Mars Memoirs Ch. 01

And likes it.

My fingers trace the gap around to her stomach as I kiss her flushed cheek. "Mmmm," I cleverly murmur. My attention is so focused on giving her the lightest kiss possible that I don't notice my recalcitrant fingers inching further up her stomach. I hope she doesn't either. When they reach her bra, her hand leaps up, but my hasty retreat forestalls counterattack. "Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting." Sun Tzu.

Kyla's breathing deepens as my fingers cavort on her bare belly. Their motions are random, or so I hope it seems, but they always meander just a little higher with each arcing caress.

Her hand springs up again when one of my fingertips finds fabric. I kiss her earlobe, envelope it, as my finger risks staying put, playing on the silky cloth, nudging the soft mound beneath. Her hand, torn, trembles and teeters. Tumbles. My thumb opposes my fingers as they lightly squeeze, traversing around her hillock's base.

Her eyelids flutter as my lips touch hers, nuzzling the soft folds. My fingers begin to scale the slopes as they caress, then fall back. Traverse to new territory, then ascend. Always stopping short of the summit.

We both know their goal. I want her to want them there, pinching her point, pulling, turning, twisting. But not yet. I must wait, let desire intensify, become need. Her mouth comes alive under mine, enfolding my lips as they have been caressing hers.

Kyla inhales, holds her breath in anticipation, as my fingers and thumb again creep up the slope of her left breast. Staying just below the pinnacle, they embrace the small ridge, the swell where her areola begins, exploring. She exhales and resumes breathing only when my fingers descend.

My second foray again stills her breath until my retreat. On the third, my descent draws the smallest whimper of disappointment. The fourth assent is even slower, more deliberate, my fingers compressing the slight puffiness of her areola, lingering, tracing its circumference. Their withdrawal draws another whimper, and my impatient fingers, of their own accord, give Kyla what she wants.

Her inhaled "Ah!" spurs me to tease, tug, and roll her erect point through the thin, slick cloth. Their intent obvious, my fingers' abrupt departure draws no protest when they slide up, then quickly jet inside her bra. Kyla arches, pushing her hard nipple into the thrumming fingertips. She has begun to rock her hips.

When my mouth closes over the summit of her right breast and I exhale, the warmth and moisture elicit another "Ah." Her attention diverted, I hunch up on my knees and my left hand replaces my right, darting in, invading the gap of her blouse, rushing under her bra, and seizing the watchtower atop the hill. As I close my lips on her already plump right nipple and roll it to and fro, my freed right hand finds her knee, its fingers circling, sliding, exploring her inner thigh, working ever higher. Her pelvic rocking increases and her thighs drift apart. Just enough.

Damp heat radiates from the juncture of the seams of the legs of her shorts. My sigh matches hers. Part of me throbs and I marvel at how making love to this woman I love has me hard again. I keep teasing her nipples as my hand moves up to the top of her mons Veneris and my fingers dance on the denim.

I begin a pattern of sliding my hand down in a V, thumb on the near side and two fingers on the other, massaging her labia majora down to their juncture below her frenulum. Her vestibule bulbs, which I'm caressing on each down stroke, are under her outer lips and, more important, are connected to her clitoris. On the upstroke I feather just one finger up the valley between her distended petals. When her lips have enlarged, her bulbs engorged, I add back and forth motions at the top of my circuits, rolling the shaft of her clit gently beneath its hood.

Kyla's lower lip is suffering between her teeth as her quickened breathing hisses around them. She's stifling moans deep in her throat. My mouth leaves her breast to brush kisses on her fluttering eyelids as I continue caressing her pudendum. My daring hand slides up to the juncture of skin and shorts. Kyla is lissome, fit, her stomach concave. Access. When my finger sneaks under the hem, heading south, her hand lands on mine and holds it fast. Foiled.

I fall back to my previous rampart and resume my rhythmic circuits, spending more time rolling her clit's shaft back and forth over her pubic bone. I add up and down motions, which I know slides the hood along its length and over its head. As her arousal builds, her body will want, even demand, that which I so want.

Kyla's shallow breathing, fast and hard, her squirming under my fingers, hips raising, pushing back against them, betray her desire. Her readiness. My hand again moves up to the waist of her shorts and a fingertip dares to venture inside. Her hand elevates and trembles towards mine, but falters. Falls.

I'm in. My fingers snake under the loose fabric, ducking inside the hem of her panties, massaging her mons, twirling her tight pubic hair. Petting her pussy. Moving lower. Slowly. Inexorably.

So wet! So hot!

I knead each labia majora in turn, caressing each bulb, loving her stifled moans and how her hips rock, pushing her vulva to me. Her vagina's entrance opens as her legs splay wider and I accept the invitation, press inside. Repeatedly. Spelunking in her secret cave. A second finger joins the first.

They curl as they begin sliding in and out, their shafts lightly rubbing both sides of her clitoris. Kyla is breathing hard, panting, and she is unable to stifle her frenzied thrashing. Her quivering quim dances wildly, but my fingers, anchored in her vagina, stay in her groove. I freeze, making her wait, making her want it more, building the tension.

"Don't stop. Keep going," she whispers vehemently.

I begin a very sedate pace, and whisper back, "Go with it. It will be all the better when it happens."

"No! Faster, harder. Please." Punctuated by an anguished moan.

I stay slow. "But it will be..."

"God damn it! Do it! Now!" Angry, anguished, desperate.

I realize I've erred and instantly triple the speed and intensity. When she tenses, gasps, and trembles, I slow and lighten my strokes, letting Kyla push and rub her clit against my fingers to control her climax. Her vagina contracts rhythmically on my fingertips and I am overcome, deeply affected by her strangled moans and whimpers.

