Guardian Angel

Zac stirred mid-morning. She slept on her side, facing him, with the sheets puddled around her knees. Holding still so he wouldn't wake her, he indulged in a visual tour of her body, studying her tits, the gentle curves of her waist and hips, her flat but soft tummy, and her tireless pussy. He relished how lovely they all were, and how different they looked when she was at rest.

She also awoke, and 'for some reason' they were both famished. Surprisingly, to me anyway, they were more interested in breakfast than fucking again. He made migas, scrambled eggs laced with onions, poblano peppers, cotija cheese, and tortilla strips. He made an extra-large batch, giving each of them an oversized plateful which they practically inhaled.

They each had a party to attend Saturday night, and they worked out a way to go to both events together by leaving one early and arriving at the other one late. They spent the afternoon apart, taking care of mundane weekend chores and errands. When hers were done, she returned to his apartment so they could ride to the parties together in one car.

She arrived earlier than she expected. He had just stepped out of the shower and answered the door wrapped in a towel. That towel was soon on the floor, her clothes on top of it. They ended up not going to either party.

That became a regular pattern: sometimes they met at his apartment, sometimes at hers, but often that was as far as they got, regardless of what their plans were or how much they intended to actually do them. They only reliably kept an engagement if it involved expensive tickets or when they met somewhere after work and both drove.

Two weeks later, they were at his apartment, in bed. Although it was only 10:00 am, they had gotten an early start, worn each other out, and had fallen back asleep. I detected trouble approaching - a very large guy coming up the stairs, mayhem on his mind. He was making an angry beeline for apartment 204. That would be Zac's.

I scanned his brain and found that he considered himself to be Sheila's rightful boyfriend, and somehow he had gotten Zac's address. He was 4 inches taller and 60 muscular pounds heavier than Zac. The apartment had no back door, so I had no way to get him and Sheila out unnoticed. I definitely didn't have the strength - or cleverness - to tip a fight in Zac's favor. All I was able to do was distract the brute from the number 204 and flood his mind with the number 203. I wasn't sure if that would be enough.

Zac and Sheila were awakened by the sound of an apartment door being pounded by a huge fist, sounding like the ogre was going to break through it.

"What's that?" she said.

"It sounds like someone's mighty pissed off at Mrs. Walker across the hall," he said.

Zac went and looked through his peephole and saw a very large male, but of course he didn't recognize him. When the brute said, "Open up, Sheila, I know you're in there," she turned ghostly white.

"I know that voice," she whispered, "it's my ex-boyfriend Cody." Zac held up his hand to keep her from saying more, so he could listen.

After a bit more pounding, Mrs. Walker opened the door and glared at Cody. He wasn't expecting an 85-year-old widow, sharp as a tack, 5' 1" tall and 93 pounds of pure attitude. She held her cell phone up for him to see, and said, "I've already called 911. You should probably leave."

"Not without Sheila. I know she's here."

"When the police arrive, I'll be happy to let them look. You'll probably be in cuffs by then. Feel free to wait, they'll be here any minute." Cody looked very confused, but he was smart enough to see that hanging around wasn't going to end well for him. He stomped down the hall and down the stairs. A minute later Zac, Sheila, and Mrs. Walker heard the sounds of a motor revving and tires squealing.

With the immediate danger over, Shiela explained, rather defensively, "Ex -boyfriend. I broke up with him weeks ago."

"He doesn't seem to have gotten that memo."

"He works near where I do, and I ran into him at lunch one day this week. He said we should get back together. Of course I declined. You saw his temper, I didn't want to make him mad. Maybe I was too subtle."

"How did he get my address?"

"I have no idea- oh, wait, remember Dave and Abbey, they met us here last Saturday, we went to the game with them?"

Zac nodded.

"I bet Dave told him - he and Cody are good friends."

When she was ready to leave, she described Cody's vehicle, a metal-flake red four-door pickup with duallies, a lift kit, and blacked-out chrome and rims. Zac walked around the block looking for it in case he was lurking nearby. I detected Cody was long gone, but he had obviously recognized Sheila's car - he let the air out of all four of her tires.

