered.

Ahh yes, that felt good... and I was alone inside me, my pleasure, and I denied myself Delilah's eyes. I could no longer keep my eyes open, I could no longer look. Then, with an arch in my back and stroking much faster I reached that point...

...where everything stopped and my hand stopped moving... and with a low moan I came, my hot juice spurting high up to my chest, my cock pumping, once, twice, then a pause... twice more.

"Oh god," I heard Delilah whisper, "oh my god."

My eyes flickered open just in time to see Delilah's fingers stop on her clit, her breasts heaving with two quick breaths and a long shuddering sigh...

"Come for me, let me see."

... a second long shuddering sigh... and Delilah came, her fingers pressing deep into her wet sliding sex, Delilah came.

"Ahhh da... that's... what I want." Delilah shuddered, her orgasm slamming over her. "Ohhh god, fuck." I didn't know if it was a prayer or a plea, or even meant for me. Come for me, Delilah. In that moment, I wanted this woman more than sex, more than beauty.

I gazed at her languid recovery, watching the pale flush on her chest and neck slowly recede. I looked down at myself, my thick cock slowly softening, the stiffness gone, but still heavy. The splashes of semen lay in tiny pools on my chest, fading into my skin.

Delilah stirred. She sat up and her breasts swayed. She looked at me with that long, contemplative look before smiling, melting my mind with a soft delirium. "Adam," she said. "I might love you. Da, mожеt." Maybe. She knelt on the lounge, then fell forward onto my chest, into my arms, her lips on my throat.

"It is fourteen days, isn't it? I would go mad by myself."

"Fourteen, yes, a quarantine," I replied.

"Good," said Delilah, and took her weight on her elbows, studying my face. "Ahh, it is sticky." She tugged gently on the little gold cross, which had stuck to her skin in a drying cling from my semen.

Delilah kissed me on the lips, then stood up, closing her gown around her. "We go up to my bedroom now, and when you are hard, we love again. Da?" She was always so very practical.