Anita & Me: A Story

I knew it was a coward's way out, to spring the thought on her then bugger off, but I also knew she needed time to think about my words, and I knew I couldn't rationally explain them to her, not if she thought I had ulterior motives. I gave her 23 hours to the minute.

"Hi," I said, as she opened the door.

She smiled wanly, turned and walked to the only easy chair in the living room and sat down. I took the open door as an invitation to enter and I sat on the couch. As usual, she was studying her knees when I spoke. "Did you think about what I said?"

She didn't look up. "Of course I did."

"And?"

"And what? You want me to belong to you?" She looked up now, searching my face for meaning.

"Well, only as a quid pro quo. Only after I belong to you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. You make it sound like some religious cult thing. How can you belong to me? How can I belong to you? You don't make any sense."

"I make perfect sense … to me. I need to belong to someone. I need to belong absolutely to someone. I want that person to be you. But there's a problem with that. I can give myself to you, but that's just a kind of bondage, a kind of slavery, so I have to take as much as I give. So in giving me, I must have you. I must own you in return for you owning. It's simple."

She uttered her words to the floor. "Can't we just see each other for awhile, see if we like each other, see if we get along and then go from there?" She looked at me. "Like everybody else does."

"Sure we can, and we will, if that's what you want. I'm just telling you what I want."

"But why? I still don't get it."

"Can I show you?"

"Show me?"

"Yes, come over and sit down here," I tapped a place in the middle of the couch.

She thought about it for a moment then did as I requested. I waited for her to settle and then I reached over and when I touched her on the thigh she jumped. "That's why. I don't want to be the one to have to help you come to terms with yourself. You have to do that for yourself. But I'd like to make it a whole lot easier for you and easier for me, too. I need you, I know that, and I want you. I think you need me, too. You just don't want me yet." I got to my feet and walked to the door. "I'll see you at modeling."

I had already opened the door when she spoke. "You're wrong. I do want you." She said the words to her knees, then she looked up, "I just don't know how to give myself to you."

"Think about it," I said, as I left.

I arrived at modeling class right on time and took my usual place. She wasn't there but that didn't bother me much because she never seemed to arrive on time. I was taking off my jacket when the hand took me by the arm. "I think I get it. Let's go." I turned, looked at her, mumbled an apology to the class and followed her out of the room. We walked wordlessly to the parking lot, got in our cars and I followed her home.

I was at the door when she put the key in the lock and when we walked inside she took off her coat, threw it on a chair, walked to the bedroom, climbed on her bed and sat in the middle with her legs crossed and her wrists on her knees in a kind of meditating position. When I sat down on the bed she asked, "How do you want to do this?" When I hesitated — I wasn't sure I knew precisely what she meant, she elaborated. "The hand over. How do you want to do it?"

"The hand over?"

"I'm giving myself to you. How do you want me to do it?"

I think in my dreams I saw this moment as a mutual surrender. We would embrace and in the physical contact, really our first, we would be transported physically into the other's life with such totality that a future together would be absolutely assured. To me this as to be the moment of absolutely honest commitment — but not a union in the marriage sense, where two people give of themselves to create a joint life together. No. I wanted much more than that. I didn't want to create a future together. I wanted to take her entire life and I want her to take mine. By giving myself to her, I could thereby take her, take her past, her present and her future. It would be mine. Absolutely mine. The way I had it figured, my life, wrapped up entirely in myself, would instantly acquire meaning. In return, she would take me and my life. How can we do this? The only way possible. We would take each other's bodies. That's what I told her.

"Yes, I figured that much out. That's why we're here. So do you take it or do I give it? How do you want to enact the transaction?"

This wasn't working out as I had planned. I felt a little like I was being diddled, like she was mocking me. I saw our ultimate surrender in a veil of tears and passion and promises of commitment. Not pragmatically. Not like this. "You're being a little cold blooded, aren't you? A little … ah, sacrificial?"

She sat in the same position, she hadn't moved. "I'm not leaning on a lot of experience here."

