A Woman Like Maxine

I reach for her while she’s in mid-stroke and, without breaking from me, she understands that I want to taste her. As she straddles my head, I take a brief, close look at the cunt I’ve idealized for years and breathe hotly on its swollen wetness before taking a long, penetrating lick from her clit to her anus. She groans deeply as my tongue flicks at her tart pucker, and I vow that I’ll eat a mile of her shit to get into her ass.

But first I have to drink deeply of her nectar. I open her labia with my fingers and place my mouth completely over her opening to suck her juices into my gullet. She moans continuously as I plunge deeply into her slit, squeezing her sweet inner lips with mine stretched over my front teeth. I lash out with my tongue to pierce deeply up into her sopping vagina, and am rewarded with a copious gush of fresh, salty honey. Her smell is intoxicating, and I finally probe forward to rasp at her clitoris, causing her to pull off my cock and yell happily. I continue to slip the hood on and off her nubbin, which grows to the size of a pea, engorged with her hot blood. I remember seeing its generous size from adolescence, and continue to torture it sweetly to her slobbering moans of delight, as her mouth plunges incessantly on and off my vertical member. I know that I must bring her to orgasm again – make her cum ‘til she’s weak – before I grant myself the release she’s causing my body to demand. I must, physically, show her the thanks owed her all these years that I’ve sawn away at countless different women, while clamping closed my eyes and imagining her luscious body writhing in my arms. It’s not genius, Maxine, I think to myself. It’s obsession – leavened by loneliness and stark terror – that drives me to be this way with you.

“Oh, Phil,” she whimpers suddenly in the midst of her moaning.“ Again…baby…I’m…Phil…I’ve gotta…oh…ohh…ohhh…ohhhh, gawwwwd, Philll-lllip!” she screams as her hips grind down against my mouth to slip her clit to and fro in tremulous spasms against my stiffened tongue. She’s taken her mouth off me and has laid her head on my thigh, kindly yet feebly pulling on my cock to help me, but only for a moment.

What a trouper she is! She rises up, still hyperventilating, and reverses her position to smother me with a deep kiss. I taste my own sweat and maleness on her stabbing tongue as she drools on my face, varnished with her slick juices, which she licks from my lips. Incredibly limber, she plants her feet on the sofa cushion and squats on my rod, taking enough of me in her tightness to strike her cervix, as she screams, “Yeeeaahhh!” Rockets flare behind my eyelids as I lose myself in the depths of her body.

I’ve never felt such feminine heat – nor such welcoming moisture – as I thrust deeply and quickly up into her center. The mere idea of being inside Maxine makes me want to cum immediately. Yet now my ego…and a sudden, grasping resolve for self-control…drives me to slow down. Seemingly still in orgasm from my tonguing, her continuous high gasps – that sound like a puppy being disciplined – cease and become long, melodious moans as she spirals off of me to return, now in a languorous fashion. Her juice seems to pour from her, coating my entire groin with a slick, loving glaze as our loins become acquainted in the most primal way. Her hands leave my chest to hold my face, and she looks into my eyes from above, uttering sweet little mewls as I hurry the pace a bit. It’s as if she’s studying me from a new perspective, yet the lusty scorch of her eyes hints at the kind of love – kept from me ‘til now – that she’s been forbidden to show since I was just a pubescent lad.

“I’ve wanted you…all this time…sweetie,” she says, reverting to the childlike nickname she’s used in the past. “You were…so sensitive…so innocent…I had the dirtiest…thoughts about you when you were…were a little guy,” she confesses, haltingly. “But now…oooohhh…honey, you’re so big…and it’s…nngh, sogood…I’m gonna…ohhh, Phil…I’m gonna cum again, honey. Real quick. Ohhh, yeeeaaahh! Ohhh, please…look at me…when I cum…babeeee,” she whines as she drops her knees to my sides and her eyes glaze. She’s trying to keep them open while her hips grind downward at me. Her nails dig into my upper arms and chest again and her eyes begin to close rapturously, but she shakes her head to clear her vision and opens them more widely, again to stare into me.

I want everything to slow down again. I want to memorialize this moment in stone, when the expansion of my body – I’m all cock now – meets the contractions of hers – she’s all cunt – and our fluids flow together, mingle, and blend into one unique, viscous dew. I want to climb into her, to draw her around me, to gambol and frolic as a child in her depths…to escape the screeching, butchering specters of death that visit me each time I sleep. I want to create an isle of safety for us, secure in her inner convolutions. For all of my cynicism, I realize that for the first time in my life I want to impregnate a woman...and I’m exhilarated that it’s this Maxine woman.

