Adventures of Lionel & Sondra

"Thank you," she said softly.

"My pleasure." He smiled down at her. Lather made a frilly lace over her bosom. Her nipples peeked out.

"Now put your hands on my shoulders…"

He did so and it was his turn to close his eyes in pleasure. She soaped up her hands and stroked his cock, hand over hand in a foamy massage. She soaped her own belly and rubbed up against him. She cuddled his balls from time to time and skidded the tip of one finger up his ass. He moaned. The sound was music to her ears.

She fisted him a little faster. Through the white suds, the head of his cock was an angry red, almost purple. Lionel found two words: "Faster, Sondra…" She herself was breathless as she obeyed, jerking him with short, hard strokes. As his ivory fountain erupted, she took her hand away and stepped in close to hug him. Their hot, slippery bellies closed together around his cock in a messy mélange of suds and cum. "Oh,….oh…" he moaned. His knees threatened to buckle.

"Baby," she murmured into his chest. She held him as much in sweet affection as she did in sexual pleasure. Her emotional peak mirrored his physical one. Lionel breathed heavily, hanging onto his pleasure goddess. He realized his grip was too tight on her biceps, yet she had not complained.

Sondra pulled back a little. "Did you like that?"

"I'm not really sure, we may have to test this again."

chapter two and a half -- camping

Sondra was dreaming. She was dreaming of a time, not so long ago, when she felt like Lionel had many girlfriends, and she wasn't so sure that she was special to him, even though he had told her she was. She just wasn't the type of girl to assume anything.

As is common with dreams, this dream wove together some elements of reality, and some of fantasy. It was a long weekend, just before the heat of summer descended with a vengeance on their town. He invited her to go camping.

At first, mired in uncertainty, she tried to maneuver out of it. "I haven't been feeling so hot lately," she told him. She thought maybe he would just ask someone else.

But he surprised her. He told her tempting stories of all the activities they might enjoy. Not only did he entice her to go with him, he talked a lot about the non-sexual attractions of the trip. Sondra was intrigued. Here was a fellow who wanted her company.

She agreed to join him.

The first day they went canoeing. "Do you know how to paddle?" he asked.

"I think so. You row on one side and I row on the other, right?"

Yep, she had it right, and over the blue-green lake they sailed. He insisted that she wear sunblock and she was very glad of it later, for not only did the sun pour its gold all over them, but the glare reflected off of the lake as well. She would have cooked like a lobster, maybe even gotten sick, and that would have spoiled everything.

The next day they rose early to visit the hiking trails. They took an easy one first, to stretch their leg muscles. Sondra was used to swimming every day, so her stamina was good, but the way the muscles were used was different. A warm-up was important.

Through the tender wood they strolled, under the dark green canopy. Lionel took point, holding branches out of the way, and extending his hand where the footing was questionable. They were both careful to avoid smashing the wildflowers. Neither did they make too much noise, for part of the point was to not frighten away the wildlife.

They rounded a bend. In front of them was a rare spot where a pillar of sunlight shone down through the roof of the forest. It highlighted a big flat rock, like a spotlight. Sunning itself on the rock was a thick snake. They eyed the snake with interest, trying to determine what kind it might be. They spoke very, very quietly so as not to disturb it. Sondra was not afraid until it began to uncoil its sinuous body, and then they tiptoed on.

The remaining sights were less tense. There were wild strawberries, violets, trillium and bleeding heart. They picked out the slender leaves of the black walnut tree, even though it was too early for walnuts to be found. They crossed a rickety bridge over a stream. It was little more than a series of planks, strung together with a few ropes. But the stream was not deep. At worst, had they fallen in, they would have gone home with wet and muddy clothes. The water sang its flute-song to them.

When they were hungry, they found an overhang, and pulled off their backpacks. It was a quiet lunch. They speculated about how the river had once cut through this place. Through it all, rippling through their emotions like an undertow, was awe at the beauty. Someone or something had made this place, and it wasn't mankind. This very fact was louder than its gentle sounds: the wind flying through the trees, the chittering of birds and insects.