Lying in my bed, I had studied her face many times at night, always seeing it from a different angle, looking for every hint of meaning. When I studied it again now, I realized it was the first time I had ever really looked at her, studied the reality and not my late-night impressions. Her's is a serious face, with wide intelligent eyes, grey and penetrating under thick eyebrows, her nose is prominent, her lips thin and she has a strong determined jaw. It is a no-nonsense face that would have been pretty were it not for the scars. Her body? She was a little taller then medium and strong, that's the only word you could use for it. It was the body of a construction worker, trim and wide with big breasts. Her body radiated strength while her psyche seemed as fragile as a girl's.

It surprised me when she pushed me down on the bed and it surprised me when she pulled my legs up and leaned over me. She kissed me lightly on the lips, "Are you absolutely sure you want me?"

"Are you absolutely sure you want me?"

"I asked you first."

"Yes, absolutely."

"Me, too." She sat up. "So you're mine?"

"Yes," I said, looking up at her, feeling a surge of passion I had never felt before.

When I struggled to sit up, she pushed me down but she didn't take her hands from me, instead she dragged her fingers lightly over my chest as if she was reading Braille. It was an odd sensation, a little spooky and her face appeared to almost pinch in concentration while she seemed to be trying to read the message from her finger tips, like you do on a Ouija board. Her fingers were on my face now and she was smiling a little, "Are you uncomfortable?"

I thought about the word for a moment, then shifted in to her, pushing my face, as it turned out, into the top of her left foot. "No," I said, and I turned on my side and curled myself around her. Her hands didn't leave me, they moved lightly up and down my arm, then onto my shoulder.

It was when her fingers dug into my hair that I started to cry. I don't know where it came from, it was as if my tears just percolated deep from within me. I didn't think I knew how to cry, I couldn't remember ever having done it before, not even as a kid, but it appeared I was pretty good at it. I shook and I sobbed and for the longest time she just continued to caress me, as if she wanted all the tears to come out. Then she lay down beside me and held me, held me in her powerful arms, squeezed me into her as if she was trying to protect me from my devils.

And I let her. I surrendered totally to her. I was lost but she made me feel safe. She made me feel unconscious of everything but the warm cocoon of her embrace.

When I stopped sobbing she let me go and sat up, and when I tried to sit up, too — I had some apologizing to do, she pushed me down and started to undo the buttons on my shirt. I watched her, wanting to wipe my eyes and, most of all, wanting to blow the snot from my nose, but I couldn't move, I was absolutely still beneath her fingers. When the buttons were undone, she went to my belt and undid that, then the top button on my pants and when she undid my zipper, she rested her hand on the erection beneath my underwear. I didn't even know I had an erection. Up ‘til now, none of this had been sexual to me, it had been something entirely different, something that would take me a long time to figure out, but now was not the time.

I helped her take off my shirt and I watched her as she took off my pants and underwear and then my socks. She did it all very slowly, almost like she was changing a child and when she finished she got on her knees, leaned over and gently kissed me on the lips, but just for a moment and then she began. It was as thorough a job as I could imagine. With little sucking kisses she moved all over my face and then she went south, to my neck, then all over my chest, my stomach, my thighs, my knees, my shins, my feet. Then she turned me over and continued, from my feet, up my calfs, to the backs of my legs and then she nuzzled and bit lightly into that warm soft place beneath my cheeks and then she kissed and bit lightly all over my ass before continuing up my back, past my neck to the top of my head. Once there, she turned me over and I watched in awe as this woman who would flinch when I touched her, took my penis her mouth, cupped my balls and sucked lightly.

It wasn't the passion that caused it. It was the realization that this was the final act of her exploration of me. It was the realization that in her mind she now possessed me, that's why I spasmed my cum into her mouth — it just shot through me in a bolt of understanding: this woman that I barely knew had possessed me, and I had surrendered, I had surrendered more totally then I could have imagined and I knew in that instant that I was hers, I had given myself away — she had taken me.

She was sitting back on her heels now, surveying me with that same serious, contemplative face but when she looked in my eyes she smiled and her relief couldn't have been more obvious. She had done it and she was proud of herself, it was written all over her face. I had offered myself to her, she had thought about it, decided and then taken me in body, mine and spirit. I don't know why, but I felt proud of her too, proud that she had performed so beautifully. But I was a little scared also. My giving had been the easy part. I wanted that with every fiber in my being. But did she want to be taken?

