Fire in the Belly

***

Much later, Matthew's sleep was interrupted by a hand shaking his arm. A quiet yet desperate voice was calling his name ... his first name.

"Ji... uh ... Lily?" he said, sleepily. "What's wrong? What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, love," she said, her voice full of weeping. "It's just that ... I need you. I need you terribly. Can we? ... Can we?"

It took a moment for her meaning to become clear to Matthew. When it did, and he understood how deeply she was suffering, his worry returned.

"Oh ... uh ... yes ... of course ... of course."

Matthew rubbed his eyes, rose to hands and knees, then eased himself into position atop her in the firelight.

Lily lifted her knees high and wide to give him access to her sex.

Worry and drowsiness delayed Matthew's arousal. He thought for a moment, then used his hand to draw the head of his penis up and down along her vulva. Immediately, her natural lubricant coated both his penis and his hand, showing how ready she was for penetration. She must have been actually dripping with arousal. Despite his concern, Matthew found this incredibly exciting, and he hardened quickly, dipping deeper into her as he did so.

Soon, he was fully erect and ready to take her. He plunged in steadily, as far as he could go without hurting her. She gave a sobbing sigh as he did so.

Responding to her desperate need, Matthew deliberately adopted a rapid pace, and Lily responded passionately. She clung to him like a woman drowning. Her whole body writhed beneath him, and she cried out his name continuously.

Her orgasm arrived only seconds after he entered her, and she sobbed vehemently as she came.

When he thought she had calmed a little, Matthew eased his pace, wondering whether he should withdraw, but she immediately clasped her legs behind his back to keep him inside her and cried out, "More! More!"

Matthew obliged, trying to keep his attention away from his own arousal. Almost as soon as he resumed pumping her, she orgasmed again. This time, Matthew did not think of stopping, but put as much energy as he could into alleviating her intense craving. And so did she, coming loudly so many times in quick succession that her voice started to become hoarse.

At last, Matthew could not hold back his own orgasm any longer. Hoping to satisfy her completely, he began fucking her as hard and fast as he felt he safely could, and when he sprayed into her, she came as well, uttering one last vibrant cry of pleasure and relief as she did so. The ecstatic call continued for so long that Matthew marvelled that her lungs could sustain the effort. At last, sated, she relaxed back on the sleeping pad, murmuring her gratitude over and over.

"Thank you, love. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you ..."

Gradually, her voice became softer and softer, until at last she lay still and silent beneath him, and Matthew realised that she had already fallen back into sleep. Her crisis seemed to be over ... for now.

But, for how long? he wondered.

He checked the time. It was close to three o'clock, perhaps four hours since their last intimate contact, during the kissing game, but much longer since they had actually had sex.

Matthew withdrew from her and settled back onto his side of the bedding. Out of concern, he held her hand a long time, thinking. Was this to be the pattern of their relationship? How often would she need to make love in order to keep her sanity?

He worried himself to sleep thinking about it.

***

The cabin was brightly illuminated when Matthew awoke again. He opened his eyes to the sight of a sunlit Jill, lying gloriously naked on her back, gazing through the skylight with a dreamy, contented smile on her face. Somehow, he knew it was not Lily. He could not quite put his finger on it, but the distinction was clear. Perhaps it was a hint of irony in her demeanour.

For a while, he did not move, but simply watched her, half-convinced that he was still asleep, that everything that had happened since her arrival was a wild fantasy.

Jill became aware of his gaze and turned her head to look at him.

"Morning, Mister Quinn," she said, and gave him a smile fit to rival the sunshine.

Matthew beamed delightedly in response.

"Morning, Miss Jill," he said. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thanks."

"Not ... uh ... desperate?"

"No. Why?"

"Uh ... in the night ... you ... I mean, Lily ... you don't remember?"

"Oh, that. Sure, I remember. Yeah ... it got pretty torrid there for a while. All good now, though."

"I thought you might be starting to ... uh ... suffer again by now," he said.

"No ... no, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

Matthew felt both relieved and puzzled to hear this.

"You looked so peaceful lying there," he said, after a moment's silence. "What were you thinking about?"