Lionel tugged at Sondra's sleeve. Silently he pointed. Not fifteen feet away stood a doe and her fawn. The doe regarded them as it chewed on long green stems. She stared at the humans for a moment, then took her little one back whence they came. Sondra's eyes glowed thanks to Lionel. Something moved in his eyes, too -- he was glad he had asked her along.

The couple's time together went by quickly. It was as if being in the wood brought out another kind of communication, something deeper than everyday words could say. Sondra was sorry to see the back of it.

That night after dinner, before the sun went down, Lionel asked Sondra, "What are you doing?"

Her eyebrows flew up. "Zipping together two sleeping bags." He expression said, Is this a trick question?

Lionel laughed. He wondered if he would ever get used to her quirky sense of humour. Nope, probably not.

After the sun went down they lay looking up at the stars. Out here, away from the city, the sky was crystalline clear. The silver-white dots glittered majestically in the deep indigo field.

He ran his hands over her body, not in a sexual way, but in a loving way. Sondra warmed happily to his touch. They picked out the constellations -- he knew more of them than she -- and one or two planets. He wasn't condescending as he shared his knowledge. She liked that about him.

After a while her eyes began to flutter…it had been a big day. As Lionel pointed out Venus, her mind began to drift into nonsense. She pictured the two of them, lying on the big dirt ball called Earth, and the ball was orbiting around the sun, and the solar system was revolving around galactic central point … in a very real sense, the universe itself was rocking them in its cradle. They were safe. They were where they should be. She lost consciousness in her lover's arms.

In the middle of the night, his hands caressing her breasts woke her up. "Mmmmm," she said sleepily. Even though it was pitch black, she could imagine the sight of his mouth. His lips were beautiful as a beautiful dream. She pressed her full soft lips to his.

Her arms wrapped around him in the quiet noise of their t-shirts gliding and he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers. He slid his tongue past her lips. She arched her back at the jolt of electricity that raced to the tips of her breasts.

Suddenly her heartbeat throbbed between her legs in a wet silken fire and his hands, roaming over her body, caused her to moan against his lips. He kissed her neck, where she was very sensitive, hearing her draw in a sharp breath. He nipped at her throat and tasted the salt of her skin.

Her breasts fairly begged for his hands, longing for his caress, waiting for his fingertips to feel every round inch. He held the weights in his hands, then buried his face in her ample bosom. Her cries of joy encouraged him.

"Suck my nipples…"

Lionel had no idea how powerful was her ache, and when he met this need, the white-hot fire coursed through her. She wondered if he had any idea what he did to her.

He drew her hips a little closer, reached inside her panties and found the creamy wet heat that he aroused in her. Sondra thought she could not resist him tonight if he were the devil himself. She was warm and alive in his arms. She reached to caress his hardness and a thrill of joy rocketed through her to find that she aroused him, also.

"Oh, god, Lionel, I can't stand it any more…"

He guided the head of his hot hard cock into her aching thirsty pussy, stabbed his steel into her pink petals. They began moving as one. He rolled their bodies together so that she landed on top of him.

She felt his hips flex beneath her. Her vaginal muscles tensed in waves of pleasure as she looked into his eyes. She could see his adoration.

He played with her abundant tits, feeling her get wetter. As she pitched and rolled above him, she whispered sweet words of passion, things she couldn't say in the daylight, things he had already guessed, and she knew that he knew.

She held both of his hands, leaning forward and meeting his thrusts to grind his granite against her clit. As he brought her to orgasm, she lost all coherent thought. He moved her in so many ways, he penetrated her more deeply than any man ever had, and she wanted it all: his scent, his sound, his touch, his taste, filling her and sweeping her with him to his own country…

She felt his cock swelling inside her. His balls tightened. "Cum inside me!" she urged, and he answered back, "I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum inside you," and his blast shook her, his explosion fired deep inside.

"Oh god. Oh god. I am yours…"

Body and soul, she confessed. She woke up.

chapter three -- Lionel's birthday

Summer sighed away into September, and Sondra pondered how best to celebrate Lionel's approaching birthday. Of course she intended to jump his bones, but she wanted the bone-jumping to be extra special, the kind of bone-jumping that would give a man happy memories on his deathbed, so that even as he slid toward the white-gold light, he would still be thinking, "Oh, god, Sondra, that was great," even as he remembered that perhaps under the circumstances he ought to consider using a capital G. Just in case.

