Canon Ch. 03

"Let me feel like your hero for a minute," he said. "I don't get the chance that often."

She nuzzled his chest adoringly. "You are my hero, Geoffie," she said. "I love you."

He kissed her, just in front of her ear, and carried her to the living room. There he sat down on the sofa with her still in his arms. He released her, and she found herself lying across his lap, her face inches from his and her arms still around his neck.

Without a word, their lips met and opened. Geoff touched the CD remote, and Amy smiled into his mouth as the Canon began to play.

They held and kissed each other through the afternoon, speaking little but knowing and feeling much. They knew that evening would be special, and they touched and kissed and gazed into each other's eyes quietly, warmly, but without the blazing passion they knew would sweep over them later. Deeply intimate, but easy and comfortable.

"I can't wait, Geoffie," Amy breathed after one long, soul-stirring kiss. "You know it's my first time..." She shivered in his strong arms.

He held her close, so close. So precious, so delicate... He knew how careful and gentle he would have to be - and longed to be. "Don't be afraid, Punkin," he whispered. "I-"

"I'm not," she said quickly. "I'm not, Geoffie. I just don't know what to do."

He smiled down at her. This time, both her eyes seemed to speak of innocence. "You'll know," he said, in a deep, comforting rumble like approaching thunder.

She hugged him and trembled, and he rocked her. They both felt the storm coming, and were eager to meet it.

---

Dinner was simple and light; grilled cheese sandwiches and cream of tomato soup. They spoke very little, but the looks that passed between them were hotter than the soup. Geoff's old eyes raked her face and body like laser beams, and Amy's flashed passion and trembling shyness and aching love by turns - and sometimes all at once.

"Give me a few minutes," he said as he rose from the table. He kissed her head, and she squeezed his hand for a moment - then impulsively kissed it, holding it in both her own.

"What do you want me to wear?" she asked timidly.

He grinned and winked. "Surprise me," he said.

She let go of his hand and watched him leave, then cleaned up the table. Her hands shook a little as she placed their plates and bowls and spoons in the dishwasher.

In spite of what she had said, she was afraid.

A little. She started down the hall to her bedroom to change.

The door of their guest room - the room they shared - was closed; she heard Geoff moving around inside, and wondered what he had in store for her.

Well, besides that, she thought with a shiver of anticipation...

---

A few minutes later, she heard his soft knock. She stood. "Come in," she said, trembling.

When Geoff opened the door, he looked at her and felt the lump in his throat expand. Amy had pinned her long hair up in that sweet, old-fashioned way that he loved, and was wearing a touch of lipstick - and her glasses.

She had chosen a nightgown to break his heart; ankle-length, in a pale blue that matched her right eye, the innocent one - but the gown was hardly innocent. It was held up by two nylon spaghetti straps at her shoulders and rode low on her sweet, perky breasts, barely above her hard nipples - and it was as transparent as glass. Amy's glorious body was on display as she stood before him, barefoot and shy. She wore no panties.

"My God," he breathed. "You look like a goddess, Punkin. You're - beautiful." She blushed, predictably, looking down at the carpet, and he - equally predictably - took two steps and picked her up in his arms again. "I'm the luckiest man in the world," he murmured as he carried her down the hall to their bedroom.

She clung to him, secure in his strong arms. "You're the only man in the world, Geoff," she said softly. He lifted her higher and squeezed her to him, then carried her into the room.

"Ooo," she breathed, delighted. The room was filled with golden light, from a dozen or more scented candles around the room. She saw the portable stereo from the weight room on the bedside table, and a couple of towels folded over a chair; and then she saw the sheets, gleaming softly in the candlelight, as black as midnight. "Ooo," she said again, "Satin sheets!"

"Silk," he said, and set her down on the floor, not the bed. She wondered - till he sat down in the room's only chair and touched the "play" button on the boombox.

"Dance for me," he commanded. "You've been promising. I want to see it."

A sensual Middle Eastern beat began to thrum from the speakers. The tabla and tamboura provided a ringing, complex and sexual rhythm, and a violin and flute began to weave sinuous melodies around each other.

Amy's eyes grew wide and bright behind her lenses, and she looked at him with pleasure. "Perfect," she whispered. Her curvy bare hips were already moving to the hypnotic Arabian sound beneath the erotic veil of her sheer gown.

