Impact 16: of Intinction

"I think you're flirting with me."

"I'm hoping you will take me home and make me do terrible things."

"What kinds of terrible things."

"Anything you want. Everything you want."

I think of how gentle she has been, how fragile I've been. I think of how exciting it was when she told me this morning she had fantasized about being "strict", to finally have her take me by the hair, how fast she came.

"I want you to use me," I whisper in her ear. Feeling my body temperature spike from just speaking the words. "I want you to ride me, to be strict."

She looks at me, studies me, my face is flush, my cheeks burning. But she doesn't say anything, her face is a mask. I think of the look she gave me when she spanked me, feeling my core go molten.

"Maybe I need a spanking? I ask quietly, shocked to realize how badly I want her to lose control. I picture myself weeping and struggling as she truly beats my ass and it makes me gush.

"I have something to confess," she whispers. "And you may want to spank me... The night we ran into each other at Charlie Bird?"

"Worst dates ever."

"They were... but I chose mine because he was the very worst I could find."

"What do you mean?"

"I was so jealous when you told me you were going out with the bike store guy... so when you told me where he was taking you I accepted a date from the biggest douche bag I could find and asked him to take me there."

"The Dandy Fascist was a ruse?!?"

"Ha! That's a good name for him. But yes, I lied. I never in a million years intended to go home with the 'Dandy Fascist'."

"You were dressed to kill," I said, remembering the little silk shift, how she had looked almost naked in it. "You told me you were horny enough to fuck a busboy..." I accuse jokingly.

"Not a boy..." she admits. " I wanted to fuck you - right there in that bathroom when I said that, in the middle of that restaurant, in front of everyone... so that wasn't really a lie. I wanted you so bad that night, Sarah, I could hardly see straight. I had dressed for you."

"I've wondered about how you were there, but never thought-"

"I never meant for you to confront him," she rushes to tell me. "Oh my God!" she says remembering, her face going pale. "...I just wanted to see you, to see the bike store guy. It made me so sad when I saw you come in with him I thought I would cry... that's why I was in the bathroom."

"Did he really tell you your ass was big?"

"The Dandy Fascist? Oh yes! And that art was just a fucking a hobby... he was truly awful - but that's not why I was upset. I was very afraid you had... lost interest."

"I was so mad at myself for saying yes to that date with Roger," I remember. "He turned out to be such a jerk, but even before that, all I could think was that he wasn't you... and then when I saw you I was so happy, I couldn't believe it."

"But you wondered if it was a ploy?"

"Not that night. I didn't think you thought of me that way... I thought maybe what had happened... wasn't about me... that you were just so lonely? And so maybe running into you was just another coincidence... like the coffee shop?"

"That was a coincidence! And the bachelorette, I wasn't stalking you, I swear."

"I think I like it... that you stalked me... even if it was just that once."

"The way you stood up to that thug! If I wasn't already in love with you..." Claire admits, a far away look in her eyes. "Do you know the cliche about women knowing best how to please one another?"

"Of course," I tell her, thinking of Darci telling me that, laughing at how I'd blushed, thinking she had shocked me, feeling ashamed by how aroused I'd become.

"It's not true. You are a skilled and generous lover. But I've had skilled and generous lovers before. My body has never reacted to anyone the way it reacts to you," Claire whispers, her voice hardly audible, even with her lips against my ear. "Before you touched me you were already the most exciting lover I have ever had. Just to look at you made me swoon."

"I didn't know that," I whisper.

"It makes me swoon to look at you now," she whispers back, resting her head on my shoulder. "No one has ever made me feel the way you do, I've never loved anyone like this."

She sounds so girlish and scared telling me these things, so vulnerable. I have my arm around her shoulder and squeeze. Her arms are around my waist, holding on like she's afraid I'll try to get away.

I am a little disappointed when she falls asleep against me as we cross the bridge, but not surprised.

'No fucking tonight,' I tell myself.

But it's then, with her asleep in my arms, that I think again about how I'd put my misfired fantasy out of my mind earlier. I had been afraid I would be haunted by shame all night but instead I distracted myself with thoughts of Claire so intense I had had to jill in a public toilet. I'm weirdly proud of myself, of the mind trick I'd used to free myself from my guilt and shame. And even now, I'm over it. It's not that the shame is forgotten, it's gone. Whatever my mind was doing to me in that moment, it has no power over me now.