She got the idea from the radio as she was driving home from work.

The following Tuesday, she barely touched her dinner. Lionel noticed she kept looking at the clock. "What's up? Got somewhere to go?"

"Yeah, well." She smiled mysteriously. Here we go again, thought Lionel. Even though he knew it was pointless to ask, he asked anyway: "What are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing. Listen, if you leave the dishes, I'll clean up later, OK?" She gave him a big smile, probably her best attempt at innocence, but in fact she came across like the cat that had defeated the clasp on the cage of white mice. Ha! said the look. I got it!

Quick as a wink, she bussed him on the cheek and scurried out the door. Lionel smiled and rolled his eyes. Whatever it was, he would probably benefit. He turned on the radio and was in time to catch the bottom of the second inning. The Cubs were up 1-0. This was pleasant enough, but by no means an indicator of impending success. They were, after all, the Cubs.

Just because he liked her so much, he scraped the dishes and piled them into the dishwasher. Then he settled down to read smutty stories, write smutty stories, think up ideas for more smutty stories, and help fellow authors edit their smutty stories. He could not help but think of Sondra, especially during certain lurid descriptions that reminisced her favorite toys and positions.

She got home about ninety minutes later. She was fragrant and her cheeks were pink. "You're glowing," he observed. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah." Her smile was very, very big. In fact she was beaming, as if she had just discovered something wonderful. She kissed him hello and strode down the hall. "Just gotta wash my feet."

A little question mark formed over Lionel's head. He didn't bother to ask.

The following Tuesdays were pretty much the same, excepting the Cubs whose performance was miserable, miserabler, miserablest, then all of a sudden they would come out of nowhere and whip the Sox, probably due to inbred genetic rivalry. Sondra routinely dashed out of the house by 6:45 and came home, just as predictably, at about 8:15. This went on for five weeks.

One night as they were making love, Lionel noticed a change in Sondra's movements. There was something different about the way she rotated her ass. It was almost as if she were listening to music, and the music was transmitting through her muscles…it was very nice … He rolled with her, moving in counterpoint to her rhythm. Something about his old days of playing the guitar echoed faintly at the back of his mind. "Unh! … Unh! … Unh! … UNH!"

"Where did you learn to do that," he panted.

Sondra was breathing heavily beside him. "Sex class," she replied with a straight face.

"What!?"

She giggled. "I'm just teasing you, you silly goose." She caressed his jaw and kissed him. But she hid behind the banter of their word-play, and never did answer his question.

* * *

Finally the big day came. Lionel awoke to find flowers on the nightstand, with a mushy card propped up against the vase. He smiled as he read it.

The smell of a tasty breakfast wafted under his nose. He felt so well taken care of. With a sigh of happiness, he pulled on a robe and padded out to the dining room. He had a sense of living a dream.

"Happy birthday!" Sondra gave him a big tight hug and invited him to sit down. She brought him coffee in his favorite mug and dished up a platter of eggs, hash browns and ham. There was even freshly squeezed orange juice. His only disappointment was that she had clothes on under the gauzy apron.

Lionel blinked at his plate. "Thank you. This is very nice."

His girlfriend grinned back. "I'm glad you like it. I'm just sorry you have to work today," her glance turned rueful.

He couldn't resist playing with her a little bit. "So what'd ya get me for my birthday?"

"I'm not gonna tell ya. You have to wait until tonight to find out." Looking smug, Sondra fixed her own breakfast and joined him at the table.

They chatted about ordinary things, then; the church, the weather; Lou Piniella getting kicked out of last night's game. Soon the phone began to ring and Lionel donned his hat. It was time for another day full of explaining things that were simple to him, but utterly mystifying to most of the rest of the population.

Sondra waved him off, looking guiltier than ever, smiling the big goober grin that meant she had something up her sleeve, the kind of grin that would probably have gotten her kicked out of 26 casinos, all her womanly charms notwithstanding. Lionel nodded and waved as he drove away. He would certainly have to make an effort to keep his mind on his work, and if he even remotely considered the vaguest notion of what she was up to, he'd probably have to sit in the truck and concentrate intently on Michael Barrett's on-base percentage before he could go talk to anybody. Such was the effect she had on him, and with good reason. He was, on the whole, a fortunate man.