We both cum at the same time, but I’m focused singularly on my climax. It seems to take hours, yet I finally feel the dam burst as the seed boils up from my balls. I hold her hips firmly against mine – my glans pressed against her cervix – growling wildly as I pump her full, and she shrieks harshly each time a fresh blast of semen splashes into her. I almost hear the cellular explosions within her uterus as my feverish imagination pictures her conceiving. She clamps on my rigid cock like a vice, her vaginal muscles working furiously, and finally collapses onto me to lock our mouths together. We breathe one supply of air, from our linked, starving lungs, and moan a harmonic duet scored at two different octaves. Finally I am spent, though I remain hard for a while, and Maxine’s cunt flutters around me in tempo with her racing heartbeat. I find it amazing that the room is cold – though it’s the month of January and she‘s not turned on the heat – yet our clinging bodies are soaked with sweat. Then we lapse into a half slumber.

Maxine stirs first after many minutes, stretches out her cramped legs, and mumbles, “Jeezus Christ…Philip! You’re reallysomething!”

“C’mon, Maxine. Just doing my duty…for God and country,” I say, again ill at ease with her compliment as I use the hackneyed military phrase.

“Well, I don’t know about God, but I sure do appreciate your patriotism!” she jokes. “I’ve never cum three times in a half hour before!”

I guess I didn’t expect a sexual confession from this woman…the embodiment of all that is sensual to me. Yet I file away the information and remain mute, determined to use her frequency tally as a standard in any future trysts that we have.

My silence causes her to stretch full length onto me, lay her cheek on my chest, and hug me, shivering as she does so. “You sweet, sweet man,” she murmurs. After too short a moment of feeling her silky skin against mine, she sits up and reaches for the phone on the table at the other end of the sofa. “Now, I really do have to make a phone call. Gimme a minute, okay?” she asks. Dialing a number, she asks for Sharon…Sharon something…I don’t remember. “Sharon? It’s Max. Listen, I’m gonna take a few days off,” she says, shifting and leaning back against the armrest and pulling one knee up so that I see her pussy drooling my semen from its appetizing pinkness. My prick jumps automatically at the sight, and she watches it pulse as she speaks. She reaches over without hesitating and lays her warm palm on it. “Yeah,” she continues, “…we’ve got four shows in the can and I’ve got tons of vacation coming. Hmm? No, an old friend that I haven’t seen in years is in town…and I wanna spend some time with him. Five days, okay? Call me only if the sky is falling. Thanks. Bye-bye.” She hangs up, looks at me and unconsciously smells her hand, asking, “Want a drink, honey?…or some pot?”

“Yeah. JD if you’ve got it. Smoke’d be nice, too,” I say, looking forward to some real relaxation…with the first weed I’ve had since Nam. She leans forward and climbs up to look down at me, the nipples of her breasts caressing my chest softly, and kisses me quickly before she rises to trip into the kitchen, her sumptuous ass winking at me under two deep gluteal dimples. During her brief absence, I use her bathroom and marvel at my phenomenally good luck. I also notice a bottle ofWhite Shoulders perfume on her vanity and pull the stopper to smell the fragrance I’ve remembered since my teens.

In a moment, Maxine appears in the doorway – still naked and now bearing two drinks – looking sexily over her left shoulder at me and heading toward another room. There’s an unlit joint between her lips. “Well, are you coming?” she asks, out of the side of her mouth.

“Coming where?” I ask in return.

“To the bedroom, silly!” she grins, and disappears from sight.

As I wander in, she’s turned down the large bed – queen size I think – the drinks, two joints and an ashtray are on a bedside stand, and Maxine’s succulent body is leaning back against a spooled wooden headboard, surrounded by several pillows. Her breasts are full and don’t sag, their pink nipples challenging gravity. The shapely leg on her far side is attractively bent up at the knee, and her right index finger rests on her smiling lower lip, close to the corner of her mouth. With her flat left hand she’s smoothing the sheet next to herself, inviting me to join her. “Bring that big, muscular body right here, soldier. You look like you’re ready for some more R&R!”

We’re exhausted after about three hours of lovemaking, and both lapse into a deep sleep. Though Maxine has climaxed repeatedly, I haven’t.