She danced for him in the candlelight, and he watched. Her disconcerting eyes were on him, strange and magnified, and a knowing, teasing smile was on her lips; she knew how good she was at this, and she showed him.

Geoff had never seen a woman move like Amy did. Her body writhed and rippled like the candles' flames, like waves on the ocean, like a serpent in the grass. Her sweet cones jiggled, their hard pink tips peaking the transparent gown. Her pale belly quivered and rolled, her sweet round bottom quaked, her lovely legs moved and posed and flexed and opened, graceful and lewd at once. Her perfect arms and expressive hands wove a mystic spell as she waved and twined them in the air, and her eyes - both of them smoking-hot with passion and promise - bored into his as he stared at her.

Geoff's hands twitched. He ached to touch her, and his cock was vibrating-hard in his boxers. As she crouched and pumped her soft, pale pussy at him suggestively, her arms raised and her hands behind her head, he growled, "Stop."

He rose from the chair, his boxers tented, The tiny, almost-naked girl took a step back and cowered, just a bit, as he approached her in the golden light.

He did not pick her up. He slipped the strings from her shoulders and let the gown fall into a blue puddle at her feet.

He resumed his seat. "More," he said, his old eyes burning. "Leave your glasses on."

Amy stepped out of the gown and began to dance mother-naked.

The tiny teen blushed furiously and worked even harder to inflame the old man - turning around and bending, bare feet spread wide, to display her pumping pussy from behind; shimmying her shoulders to make her firm young breasts quiver and shake; crouching to hump her bald crotch up at him obscenely, her bare belly working with her pale thighs spread wide.

She squatted low, leaned back against the wall, and peeled her hairless pussy lips apart to show him her wet, pink, squeezing hole - and he rumbled, "Stop. Get in the bed."

He watched, enjoying the sight of her bare white legs and ass as she climbed onto the mattress with difficulty; it was almost chest-high for her. Her pale body seemed to glow with its own light against the black sheets, and she marveled at their silken smoothness.

Geoff rose from his chair at last. She drew back on the bed, a little fearful, and watched him as he changed the CD. He finally turned toward her - and his craggy old face softened.

"Do you have the faintest idea of how beautiful and sexy you are?" he asked, his deep voice soft, a caress of sound. "You take my breath away, Amy."

She trembled, her cheeks pink and her pussy gushing-wet after her dance. "You wanted me to be embarrassed, didn't you?" she whispered.

He dropped his boxers and slid into the bed beside her, his cock sticking out stiff and red. "Were you?" he asked. He lay back so his erection was prominently displayed.

"Yessss...." She stared at it, fascinated. In just a few minutes...

He removed her glasses at last and placed them on the table beside the bed; then he took her in his arms. She was tense, quivering with heat and nervousness. "Good," he said. "I want you to feel naked and helpless and exposed to me." His voice, as deep and elemental as if it came from deep in the earth, reverberated through her body. She felt frightened and vulnerable and warm and safe and loved, all at once.

"You're mine, Amy. My woman, my slave girl, my warm wet pussy, like you said - and I want you to know that and remember it."

"Every minute of my life," she whispered. "I'm yours, Geoff." She kissed his chest. "Forever. You remember that, too."

For answer, he tilted her head up, put his mouth on hers, and pulled her toward him.

---

There was no hurry. He stroked and caressed her slowly, inflaming her as she had inflamed him. Men are visual; women are tactile. Geoff knew this. She shivered and gasped as he touched her - her back, her belly, her arms and legs and throat, her breasts, her sweet bare pussy. She writhed and whimpered in his arms, lost in his gentle, intimate, and knowing touch.

He mouthed her throat, tonguing her tender white skin as if she were made of sugar frosting. He stroked her sides and hips and thighs and squeezed her springy bottom and sucked her earlobes and traced her jawline with his tongue. He squeezed and fondled her breasts and kissed and sucked her nipples and massaged her smooth crotch and teased her sweet, wet slit till she was shuddering with need.

He kissed and touched her for almost an hour in the candlelight - and in silence, letting his hands and mouth and tongue speak for him.