She let me sit up this time, as if her rite was over. Now it was my turn. My way to action has always been through words. I wanted to talk to her, I wanted to possess her through logic, I wanted my possession to be intellectual. But I couldn't think of anything to say, so I helped her onto her back and used her own words.

"Don't you ever wonder what a person's body looks like under her sweater?" She recognized her words instantly and groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Whether they have tattoos or birthmarks or scars. How much fat. Whether it's an in-ie or an out-ie. The body tells so much about a person, don't you think?"

I was on my knees, leaning over her and when I touched her on the stomach I waited for a flinch. I didn't get one, instead, she took the touch as the start of a ritual and she put her hands down on the bed by her sides and looked up at me, "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I want to possess you as totally as you possessed me."

She smiled again, "That's going to be really easy. I'm as willing to go as you were."

"Really?"

It happened in an impossible instance. She was lying on her back looking at me one moment and in the next she was curled around her arms bucking at them, moaning as if she was crying, as I had. But it was over much quicker and when she turned on her back again her hands were over her face. "Oh, God, I'm so embarrassed."

When she looked up at me there were tears in her eyes and by the time I realized what had happened, and that her tears were from laughter, she was in my arms, holding me, squeezing me like she did before, and she shook.

I let her cling to me until she stopped shaking, stopped laughing, then I helped her to lie down. "You must have needed that."

Her face was serious again. "No one has ever wanted me and I have never wanted anyone."

"Until now?"

"Until now."

I quickly lay down beside her and pulled her to me and just held her, held her for the longest time as I tried to thoroughly plan my strategy. But, I guess, I waited a little too long for suddenly she jumped off the bed, tore off her clothes and stood before me naked. "Look! Here's what you get, OK? Now take it, take every fucking nook and cranny of it and let's get on with life. I have plans for us."

I had a pretty good idea she had a fantastic body, I had imagined it every night for the past month or so, but I had no idea it would be this good. It was as strong as I thought it would be, maybe stronger. But her tits were much better, they were so soft, even a little droopy against her taunt chest and she had just the hint of a rounded belly that somehow made her look really sexy, really fertile. And her bush was neatly trimmed as if she had prepared for this moment.

It took me awhile to take it all in. It's hard to explain, but I wasn't in a hurry to touch her, I wanted to study her, but when my eyes reached hers I could see impatience, and maybe a hint of anger, so I reached out and helped her onto the bed.

My plan, hastily made up, was to do to her what she had done to me. It was so perfect, so ritualistic, but I didn't get the chance. Almost as soon as she was on her back she pulled me to her, pulled me onto her and pushed me into her. I felt the hymen, or at least I think I did, but I was through it in a second and in a few more our moans collided and I collapsed onto her, utterly spent.

That's when the words repeated themselves. "You have plans for us?" My voice sounded weak and full of curiosity. It didn't seem to be mine.

"Are you done with me?"

I rose up and looked at her, "You haven't given me a chance. No, I'm not done with you."

"Good," she said, and as she wrapped her arms around me she wiggled her pussy into me.

I broke free, slid off her and sat up, "Do you mind if I lead for a bit. I mean, what's going to happen when we dance?"

"I don't know how to dance."

"Well, nor do I but you know what I mean."

"Do I? I don't know how to do this, either, but I'm doing it." I thought the words were a little threatening until I saw her sheepish grin.

"Just because you're stronger then me …"

She pushed at me, "I am not."

I poked her, in the stomach, on the thigh, on the shoulder. "You are so. Look at you, you a slab of fucking Grade A, grain-fed sirloin. You look like you take steroids for breakfast."

"I do not."

"Do you work in your father's office or in his cement works?" I was really getting into this, I had a whole roster of one-lines queued up and ready to fire but the fun had left her eyes and she was turning way from me. I stopped her. "I'm just kidding. You know that."

"Do you want me?"

"Of course I want you, I've told you that, it's what started all of this."

"But that was before you saw me."