Zac dealt with the incident in a typically shallow way. I thought he had grown to genuinely care about Sheila, and that he would weather the Cody storm. While he was walking around looking for Cody's truck, though, he decided he would rather not have to worry about Cody at all. Any connection he felt with Sheila evaporated by the time he had aired up all four of her tires.

He coldly told her on the spot that he was done. She looked like she was going to tell him off, then decided not to waste her energy. She drove off without saying a word. At least he told her to her face, rather than just ghosting her.

I don't know if she returned to Cody or not, she wasn't my responsibility. Zac was, whether I considered him to be a decent human being or not.

: : : : :

I do more than shield Zac from violence. Paying attention to less significant details has the added benefit of saving Zac some inconvenience and keeping me entertained and alert. Just an example of one of the 'lesser' things I do: he was driving, and I sensed a problem ahead. I could tell it would be inconvenient but not life threatening. He was second in line at a red light, and I sensed that a short delay would keep him clear of whatever nuisance awaited.

When the light turned green, I distracted the lady in front of him from noticing. Zac tapped his horn, and she got her car going. In the meantime, a guy in a red Mustang one lane over passed Zac, delaying him from pulling around her. Zac bristled with frustration as the Mustang made it through the next light on yellow while Zac caught the red. He relaxed, though, a few minutes later when he saw the Mustang pulled over, getting the speeding ticket that would have been his if I hadn't intervened. He laughed at his 'luck.' You're welcome, Zac.

It didn't take Zac any time at all to replace Sheila, and he wasn't even trying. The following Friday he was having dinner by himself at a restaurant which was known for delicious food but a very casual atmosphere - order at a counter, wait for your food, and seat yourself. Being Friday night, the place was packed. When Zac got his tray, all the tables were taken. I noticed before he did someone getting ready to leave, and made sure he saw it.

He had just begun eating when I saw a pretty girl looking for a seat. I prompted him to check her out, but he only gave her a quick glance, she wasn't the flashy type he favored. She headed for a table that had just been vacated, but somebody else snagged it before she got there. I beamed at him that he should offer her the other seat at his table. He surprised me and did. He gestured at her, and I made sure she noticed. She thanked him profusely. Zac's gift of gab kicked in, and in no time they were chatting and laughing like old friends.

Her name was Emily. I scanned her mind, and not only did she not have a Cody to worry about, she had no current boyfriend at all. Even better, she carried nothing contagious. It didn't take any mind-reading ability to notice that she was quickly drawn to Zac.

She was quite pretty, but in a subtle way. Zac was unfortunately at his shallow worst, the Zac I disliked. All he saw was a 'plain' girl who not only seemed to lack a bodacious rack but also wore loose, comfortable clothes that didn't even accentuate what she did have. I flooded his brain not only with details about how pretty she actually looked but also how upbeat, interesting, and fun she was to talk to. The longer they talked, the more he agreed with me, the personality part anyway. By the time they were through eating, neither of them wanted to leave. An awkward silence fell between them.

Zac said, "Well, I guess we should give up our table, there are people waiting."

She sighed and said, "Yeah, you're probably right."

Zac stacked their dirty dishes on his tray, and they both spoke, Zac saying "Um, are you busy later-" and Emily, "What are you doing now-." They both laughed at saying essentially the same thing at the same time.

They went to a nearby club together. The band there turned out to be a good one that they both liked. They stayed until the end of the last set, engrossed in the music, which was too loud to talk over anyway. During band breaks they chatted on typical 'getting to know you' topics: job, favorite vacations, food likes and dislikes, and so forth.

Walking back to their cars, they faced another awkward silence. She broke it, saying, "I hate clichés."

He looked as puzzled as I felt by what that meant. "You know," she continued, "trite but necessary questions, like, for example, 'My place or yours?' It feels so disco-era, you know? I think it's a little sad that no one has come up with a better way to ask that."

Zac grinned. "I like how you're thinking," he said. "I'm fine with either, but if we do mine, I make a mean migas in the morning, and I have the ingredients. I'm just sayin'..."

Her smile back at him was huge. She said, "Cool. You just told me that you have more depth than most guys. A typical guy's brain shuts down the moment he realizes he's probably getting laid. You're actually thinking about afterward - I'm impressed."