I think of Claire saying she wanted to fuck her right me right there in that bathroom. I try to remember that moment, the way she had turned for me to show me her dress. She had pouted and shown me her ass. I'd told her she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known. I remember how that startled her, how deeply I meant it. I had shown her my pussy that night, told her that I'd shaved it for her and then I'd eaten her out.

Looking down on her sleeping against me, the old fashioned pearly smell of her hair, it strikes me that Claire is right. She is the most exciting lover I've ever had, could ever imagine having, before she had even touched me, and when she did touch me, that was all it had taken - no skill or special woman-knowledge. I had come harder from a simple touch of her finger than I ever had before.

"Claire," I tell her in a normal speaking voice. "I am going to fuck you like a girl."

She doesn't stir, but my body is heating against her. I kiss the top of her head and she moves against me, hugging me tighter. I can feel my lust exploding, like forest fire bursting from a tiny ember, consuming the dry tinder of my mind, filling my abdomen with a heat that was so aggressive it's blinding.

"No sleep for the wicked," I promise her sleeping head.

She's snoring softly by the time we reach TriBeCa. I wake her only after I've paid the driver. She's a little groggy as I help her out of the cab.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, I kept you up too late last night," I apologize. "You're still jet lagged."

"It just hits me all at once, like walking into a wall."

We walk upstairs together, my arm around her waist, supporting her, her arm over my shoulder, accepting my support. I take her keys and open the door for her. She mumbles about not really being tired but it's not convincing. We get her cleaned up. She leans her butt on the edge of the sink while I wash her face with a warm washcloth.

"That feels nice," she tells me, her hands on my hips.

"Do you want me to brush your teeth?"

"Really?" she laughs.

"If you want," I promise. She's smiling at me, kisses me and hugs me.

"Is this what it's going to be like, staying together?" she asks.

"I hope so," I tell her, separating her toothbrush from mine and offering to brush for her. She smiles as I load it with toothpaste and put it in her mouth. She lets me begin brushing before taking it from me. Rather than look at ourselves in the mirror we stay where we are, watching each other while we brush. We are both taking our time; languid strokes. It's calming and strangely erotic; almost hypnotic.

I undress her in the dark, cooing and encouraging her until all she is wearing are her panties and shoes. Turning her so her back is to the bed, I pull down her panties, letting her drop onto the mattress. And then kneel in front of her, untangling the lacy little things from her heels. She slides onto her back as I work at the little straps and buckles of her shoes.

"That feels wonderful," she says to the darkness. "To be taken care of, to know you care for me."

"I'll always care for you."

"Even when I'm old?"

"You are old."

"Bitch," she laughs, her voice smiling and soft.

I lean over, and moving my head slowly back and forth, sweeping her feet with my hair, then bowing low, I kiss the tops of her feet before lifting them and moving her legs onto the bed.

"Your bitch," I promise as I shimmy out of my dress. Her eyes are all that move as I take off my bra and panties. Her body looks slack, her breathing is slow and steady. I think of how wonderfully passive she was this morning as I fingered and ate her out.

"What have I done to deserve this?" she had asked this morning as I carefully licked and sucked, gently luring a second orgasm from her depths.

I am careful in the dark as I climb into bed next to her and curl up facing her. No show for Helen tonight, but there is more than enough light from the street for us to see each other. Her eyes flutter, as if she's trying to will them open, but they close. I should let her sleep...

I put my arm over her, stroke her bare back, feeling the points of her spine, stroke the back of her neck - so long and thin. I fondle her ears and touch her hair, just enjoying the feel of her, that I can do these things. Intimacy for intimacy's sake. She lets me touch her face, makes no complaint as I pull her lips back to look at her teeth. I press my finger against them, polishing them with my fingertip, loving their perfection, even where they are crooked.

"I want to fuck you," I tell her. Her breathing is slow and deep. "I want to make you cum."

She doesn't open her eyes but she tries to roll over, twisting slowly and dropping her arm, outstretched, on the far side of bed until her shoulders are flat on the mattress, but her hips are still twisted to the side. She makes a petulant sound and gives up. I lift her knee until she's fully on her back and there's room for me between her legs. I kiss her lips, which she parts. Her mouth is soft, her lips and tongue almost slack.