Part 4

It’s a moonlit night and, as a CQ designate, I’m checking the guard posts on the perimeter surrounding our fleet of Huey gunships parked in a clearing. The posts are at the edge of the jungle outside the clearing and discipline is high…only whispers into the linking radios. Everything is blackened – weapons, gold badges of rank, hands and faces – and the moon is full. The OD is Lt. Hunter, a brash 90-day wonder out of a southern college who thinks his ROTC experience renders him close to God. I tap the 19-year-old trooper on the shoulder – Petrill’s his name – who’s manning a .30 caliber machine gun in his hole, and we watch silently…the only sound being the rasp of our breathing as we inhale the stench of rotting vegetation. Though it’s about midnight, the temperature is probably near 100 degrees and I wipe trickles of sweat from my eyes with the back of my sleeve. My frontal lobe feels dull, though the hair on the back of my neck and arms sticks out electrically. The night sounds have ceased: no fluttering birds, slithering snakes, crawling insects. We have other visitors. They are near.

I release the flap on the holster of my .45 and reach into my bloused pantleg for the .38 snubnose, which I keep as a backup. I stare ahead, nostrils twitching and ears straining for the slightest movement and…there it is! My eyes catch the movement of leaves, then another to the left, then yet another further to the right. I touch the kid and he regards my hand signals, three fingers and the approximate positions of the intruders. I indicate that I’ll take the one on the right. We see one more movement and I slap him on the shoulder as all hell breaks loose. The machine gun belches fire and I empty my .45 clip, reloading as I fire haplessly with my revolver and trip some Claymore switches, causing deafening explosions in the jungle facing us. The kid is good and beats the zone thoroughly as I’m shouting the position into the radio. The night is bathed white from flares and lights, and broad leaves pop around our heads from enemy small arms fire, as if they’re gathering huge, tropical raindrops. The kid stops firing and is in repose with a peaceful look on his face. He is dead. I’m now screaming at the Lieutenant to cut the lights since our ships are standing out in bold relief. I cry, “Stop! Stop! Stop!” and awaken, bathed in sweat, with Maxine clutching my soaking body.

“Baby! Baby! Baby!” she’s cooing to me, mopping my face and kissing me all over. “It’s okay, sweetie, you’re here now…I’m with you…I’m here.”

I sit bolt upright, shaking, and moonlight is pouring through the bedroom window. Maxine faces me, looking directly into my eyes, as her hands stroke my face. Tears cascade down her cheeks as she sniffles, then her shoulders jerk as she begins to sob. “Oh…God…what’ve they…done to you?” she gurgles between words. “Whyyou?”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “Just a bad dream,” I explain, embarrassed at showing such weakness, and remembering that the dangerously incompetent Lieutenant wheeled several 105 mm howitzers around from the opposite side of the perimeter, and blew the tops off of 13 parked gunships. The friendly fire also killed two radio maintenance guys working in the dark, installing equipment for the next day’s mission. “I have ‘em all the time,” I say, reaching for my glass on the night table, which I hope to drain to rid myself of momentary guilt and self-contempt. It’s empty.

She holds me as I lean back on an elbow, gluing her body to mine, and – whispering comforting woman things – kisses me a hundred times on my face, neck, shoulders and chest. When I’ve calmed, she says, “I’ll get you a drink, sweetie,” and is gone for a moment. I gulp half of it on her return, the warm, sweet whiskey soothing the tightness at the base of my skull. She’s brought a glass of water for herself. “Now,” she murmurs, “…lay back and relax, honey,” as she begins to lick my collarbone and chest, hardly missing an inch, as my heart rate increases at her lingual caresses. “You scared the shit out of me,” she murmurs, as her tongue licks in, around and below my navel, following the thin strip of hair down to my groin. I exhale deeply, for the first time in over a year it seems, as Maxine ministers to me like – I shake my head to exorcise the image – like some Saigon whore.

I’m half erect. But she has other ideas. She’s kneeling between my legs and lifts my cock and balls to lick at the goo in the creases on either side of my scrotum. I shrink slightly, sensitive to the foul combined tastes that she’s savoring as she sups at my crotch. Her knowing tongue then flicks lightly at my perineum – my “taint” – and I groan loudly. She glances up to smile at the sound, her face framed so gorgeously in the moonlight by her black hair, and her dark blue eyes flash behind long, dusky lashes as she utters an “aaanghslp” and licks lavishly at my balls. She rolls each in the hot cavern of her wet mouth, and slavers up the underside of my cock slowly to take me – oh…fuuuck…yeah…take me! – into her throat again this night. “Will you cum in my mouth, darlin’?” she asks before sliding her lips down and up, then lodging me in her throat again.

“Not sure I can,” I gasp, fearful that she’ll spit out the foul stuff in disgust.

“Mmm-no? Okay,” she says understandingly. “Then I’ll try something else.”