And she heard him. They had played before, and given each other pleasure - but nothing like this. She was lost in his love and surrounded and filled by it, feeling nothing but silken sheets and his gentle, skilled and knowing hands and mouth on her bare and sensitive skin.

He slowly worked his way down her sweet, pale body, kissing her throat, her chest, her sweet swollen nipples, her ribs, her soft bare belly, and finally kissing and nuzzling her smooth, bare mound with his lined and smooth-shaven cheek. He kissed her tender slit, and she spread her bare thighs wide; he licked her there, inhaling her animal fragrance and savoring her tart flavor - and her trembling anticipation.

He opened her sensitive young hole and licked her, luxuriously, telling her of his love with his tongue on her most intimate secrets, sucking at her soul and digging into her heart.

But not long enough to let her cum. Amy was whining for release, aching for him, begging him with her body - beautiful legs wide, arms tugging at him, hands groping for him blindly.

He slid back up her body, and her hand found his steel-hard, dripping cock. She gasped and squeezed it, and pulled it urgently toward her.

Geoff rolled over and lifted her bare legs with his arms, hooking her knees over his elbows. She was wide open for him, her gleaming, swollen, and eager pussy was turned up at the perfect angle.

He moved up a trifle, and she felt his hot, hard cock pressing against her warm, wet lips. Amy hissed and rolled her hips upward, rubbing her pussy against him hungrily. "Please..." she breathed, her hands pulling at his hips, his shoulders.

"Shhhh," he whispered, rocking his own hips against her. His dick slid up and down, wetly, slick against her syrupy hole. He held her close, pressing himself against her, and her mouth opened to his.

They embraced and kissed for long minutes, their arms locked around each other and his erection pressed against her pussy. He finally felt her relax, though she was still quivering with need for him - and he knew it was time.

He lifted himself from her chest, and she looked up at him. He reached out to the bedside table and pressed a button - and as their beloved Canon began to play, he replaced her glasses.

"Guide me in," he whispered.

As the basses began to lay the slow, eight-note foundation of the piece, she took his swollen, leaking organ in her hand and guided him to her tender, flaring lips - and his swelling cock slowly entered her wet, sweet pussy, opening her up for the very first time.

Amy closed her eyes in ecstasy, and he whispered, "No. Look at me. I want to see your eyes."

From her pillow, Amy looked up to see his face, clearly - and she realized that that was why he had put her glasses back on. As the cellos and violas took up the theme in low harmonies, she felt him sliding deeper and deeper inside her - and she saw the pleasure that she herself felt, reflected in his rugged old face; his mouth was open, his eyes slitted, and something that looked like pain, but wasn't, distorted his features.

She rolled herself farther upward, opening herself to him, knowing that her own face looked the same. As she felt his bare, stiff dick opening her tender, untouched pussy tube, she whimpered and worked her ass to draw him in deeper.

Her face was so lovely, so hot and prettily twisted with aching need and fulfillment... Geoff held back the urge to thrust his cock brutally all the way into Amy's velvety, fever-hot, and oh-so-snug vagina as she worked her hips up at him.

The violins began to weave the counterpoint, and just as their sweet strains filled the air around them, their minds and souls were filled with the feel of her delicate membranes opening around his sliding, sensitive dickhead. He gazed into her amazing eyes as he penetrated her pussy - and her heart.

She was so beautiful, so young, so tender - both her eyes sang to him of her ecstasy, her devotion, and her growing love, as the music grew and sang to them both.

His old, soft eyes spoke to her as well - and of the same precious things. She knew what love was, now. He was filling her, and she adored it, and him.

"Fuck me, Geoff," she said, her voice tiny, high and sweet, like a fearful but trusting child's.

There are miracles, he thought, his heart bursting as he moved inside her, lovingly and deep. There are. And this is one.

He began to slide his hard old cock in and out of her, smoothly, slowly - and Amy learned why they called it "making love."

The music grew more complex and beautiful, too intricate and lovely to follow all at once - and so did the sensations they felt and shared. Geoff was sliding in and out of Amy now, slow and gentle still, but soul-deep and intense; she rolled her hips up at him subtly, in rhythm with his thrusts, and watched his eyes in the candlelight as he felt her respond to him. They wandered over her face, incredulously.

