College Days Ch. 04

"I think we'll be more comfortable in my room," I said as I rose to a kneeling position, straddling Emily but keeping my balance - almost.

"No, I think we will be just fine right here," and she sat up, pushing me to the floor. I moved to unfasten her buttons and removed her jeans, then remove her panties. She leaned back and invitingly spread her legs. I accepted the invitation.

I separated her lips with my fingers and dove in. I drank her juices as my tongue passed under her hood to massage and suck her clitoris. My tongue pressed to push into her, leaving my nose full against her, and I tried to pass my tongue into her vagina, my nose pressed against her hood. She grabbed me by the hair to direct me. I was more or less drowning in her juices.

I could hear her moans and muffled screams I imagined she wanted to be in control of everything when it came to sex and probably everything having to do with life. I think I was beginning to understand Munro Fischer.

Later, when we reversed roles, she was pumping and pumping, swallowing me whole and teasingly licking the head. She seemed to use every detail in the Karma Sutra. Then I came. She pumped even harder now, intending to drink in as much of my seed as she could.

We stood and walked into the bedroom, where we snuggled together underneath the cotton sheets and a small wool blanket, much as we had done Friday. Emily put her head on my shoulder while her hands worked to revive me. She went down and kissed my testicles and suck and suck on my hard. Soon I was indeed ready for another round.

She came up and straddled me, easily taking me through lips and into her throat. Her body was wonderful. Those fading bikini tan lines indicated she was also aware of her great shape. Her breasts were large and her hips and ass accommodating.

Again Emily flexed her pelvic muscles, sending me bat shit crazy. Seems as if she could bend my hard at will. She did it again and again, massaging my member. But she seemed to hardly move. Her movements up and down were really minor, serving as an enhancement to the tightening and loosening of her vagina. Her simple flexing seemed to be sending her bat shit crazy, too. Needless to say she had retaken control.

"But you don't like my being in control," she said.

Then she got up from the bed, and bent over, offering her ass for my pleasure. "Now you are in control." Even when I get to be in control, she decides on the when and what and where.

So I pushed in, slowly and in stages at first until I was nearly all inside. She was in pain now, joyous, fabulous pain mixed with glorious, fabulous pleasures, simultaneous cries of anguish and orgasm. Her calls for more and her calls for less presaged another orgasm until I erupted inside her ass. We both were crying and clawing as we came together in a climax that seemed to go on forever.

We lay in bed holding each other tight, physically drained. The winter sun was coming up across the River when we fell asleep, our bodies in constant touch.

It was after noon when we got up and tried to shower. The deep finger nail marks on our backs stung when meeting the water. We kissed, hugged and washed each other, but we were both too sore for more of anything else.

I fixed breakfast - if you want to call pop-up waffles breakfast - and I made coffee, Union Coffee and Chicory. We sat at the kitchen table and talked, mostly about sex.

Tuesday morning after another wonderful night of sex with a wonderful woman, I drove her to the airport for her flight home to New York.

That afternoon I went to Napoleon House, mostly so I could think of Emily. Margot was sitting alone at a table on the patio eating a sandwich.

"I understand you and Emily hit it off over the weekend," she said approvingly. "She told me all about it Sunday. She didn't go into details, but I could fill in the gaps. Kind of rotten what Fischer did to her."

"She told me a little about but not much."

"Are you planning to see her again?" Margot asked.

"I'd like to but the gods and Delta Airlines auger against it."

Margot finished her sandwich and walked across the street and back to work.

By the end of the week I was on my way to Shreveport, a new paper, and a new job: writing about crimes and courts. I was soon saving my nickels for a round-trip flight from Shreveport to Dallas to New York.

As I was closing in on my goal, I got a letter (remember those?) from Emily. She and Munro fired their expensive lawyers and arranged to get back together. She said it was the weekend with me that did the trick. She realized she couldn't stay mad at Munro if she was doing the same thing. It was kind of like a double confession.

"Thank you, Jack."