Slowly, and with her hand gently pumping the length of my rigid erection, she swings around with her back to me to straddle my hips while resting on her knees. Her succulent, round globes are parted and she raises her butt up enough that I can see her protruding inner lips, already wet and glistening in the moonlight. Holding my rod between her legs, she descends to envelop the crown of my dick and clenches her internal muscles a few times. Her pink anus blinks with each contraction. “Watch me, baby. Watch me fuck you…watch me love you,” she whispers, as she slides down my length until her buns rest close to my hips. I feel her cervix as she continues to work her vaginal muscles. She pushes down a bit more, groaning deeply, and I feel her internal sphincter dilate a fraction.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Maxine,” I gasp in a stage whisper.

“Shhh!” she utters, rather harshly. “I wanna do this, Philip!” Of course, Maxine always does what she wants, I remember from long ago, as she slowly impales herself on my prong, the head of which is now inside her womb. Her uterus is so hot inside that my glans feels nearly scalded, and she puffs many quick little breaths to aid her tender tissues in accommodating me. I lay motionless, afraid that any movement will rip her apart, and she begins a slow, stirring motion with her hips. “Aaahh, Gawwd…yeah! Yeah!” she exclaims now breathlessly, delighted in accomplishing her mission. “Now…cum for me, baby! Cum way inside me! I wanna feel your hot jizz pour into me! C’mon…c’mon…c’mon,” she whispers lewdly while screwing her hips 360 degrees in a full, flat circle.

I’m totally captivated by her body. The gentle, V-shaped outline of her torso from shoulders to waist is enough to halt my breathing. And the smooth muscles below her shoulder blades invite touches from my shaky, caressing fingers, as my thumbs trace down the barely perceptible bumps of her spine, perfectly bound on either side by a taut, vertical ridge. The flare from her waist to the outside of her splayed hips, though, is the most inviting, and the two deep gluteal dimples above her buttocks are the source – in retrospect – of a lifelong fetish. Each of my thumbs press gently into these, and I feel the striations in her silky butt as she swirls her lower body around my anchoring probe. Even the smooth, pink soles of her feet make my mouth water, with her toes that curl and uncurl as she executes her equatorial move.

I move one hand to the nape of her neck, first caressing it softly under the short hair, then I slide the other hand up and link my fingers softly around the whole neck, exploring the ridges of her windpipe and feeling its vibrations as she moans in her throat. I must have more of this woman. I’ve yet to scratch her surface, I think. As if in agreement, she murmurs to me some more. “Like the way I…feel, baby? Like to be…way up…inside me? Like the way…I fuck you? Hmmm?” she asks, gently and not really teasing. I get the feeling that she’s wary of my inner demons, and perhaps is trying to mollify them.

Yet I growl, “Ohh…yeahh…Gawwd, yeah,” and notice her hand between her legs, its movements indicating self-stimulation. I wish I could see her doing it but don’t want to interrupt. I want her to continue, and hope that at some point she’ll want to watch me do the same to myself.

“Goo-ood, honey,” she coos, her breath catching in her throat. “’Cuz I want you…to fill me up…fill me full of cum…please, Phil…cuz I’m gonna. Philip! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna, I’m, I’m, I’m…I’m…I’m…oh, Philllip…sweetieeeee, I cu’…cummm-mmming! Unh, unh, unh, unh, unh,” she grunts, thrashing her bottom at me frantically as all I do is hold her up to keep her from rolling off of me. As she winds down I pull her back against me, still in her womb, and she undulates to and fro atop me while I pinion her little body backward against mine. We wait for several moments before moving further.

When we do, she snuggles closely into the crook of my arm and, since I’m curious, I ask her where she got her lovely black hair. “Grandma was Persian. I got her hair genes. There’s some French. All the rest is Irish…including my temper,” she says. “And you’re gonna see some of that if you don’t cum in me, buster! I don’t care if you’re a stud, you’re making me feel inadequate as a woman!” she says, half frowning. She takes a deep drink of water, is silent a minute, and gets up. “Time for a bathroom break. Gimme a while, okay, baby?”

She’s taking a long time, I think, as I finish my drink and the joint she and I started hours ago. The dope’s good…Mexican stuff, I assume. But I think I’ll lay off it, now that I’m back. Besides, oh, here she comes… .

“Miss me?” she asks, placing a jar of Vaseline on the stand. I nod, grinning and stoned, and reach for her as she flounces on the bed. “I see you finished the ‘J.’ Lemme catch up,” she says, lights the other one, and takes a few tokes.