Zac took it in stride that Emily was fascinated with him, but he wasn't particularly impressed with her. It wasn't that he thought she was ugly, he wouldn't have brought her home if he did, but he considered her looks to be rather average.

As they undressed, he finally began to notice how lovely she was. Every item of clothing she removed, every swath of skin she revealed, captivated him more and more. She took off her shirt, and her abdomen, which he assumed would be flabby, probably showing some muffin top, was actually alluringly flat with a hint of a six-pack showing, but somehow still adorably soft.

She took off her jeans, and he beheld her legs. When he first saw her at the restaurant, he thought her legs were a bit too skinny, then later at the club they seemed a little heavy. Right now, though, in person, they revealed themselves to be perfectly shaped and delightfully sleek. They reached all the way from her panties, lacy little things that didn't even try to contain her picture-perfect ass, all the way to the ground.

Zac already had his shirt and pants off, and Emily stifled a grin at the bulge in his boxer briefs - both at the size of his hard-on, which pleased her, and the level of arousal he was showing in response to her ongoing striptease.

She took off her bra, a sexy lacy thing that matched her panties. He already knew she didn't have the bodacious D-cups or double-Ds he usually went for, but he was delighted by the large orange-sized orbs she did have. They were not only much bigger than the little perkies he expected, they sat high and proud on her chest, completely sag-free, which of course Ds and double-Ds never were. He whispered, "Damn!" and this time she didn't try to hide her grin.

He dropped his drawers to the floor, and she licked her lips. She reached for her undies, but he said, "Wait, let me." He knelt on the floor in front of her, but before he touched her she turned her back to him, giving him a face full of firm, curvaceous, twenty-something-female ass. He cupped the exquisite cheeks in his palms, squeezed them gently, and hooked his fingertips in the lacy sides of her panties. He peeled them down slowly, savoring what they revealed, luscious smooth mounds, delightfully firm, topped with enchanting sacral dimples.

She turned around to face him and he looked up, resting his chin on her tummy, gazing at her face enticingly framed between the twin swells of her boobs. He leaned back and looked lower, taking in her body from top to bottom, liking what he saw, but still not fully recognizing how awesome she was. His eyes paused at her nipples and her navel, then continued down to the junction between her thighs, where her cleft played a coy game of peek-a-boo with him.

She sat him down on the sofa, knelt in front of him, and took his cock into her mouth. Zac didn't expect much, he condescendingly thought she looked like the kind of girl who probably resented giving head, who saw it as a chore, whose attitude was something like, 'Why would I want a dick in my mouth? Ugh! Let's get this over with as quickly as possible.'

He couldn't have been more wrong.

She started out with long, slow strokes, swirling her tongue on the underside of his cock. She sucked hard on both in and out strokes, and gradually sped up. She was as good as he had ever felt, her lips and tongue intense and electric. Barely two minutes in he already needed to concentrate on not cumming too soon. It felt too incredible to end, but he didn't want to cum in her mouth, at least not yet, before he had fucked her, and it was becoming almost impossible not to. Her lips, her suction, her eagerness, her enjoyment at his pleasure were almost overwhelming. When he was about two strokes away from bursting he reluctantly pulled out of her mouth.

He led her to the bedroom and placed her across the bed on her back. He was going to return the oral favor, show her the same enthusiasm she showed him, probably even to the point of making her cum, but before he settled into place between her knees she pulled him on top of her and aligned him at her entrance. He pushed his tip in, gazing across her, becoming more and more enthralled with how incredible her body looked and felt.

He entered her slowly, reverently, taking his time, savoring every inch of depth he attained. He not only relished her inner heat and her tightness, but he also took the time to notice some things he had never bothered to see in other girls, such as how her body flexed and her back arched as she eagerly received him.

They started slow, Zac rocking his hips, Emily rolling hers, meeting in the middle every stroke. Time all but stood still as they gained momentum. When they reached a sensuously rich medium pace, he felt a shift in her body, just a tiny adjustment in her posture, a micro change in the angle of her hips and the curve of her back, fine-tuning how everything fit together. He heard her say, almost a whisper, "Perfect."