My hand smooths her skin, running over her ribs, her flank, the wonderfully flat expanse of her belly. I lick her lips and teeth as if they were my own sleeping mouth, pushing to feel the space between her teeth and her cheek, the undiscovered country of her gums, probing the limits - maxilla and mandible - the wet fleshy gutters where the hard flesh of her jaws gives way to the soft elastic tissue of her lips and cheeks.

My hand is between her legs petting the valley of her inner thighs. I move back and forth down one thigh and up the other. Her lips are dry and perfectly smooth, my fingertip catches at her center, and I feel a fragile tug of moisture slowing the movement of my skin over hers. I let my finger linger, move it in circles too small to drag us apart, only big enough to push and pull the point where we meet. I am gathering a dew drop's worth of moisture, smearing it.

I am holding her bottom lip between mine. Sucking softly at the flacid lobe of flesh, wetting it with my saliva, licking it like I would my own flesh. She is breathing through her nose. Her breath is warm against my skin, coming in a rhythm so long and slow it's almost imperceptible.

My fingertip is tacky again and pulls her skin past some liminal point and I feel her give. Her outer lips open and release her inner labia. I imagine sails unfurling as my finger drags her open, releasing the slippery wet flesh within.

"Mmm..." she breathes as I let her lip slip free, kissing her jaw and neck as I begin to shift down the bed. Her body, so still and limp beneath me as I climb between her spread legs, is giving off that particular, almost feverish heat of exhaustion.

"I'm going to fuck you, Claire."

"yesss..." she breathes.

As I take my place between her legs, my mouth over her open sex, I move two fingers through her, enjoying the touch of her wet folds, the fleshy embrace of her lips. I slide my fingers easily into her, pressing upwards against her vagina, pushing them as deep as I can, curling them up towards my thumb which is rubbing the underside of her clitoris.

"You have the most beautiful cunt," I tell her. "I love looking at it, the pale colors... your lips are so wonderfully plump and full."

I am running my fingers over her, exploring her folds, softly pinching the petal-like flesh of her inner labia, they are wet and warm. She smells strong and musky after a long day. I brace myself for the first taste. I move my thumb out of the way and sink my fingers into her as deep as they will go, stretching her.

My mouth is wet, saliva pours off my tongue as I press it to her already sopping flesh. I stick it out as far as I can and, holding my chin in my palm, push my tongue's pointed tip against the underside of my fingers, forcing it into her already crowded channel. Her taste is strong. I find myself comparing her flavor to the mild saltiness of Ikura, Claire is tangly and pungent, making my already wet mouth fill with saliva, it's pouring off my tongue as I force the little muscle to go as deep as it can. I think of her with the Norwegians she had told me they were both "wonderfully long".

Her body is still and her breathing slow as I fuck her with my tongue and fingers. I imagine the two "man-boys."

She had met them skiing, "they crashed into me on the slopes," she told me, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously. We all ended up in a pile, but they were wonderful, they helped me back to my lodge - when I saw them out of their snow gear... they were so young," she had said. "Just boys."

When she told me that I thought she was my age, I imagined they were eighteen maybe. Now I wonder what she had meant. Maybe they were as old as me. All she had told me was they were "full grown".

"They were big boys, two meters?" she'd said, holding her hand above her head. "But their bodies were smooth. What little hair they did have was so fine and fair it was almost white... Neither of them had beards to speak of. Baby seals!"

What must it have been like? Their erections pushing into her, crowding each other inside her vagina, slick with her cum and their semen.

"They were so excited to take turns fucking me," she confided with a wink. "And then when I told them to cum in me," she had laughed, "I could have asked for anything after that - still they balked when I told them I wanted them both at once."

Still smiling, she made a face of mild impatience, as if they had balked at cleaning the dishes.

"...boys," she'd tsked.

I try to imagine what it would have felt like, the two of them pumping against each other, squeezed tight by her.