She smiled.

"Nothing much," she said. "Just imagining myself with an enormous fucking belly, full of your baby."

Whuh ... nothing much?! Matthew thought.

"You ... want to have a child?" he said, trying to hide his consternation.

"Yes, please," she responded offhandedly, without hesitation. "Do you mind?"

"That's ... uh ... moving a little more quickly than I had anticipated," he said.

She looked at him.

"Of course," she said sympathetically. "Poor boy. I forgot how new you are to all of this. Don't worry, Mister Quinn. Your needs will be taken into account, every step of the way."

"Thank you," he said, a little ironically, not entirely sure her answer had addressed the heart of the matter.

Pregnancy, Matthew thought. Leading to parenthood. For a moment, he thought he knew how a fish must feel, suddenly ripped from its natural habitat by the talons of an eagle.

Then he focussed again on the woman beside him, who had declared profound love for him in both her aspects, and a deep contentment welled in his heart, washing away his trouble and doubt.

What would it be like, he wondered, to see her with a newborn baby in her arms? How would she look?

As happy and fulfilled as a woman could be, he imagined.

Abruptly, a new thought occurred to him, and Matthew's smile slowly faded.

"Jill?" he said.

"Mmm?"

"I think I know ... I think I might know what's going on. I mean, I think I might know what's happening to your sister ... and to you."

She rolled over toward him.

"We already know what's happening," she said. "You cast the woowoo on Amy and me. What we don't know is what to do about it."

"I have a theory that might cast some light on that subject, too," Matthew said.

"Okay. Tell me."

"Actually, it's just a hypothesis," he said cautiously.

"Yes?"

"You ... uh ... you're probably not going to like it."

"Fucking tell me!"

"Imagine being pregnant again ... heavily pregnant."

"Okay ... that's no chore."

"How do you feel?"

"My back hurts and I'm tired. Apart from that, fucking great!"

"Yes, but what about your ... uh ... libido? Do you feel like ... making love?"

She looked him in the eye.

"Yes, Mister Quinn, I do. I want to fuck you seven different ways before sundown."

"Oh," he said, nonplussed.

"But," she continued, "I don't feel like I'm going to start pounding my head against the wall if I don't."

Matthew brightened. He nodded.

"It fits. Female ferrets can d... can have a severe reaction if they don't mate. It's a good example of how powerful biology can be. If I'm right, the key here is pregnancy."

She looked at him.

"You mean ... you're putting out some kind of signal that sends women into heat until you knock them up?"

"I ... I'm sorry," he said. "I know it seems ... uh ... disrespectful."

"Never mind that; keep going."

"Well ... my idea is that the ... craving ... stays intolerable until it is ... ah ... fulfilled ... by pregnancy."

"You think I'm pregnant already?" she asked.

"I ... uh ... I don't know. Probably not, I guess. Maybe ... maybe making love has the same result, but only temporarily."

"And imagining myself pregnant also does the trick?"

"Well ... I had half-expected you to ... uh ... be in trouble again, by this morning. Maybe, your ... uh ... daydream of pregnancy had an ameliorating effect."

He shrugged, suddenly crestfallen.

"It doesn't hold up too well, does it?" he said.

Jill looked thoughtful.

"To the contrary," she said. "I have a strong feeling that you're right. It's just normal human drives, only multiplied by ... by a large number. Certainly explains my urge to eat you alive yesterday ... and why I'm starting to feel like having at least a piece of you for breakfast this morning."

She looked at him.

"But ... why did you say I wouldn't like it?" she asked. "The hypothesis, I mean."

He shrugged uneasily.

"Because ... to help your sister, I would have to ... uh ... get together with her."

"Well, of course you would!" she said, surprised. "What else? You give Amy what she wants, namely, fuck her silly several times a day, with a view to planting a calzone in her kiln, and she'll be cured."

"Ah ... if I'm correct ... but ..."

She looked at him.

"Is that a problem?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well ... it could be ..."

"Are you trying to say you don't want to fuck my sister?" she asked, suddenly outraged.

"Ah ... I only thought that ..."

"Yes?!"