An earlier Zac would have thought, "Perfect? I don't think so. I'll show you perfect." Then he would have sped up and concentrated on power-fucking her into oblivion. This new Zac, however, having already been surprised by her looks and her dick-sucking ability, was receptive to trying her version of 'perfect.' He settled into the lush tempo and focused on stroking her with his full length, fully enjoying the sensuousness of the warm, enveloping friction of her channel.

Her tempo worked wonderfully. He hit his stride and was no longer in any danger of cumming too soon. The opposite, actually; he always lasted extra-long after almost cumming and then not. He loved a lengthy romp, and this one was so luscious that if it lasted forever he would be quite happy.

As much as he was enjoying himself, though, he pulled out of her. She moaned in frustration, then growled eagerly when he stood beside the bed, gripped her hips, and pulled her across the covers so her ass half hung off the edge. He lifted her legs, an ankle in each hand, and held her feet as far up as they would go, forming a giant 'V' with her legs. He slipped back into her, and they recaptured their luxuriant tempo, this time with him reaching a little deeper. He brought her feet together and placed them on his shoulder, then rearranged her a bit more so her ankles crossed, making her super tight. He picked up the pace a bit. He was ready to cum, and she seemed ready as well.

It took awhile. She came first, grabbing her knees with her hands, pulling them up to her chest, rolling her hips double-time, and moaning a low, raspy moan that warbled as he bottomed out in her. The sounds she made, how her tits looked bouncing in sync with their thrusting, and how her orgasmic contractions squeezed his cock, all triggered him as well. They fell into a sweaty, disorganized heap, arms and legs pointing everywhere.

They made eye contact and both grinned. She tucked into his arms, her forehead on his shoulder, and barely a minute later they were both fast asleep.

: : : : :

In their second weekend together they accidentally struck lightning. They were doing doggie, going at it hard, when he brought his knees together, reaching for a bit more depth. The unintended result was he entered her from a slightly higher angle, thrusting downward, directly stroking her g-spot on each in and out. Her body quivered, her pussy convulsed uncontrollably, and she howled, loud, low, and long. He had never heard such a sound, and his cock had never felt such an intense squeeze.

They collapsed in a quivering heap. "I don't have any idea what that was," she wheezed at him before they even caught their breath. She grinned and continued, "But I want to find out."

Neither one of them knew enough about female anatomy even to know what a g-spot was, much less how they could repeat that result, so they had to resort to trial and error. Lots of trial and error. No one seemed to mind. Having to fuck even more often than they already were wasn't much of a chore.

It took them weeks to stumble upon the key. During that time they did a lot of doggie, since that was how they first experienced it. It wasn't doggie when they hit the jackpot again though. She was on her back, and he was in front of her, holding himself up on extended arms, his knees splayed on either side of her hips, her legs curled around his back.

He pushed her knees up to her chest. When that didn't make her explode, he curved his hips forward, the opposite of arching his back, and resumed pumping her with full force. That did it. She erupted, quivered, quaked, and convulsed. Her eyes crossed, and she melted into a limp heap.

She was too overstimulated to move a muscle or speak. Zac was relieved when her eyes focused enough to make eye contact with him and she grinned. She said, "That's what I'm talking about."

It took her a long while to be ready to go again, but when she was, they tried the same position again, with the same adjustment of his back. The results were just as impressive. They both fell asleep with huge grins on their faces.

They naturally wanted to find out how to get that same response from every one of their favorite positions. That gave them a lot of research to do, which, no surprise, they did eagerly. It took more than a little trial and error, but position by position, they discovered what to adjust - a small roll of her hips here, a slight change in his posture there. She was having the biggest climaxes of her life, and of course she absolutely loved that. She was equally impressed, though, with his willingness to invest that much time figuring out how to make her feel so good.

The most difficult one to solve was how to invoke the magic zing when he went down on her. He had noticed a couple of times while fingering her that there was one particular spot on the ceiling of her channel which almost always created a huge response. He tried combining that with tonguing her, but contorting his arm to stay in contact with that tiny spot while his mouth was on her clit put a painful strain on his wrist and forearm.