The day seemed to take forfuckingever. Lionel fixed things with a good grace, pointing out to the ladies and gentlemen the virtue of checking batteries, knowing even still how they would forget this simple axiom of common sense, and he would soon again be called upon to rescue them from their own foibles. Oh, well. It paid the mortgage.

Dinner time finally rolled around. Sondra cooked again. She fixed up a simple little appetizer, dried apricot halves stuffed with blue cheese crumbles. Lionel was surprised at how tasty the little buggers were and gobbled down half a dozen before he remembered he liked fig newtons better. Oh, wait.

He hung around in the kitchen, watching her chop scallions in between checking the steaks. "Can I do anything?"

"I think you can do lots of things, but for now if you want to, you can get that pinot grigio out of the fridge."

Lionel fetched out the white wine, even as he objected. "This doesn't go with steak."

"Wanna bet?" She had a naughty look in her eye.

Lionel poured their drinks. He filled each stem to the widest point of the bubble and gave one glass to his woman. Her counter clockwise movement caused the wine to swim a few liquid laps, and she took a mouthful of the cold white.

Then she kissed him and let the cool wine slip from her mouth into his. Her tongue rode in on the wave, imitated a swimmer's flip turn and slid out, barely giving him time to enjoy the tease. The sensuous kiss traveled through his body.

The look on his face was her reward. She grabbed his ass and whispered, "Beef! It's what's for dinner."

Lionel embraced her. He was tempted to drag her off to the bedroom and let the steaks burn, or maybe even lay her on the dining room table. But he knew she had something planned. He contented himself with roaming his hands over her body, copping a feel here, stealing a grope there. He whispered back, "Beef! It does a body good."

She squeaked at the grope and giggled at the quip, and finished fixing dinner. The steak was great, dark hot pink on the inside and charred around the edges. They dug in, mindful of how lucky they were, not only because they could afford to eat well, but also because they had each other. Abiding friendship with a sexy playmate -- who could ask for more?

As it happened, however, Lionel could ask for something more, and that something was the resolution to his burning curiosity. He had sensed the tension in her for weeks. "So," he tried to sound casual, "you never asked me what I wanted for my birthday."

"That's right, I didn't."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Wellllllll…" Sondra stroked her chin, pretending to consider. "No. But you can have these."

She stood up from the table and opened a kitchen cabinet. Carefully she lifted out a little stack of presents. There was a big one, a small one, and a tiny little box on top.

She put the gifts on the dining room table and told him to wait a minute while she cleared the dishes. That done, she sat back down and selected the middle-sized box.

The wrapping paper had bats, gloves and balls on it. Lionel could tell by the feel of it that it was a paperback book. He tore it open. It was a copy of The Southpaw by Mark Harris.

"Still trying to get me to read this, huh?" He chuckled.

"I'm convinced you'll love it. It's a story about a pitcher who is also a writer." She looked really happy.

"Thank you, I'm sure I will enjoy it." He leaned to kiss her softly, and smiled into her eyes.

"Okay, now the big one."

This one was covered in a satiny blue paper. Lionel pulled the silver ribbon and the bow on top came untied. He lifted off the lid.

At first he wasn't sure what he was looking at. Whatever it was, it was made of denim -- many different hues of denim. He pulled the cloth from the package.

It was a blanket of some kind, a single layer sewn in a pattern of interlocking circles. Each circle was about the size of a CD. On the back it looked like a series of squares that was held together with circular stitching.

A shard of insight lanced into his mind. "This is where all my old blue jeans went."

Sondra lifted her chin. A trace of pride showed on her face.

"You made this …" Lionel stood up and unfolded the coverlet all the way. It was big enough to cover their bed. It would be the perfect light weight, for their climate, in the upcoming winter months. "You made this for me." He was moved. "Thank you."

Sondra nodded. "You're welcome," she whispered. There were nearly tears in her voice.

Lionel drew her close and wrapped both of them in her gift. He kissed her forehead and hugged her with all the warmth he could muster. "I'll treasure it always."