"... you might be jealous."

She stared at him, then laughed.

"Don't worry, Mister Quinn. Amy and I have shared everything conceivable since day one. We can certainly share you."

This was a little too much for Matthew. Her casual assumption that she could parcel out his ... uh ... sexual attentions ... as she wished challenged his composure.

"Give her a try, Mister Quinn," Jill continued, clearly oblivious of the effect her words were having. "She'll be a sweetheart in the sack. I guarantee it."

"And a madman, on occasion, I expect," she added.

"There is also the question of love," he said, taking care to remain civil.

"Oh, that really won't be a problem," she said lightly. "Men have a way of falling for women who give them heaven in bed, as long as they're not completely unbearable out of it."

"We're going to have to take pains to isolate you from other women, though," she said, thoughtfully. "We don't want to start an epidemic. Maybe Solomon had hundreds of wives and concubines. I don't see it working out in our case."

By now, Matthew was feeling a little outrage of his own. Despite the love she had already inspired in him, he was forming the opinion that she could do with a little correction from time to time.

"It seems to me, Jill," he said slowly, "that you could stand to think about my feelings a bit more. You can't just share me around as you want. I'm a person, not a ... a pound cake."

Jill looked at him, mildly surprised, then gave him a crooked little smile.

"You know, Mister Quinn," she said. "You're absolutely right. I let my temperament run away with me ... as usual."

"Is that an apology?" Matthew queried hopefully.

She grinned cheekily.

"Fuck, no! I never apologise," she said.

Matthew nodded solemnly.

"Of course you don't," he said.

Without warning, he reached out, captured her legs with one powerful arm, and began tickling the soles of her feet mercilessly.

Instantly, Jill dissolved into helpless, hooting laughter, and struggled like a wildcat, and swore like a pirate, and swore, and struggled, and hooted, while Matthew discovered just how incredibly arousing it could be to wrestle with a nubile, naked woman.

At last, Jill freed herself, but not before approximately half a jigger of pee had escaped her bladder.

"Quinn, you motherfucker, look what you made me do!" she cried.

Her discomfiture struck Matthew as incredibly funny. He laughed delightedly, a series of hearty guffaws.

Mortified, Jill clambered to her feet and set off for the bathroom. Before she could take more than a single step, Matthew jumped up, took hold of her naked hips with his powerful hands, and hauled her back with such strength that her torso performed an involuntary bow. Taking advantage of her position, he bent his knees, thrust, and with miraculous aim, or miraculous luck, filled her from behind.

Jill groaned lustfully and sank helplessly to the floor, so that her knees, breasts, and left cheek were pressed against the bedding, while her ass was hoisted high and heavenward. Reflexively, Matthew knelt with her, managing to keep himself deeply sheathed.

"Oh, you bastard!" she cried. "You delicious, overgrown bastard. Fuck me hard. Fuck me senseless."

Matthew did not quite fulfill the latter of these demands. He was too concerned that he might tear her vagina, or otherwise injure her internally. However, he did fuck her thoroughly enough that she could summon no complaints afterward. She was too busy dealing with a flood of ecstatic tears and tremulous sighs of repletion.

In the peaceful aftermath, with his woman snuggled trustingly against him like a koala joey against its parent, it occurred to Matthew to wonder who they had come from, the tears. So far, Jill had shown no tendency to cry; he felt bound to assume that Lily had come to the fore once more.

He realised that he might never be able to tell beforehand which aspect of his woman was going to be in control at any given moment. It was certainly going to keep him on his toes.

He looked down at her and realised for the first time that he had thought of her as 'his woman'.

My woman, he marvelled. I have a woman.

Then, he frowned.

Or two women, if you included Jill and Lily both.

Or three, or even four, if you added Amy and her ... uh ... other self.

He massaged his forehead. Gah! It was getting too complex, too overwhelming.

He wondered whether anyone else in the history of the world had ever had to deal with such an odd love triangle ... or quadrilateral ... or pentagon.

He sighed ruefully. There was no doubt about it: this was going to be a truly interesting relationship.

Then, he smiled: it was going to be an interesting relationship.