It's odd how such a fragile ego can lurk in such a strong body, about as odd as a women who could lectured about what lay beneath a sweater, then blush for weeks about the suggestion. I shimmied over and put her head in my lap. "That thing sticking into the back of your neck offers some evidence."

When she turned and kissed me on the stomach I took her left breast in my hand. "They're beautiful."

She pushed her face further into my stomach and I could see she was squirming a little so I brought her up to a semi-sitting position and my hand left her breast for her pussy. She moaned lightly, moving slightly on my fingers then put her lips on mine. "I love this, Jim, I just so totally love this." Then she lay down and sprawled over me with her ass in my lap. I felt like I was some kind of altar to a fertility goddess, it was really erotic.

When I took my right hand fingers from her pussy and gently replaced them with my left, she smiled at me, and when I cupped her left breast with my sticky fingers she placed her hand over mine and caressed it softly. "And to think a few days ago you jumped when I touched you."

"I didn't believe you wanted me." She smiled, "When you said you did, giving myself to you was never going to be a problem."

I brought my hand out of her pussy and rubbed on the slight swell of her belly. Not hard, but not gently either, this didn't seem the kind of body that liked nuances. I rolled her off me and when she lay face down on the bed I lay on top of her then rolled us both sideways so that my penis was between her legs and my arms were around her, one hand on a breast, the other caressing her stomach. We lay like that for awhile, then she asked, "Why did you cry?"

"I don't know," I said, kissing her back. "It just came out. Sorry."

"That's when I knew you really wanted me. I didn't before, or I wasn't sure." She hesitated for a moment, "Why haven't you looked at me?"

I rose up on my elbow to try to read her face, or the side of it at least, "Looked at you? I have."

"No, looked at me, like I looked at you."

I pushed her away so she was lying face down again, "Ohhh, you mean inspected you, like to see what I'm getting."

"Yes," her voice was weak and expectant.

I did as directed. Her body was white, totally devoid of a tan, meaning she had seriously cheated a lot of eyes. Her shoulders were wide and thick and muscular and they tapered into a narrow waist that stood rock solid on wide rounded hips. She had a beauty ass, as tight and strong as the rest of her but really feminine, too. I kissed it a few timed, just to get the feel of it. Then I looked at her legs, which were probably the most shapely part of a shapely body.

"Well?"

I turned her over, "Don't hurry me. You took your time with me, let me take some time with you."

I spent a little more time on her tits then I had before. I've already said they are beauties. "What are they called, arials?"

"These? Areolas." She lifted up a breast and thumped the part around the nipple.

"They're oval. I thought they're supposed to be round."

"Obviously, God screwed up …"

"No, no, no, I was surprised, that's all, they're really beautiful, really exotic, I love them." I said the words and I meant them but I was making a mental note when I did: no more critical comments. To quickly change the subject I put my fingers on the hair of her pussy. It was thick but trimmed as if she was accustomed to wearing a bikini, which I had no doubt she wasn't. I put my face in it, smelled it, kissed it, "this is wonderful."

"There was a lot more of it two days ago." She waited for a moment. "Should I cut it off?"

Her smell intoxicated me, I hadn't expected that. I lay down beside her, wrapped my hands around her strong legs, grabbing her cheeks and pushed my face into her pussy. I lay like that for awhile, just breathing her in, feeling her stiff hair against my face, reveling at the intimacy when I felt her hands on my back, they were massaging me, hard and it took me awhile to realizes that she was encouraging me to go further down, so I did and she opened her legs in welcome.

This was new to me. I had had sex a number of times before but never intimate sex, never sex when I cared about the body, or the person for that matter. This was an entirely different deal. The woman coaxing me into her pussy wanted me there, wanted me to know her. You think about things differently when they're yours.

She began to moan when I stuck my tongue into her, she was moaning and pushing at me when I took her clitoris in my lips and when I sucked on it, just a little, she began to buck at my face and a few moments after that she had somehow turned me on my back and was riding my face like a cowgirl, howling as if encouraging her horse. I have to admit it made me a little scared. And a little wet, too. When she came she must have lost five pounds in fluids, salty, fishy fluids and I lay there a little stunned by it all, watching the beautiful ass run to the bathroom.