He can't believe he's fucking me, she realized - and she whispered to him softly, making him believe: "You're fucking me, Geoffie - you're fucking me, and I love it, I love it, I love it so much, and I love you... I love you... Oh, I love you..."

She pulled her knees back and pumped her pussy on his sliding cock. "You're fucking your Amy, Uncle Geoff... You're fucking me so gooood...."

Geoff saw her eyes fill, her tears magnified by her lenses - and he felt his own falling to her lovely breasts. "I love you, Amy... Punkin... You're my life... God, I love you..."

Their words, as sweet as they were, were not enough. None would ever be.

The music rose and swirled around them, and he lay on her and took her in his arms and held her close as he began to pump her harder. She humped back with an urgency of her own, hugging him to her bare body, kissing his ear, gasping and tugging at him to pull him closer.

Faster, deeper, more passionately still, her legs wrapped around his flexing, thrusting ass, his arms around her shoulders and her waist, they fucked with everything they had, everything they were; clinging to each other with a deep and consuming need that he had never known and that she had never dreamed of.

They struggled to grow closer, and somehow did; they moved together, more and more in tune and rhythm, lost in the music and their hunger for each other. He kissed her neck and shoulders; she held his balls in her soft hand, and their bodies slapped together wetly as they fucked harder, more intensely, his cock plunging and pushing, her pussy grasping and milking him, both of them working to pull each other to the summit as the music surrounded them in the golden light. They fucked intensely, desperately, thrusting and grasping and pumping and squeezing, their connection so slick and hot and vivid and strong, they were lost in it and in each other.

As their passion rose higher, the violins soared around them and drew them higher still; no deep humming now, but endless, circling flight toward the Sun. As the music crescendoed, so did their intense and fiery pleasure - and as it rose toward its dramatic climax, they joined with it and with each other in their own.

They came together, shuddering and clinging as the orchestra swirled around them; he thrust his cock inside her deep and held it there, his very soul shooting out inside his sweet Amy's precious, perfect body. Her hot, wet, lovingly squeezing pussy tube gripped and rippled on him and drew it from him hungrily, gratefully, sucking on his gushing manhood like a second mouth and working to mix his soul with hers. She shook and shuddered and hugged him tightly with her sweet, smooth arms and legs, creaming helplessly all over his driving, spurting cock, shattered and shaking with incandescent bursts of pure ecstasy at the sudden slickness of her pussy as her strong and noble Geoff flooded it with his jetting, geysering cum. She worked to make him give her more, and more, and he did, and she came in waves beneath him as her sweet young hole was filled to dripping overflow by his thick and spurting liquid seed.

It would not end. He held her tightly and blasted her with more and more of his boiling sperm, torn out of him by the roots, by her beauty and her youth and her passion. She felt it running down between her asscheeks and shuddered in delight. She was his now, completely, and he knew that too; and they were both so grateful, no words could ever tell of it.

They wept and came and felt that it would never, ever end, and knew that there was nothing greater in this life or the next than what they held in that moment - each other's hearts and souls.

They kept moving together, slowing gradually, gently, after the music stopped; clinging to each other, reluctant to come down from the burning heights to which they had taken each other.

Soon they lay still in each other's arms, warm, united, unsure where one began and the other ended, and not caring.

They were one. One being, one love, one heart. Complete, at last. They were one.

---

After:

They stood together in the shower, soaping each other in the warm spray, touching, stroking and embracing and enjoying the feel of the slippery suds between their naked bodies. They spoke not at all, making quiet sounds of affection and contentment, but without words:

"Mmmm..."

"Oh..."

An intake of breath, a sigh, a hiss of pleasure. They touched and kissed and stroked each other in near-silence.

They rinsed each other and then embraced; the scarred old man and the flawless young girl, clinging to each other beneath the falling water as if in a storm.

Their storm had passed, and left a quiet certainty in its wake. They dried each other and walked back to the living room, warm and damp and still naked. They would return to their bed when it was cool, and dry.

Amy lay across Geoff's lap - her favorite and most comfortable place to be, warm and safe in his arms - and they kissed quietly and snuggled, still without speaking. There was no need; there were no words.

It was long before they spoke.

"Thank you, Geoff," she whispered.

He looked down at her, and she looked up at him. She was wearing her glasses, though she wore nothing else; she knew they were dear to him.