"Sometimes they moved like one big twisting cock, but it was best for all three of us when they were at odds - pumping almost like pistons inside of me, fucking each other and me at the same time... It was like gripping two eels," she had told me, wiggling the index and middle fingers of her left hand in the fist of her right hand and smiling wickedly, laughing at my scarlet cheeks. "And they were both so wonderfully long," she said, holding her hands apart to show me, making me squeal with laughter.

I picture pink and white bodies sandwiching Claire. She had told me their muscles were smooth and soft like girls, that the three of them had laughed and joked while getting into position, jostling and adjusting.

"I was very encouraging - you have to be when they are so young," she had told me with a knowing wink. She had been seducing me. I had been the young one she was encouraging that night. And now I am sucking her cunt, now it's me pushing into her, my smooth hairless body.

'Let me be your selkie,' I think, picturing the mythical sea creatures, a woman hidden under a seal skin.

"uhhh Sarah," she groans. "do it... fuck me like a girl..."

No part of me had thought Claire was awake when I said that. I almost laugh, but I keep slathering her cunt with my tongue. She is beginning to moan. I'm pumping two fingers into her, when I add a third her groaning gets louder, more insistent.

"Uhhhh, fuuuuck Sarah, yesss..." she rumbles as I add my pinky, stretching her. Her body is still limp, her feet making little pushing motions on either side of me.

"Please Sarah, fuck... auhhh, fuck me hard..."

Her voice sounds so strange, like it's coming from the depths, rising slowly through her flesh rather than being expelled from her lungs.

"do it... sarah, please..."

I imagine Claire, naked, pressed and held between the two man-boys, one below the other above. The three of them moaning and flexing. I imagine the three of them the way she described their cocks, long and thin, pale and smooth and hard.

All four fingers are up to the second knuckle, I am drooling onto them, lubricating them. But she's so wet it hardly matters. I think of Gabby squeezing my hand, making the music squeal, her voice in my ear, her excitement, the way her eyes danced when she told me how wonderfully small and narrow my hands are.

As I turn my hand and my fingers compete with one another for space in the little passage, I imagine the boys, the engorged heads of their cocks compressing against each other, both seeking the same tight entrance. The three of them had gone quiet. Claire remembered holding herself as still as possible as they entered her in unison, the two of them pushing into her slowly, but with great force. She had told me the stacked twisting feel of their slippery erections moving inside her had made it hard not to jerk and squirm, that their hips had clamped hers, their hands squeezed and gripped.

"Ahhh ffffk Sarah! Yessss... Oh YES!" Her fists are halfheartedly beating the mattress. The soles of her feet are turned inwards and weakly gripping my waist, her knees spread obscenely.

My fingers are entirely in her. I slather and suck at her clitoris as the knuckles of my hand are compressed, curving my palm into a shallow bowl. My heart is pounding in my chest, I can feel the pressure of my racing blood in my face and head. I feel like I'm going to burst. I take deep breaths trying to calm myself, but I'm not just excited I'm afraid.

I think of the cool matter-of-fact way she tells me to do things, to suck her clit, to lick her ass. I will my voice to be steady.

"I am going to fuck you like a girl, Claire," I tell her again, my voice is calm, as if what I'm about to do is unremarkable. "I am going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked."

"HHG!"

But Claire gasp sounds pained and my knuckles are compressed by a powerful contraction. I shock myself with the image of my hand covered in blood, the sheets soaked in it, and Claire screaming. I flinch, start pulling back.

"I'm sorr-"

"Nooo," she hisses. "Please Sarah, do it-" her words are cut off by a sharp intake of breath, and another contraction. "NGHHH..."

It's so intense it's a little frightening but her pleasure is plain. She's already starting to cum. She flexes and bares her teeth at me as I regain my confidence and begin to push again.

"Fucking DO it, you bit-" she growls, but bites back on what she was going to say. I think of her pulling my hair, grinding against me, swearing in French but not at me, never calling me names, holding back, never allowing herself to lose control. I snap.

"Say it!" I spit. "I want to hear you say it!"

"What??" she demands. Her voice high and suddenly plaintive, she sounds confused and desperate, and then she howls, "Oh fuck Sarah PLEASE!! Fuck me Sarah! Fuck me HARD!"

I had wanted her to finish calling me a bitch, to hear her call me a whore and a slut, but this... this is Claire begging, howling for me - to be fucked by me.