Her hand clutches mine. Too much. I still my fingers, -- I'm not into sexual torture, except my own, evidently -- curl them off her clitoris, but keep the tips inside her. Her hand stays on mine but, instead of pulling it away, gives gentle squeezes.

I bask in the warm, ethereal aura emanating out of me, drawn to Kyla. It meets the one from her approaching me. They merge, interlace, and the composite enfolds us both in its golden glow. Time suspends.

I kiss her deeply, then murmur, "I love you, Kyla."

She purrs.

I push further into her. She starts, arches, and moans softly. But doesn't stop my hand. Hers leaves mine and sweeps over her head as she stretches like a cat, luxuriating in the building passion. My fingers accelerate, tempo and tension guided by her sounds and motions. I kiss her trembling forehead as her orgasm overtakes her.

She pulls my hand away only after she's panted and thrashed through another glorious climax. I withdraw my fingers, then slowly, ostentatiously, insert them into my mouth. And suck. I see her watching me until I playfully roll my eyes back in my head. From our chats yesterday I know she remembers Jaws, the shark's ecstasy when he chomped a tasty morsel. My chuckle answers her giggle.

Kyla's hurried commotion refocuses my eyes just in time to see her shorts and panties slide past her knees. She's struck a V before they hit the floor and grabs my handle, pulling me onto her. "God, you're amazing, John, to be hard again. I really want, I need, your big cock inside me. Fuck me, John. Fuck me now."

Taking our dying family pet, the sweetest Golden Retriever ever, on her final ride, to the vet, was the hardest thing I'd ever done. Until now. When I hold back Kyla issues a frustrated moan and lunges her pussy up to me. Her hot wet folds feel fabulous enclosing the head of my penis. But this can't happen. I pull back.

"Kyla, I gave you my word that I wouldn't fuck you, wouldn't take advantage of you. Just lie back. I'm very good with my tongue, and..."

"Damn it, John! Fuck me! DO IT NOW!"

To this day I believe I would have kept my promise, but the enraged voice from behind stops everything.

"God damn you, Kyla! You two-timing bitch! You've betrayed me!" As I roll to the side I see another gorgeous woman, visage contorted in anger. Her rosy, flushed face nicely compliments her flaming red hair and fiery countenance. A beautiful Biblical Lilith bent on vengeance.

Kyla is unimpressed. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Mary, you know I torture men, control them, make them suffer. This is just my latest victim, John. John, meet Mary, my fiancé."

Still irate, "But you promised me you wouldn't let them fuck you..."

"And she didn't," I leap in, instinctively defending the woman who now owns my heart. "That's just what she did -- manipulated me, drained me, then made me get her off..."

Mary's booming, hissed, "Bullshit!" silences me.

She turns back on Kyla, fuming, "I've been watching for nearly an hour, bitch! It was quite a show. I did love how you made him squeal and beg, but then you let him get you off, make LOVE to you. Worst, I just heard you tell him to FUCK you!"

I once again enter the fray, "But I didn't. Because I know she is saving that for you."

"Shut up, asshole! This doesn't involve you!" Mary ignores me as she launches back into Kyla, "Even if you did find the only trustworthy man alive, who actually kept his word and didn't screw you, you still WANTED him to fuck you! You deceitful bitch! Faithful fiancé? My ass!" Loud sobbing.

"Oh for God's sake, Mary! You had that tryst with Janel just two weeks ago! That cheap-ass whore! What the hell did you see in her? Who was unfaithful first, bitch?"

They are nose-to-nose, faces crimson, sparks shooting from their eyes, sputtering defiance as they loose salvos of barbed, cutting insults.

Suddenly Mary grabs Kyla and kisses her violently. Kyla roughly shoves her away, but Mary launches herself at her anew and, after an initial tussle, Kyla responds and the kiss becomes passionate. Beyond passionate. Hands grope madly as bodies collide and intertwine. Buttons tinkle on the floor as garments are rent and flung aside. The room feels a sauna.

They stumble, lurch onto the bed and thrash about, making violent love, waging intimate war, wrestling, biting, pinching, slapping, grabbing, each trying to gain advantage, to dominate, to get on top and stay there. I'm aghast and rapt, an acutely aroused third wheel.

Kyla executes a clever reversal and wins the grudge match when she gets her arms in a death grip around Mary's writhing hips, her head between Mary's snow-white thighs, and her tongue deep inside her vulva. Mary, intensely aroused by everything she's witnessed -- my torture, Kyla's orgasms, their fervid battle -- comes. Instantly. Massively. High-pitched, ardent yelps resound off the hard log walls as she flails and convulses uncontrollably.

I'm almost to the door, clothes in my arms, beating a stealthy retreat on tiptoe, when Kyla's sultry voice freezes me. "Where do you think you're going, John? Come back. I want you. Come here and fuck me. Now."

Gasping for breath, Mary extricates herself from Kyla's grasp and objects vehemently, "No way, bitch. Let him go. You've got ME! You don't need a man, even if he is the only honest one alive."

Kyla tartly retorts, "John's my new 'special friend,' I like him, and I want him to stay. You're just going to have to accept that."

Still deep in the throes of furious, libidinous passion, Mary launches herself off the bed at me -- I am the helpless gnu to her pouncing lioness -- and rips my clothes from my hands. Her eyes leeringly lock on my hard, dripping erection -- why is watching women do each other so damned hot? -- and, turning to Kyla, says snidely, "OK, if you get to have a 'fuck friend' then so do I."

To me, "You'll do, John. It's been forever since I've had a nice big cock in my pussy, and it's time." Mary grabs my pole and levers me towards the bed.

Though intrigued by this development, I aver, "I don't think so. Mary, you're gorgeous, incredibly sexy, but I'm in love with Kyla."

"Get serious! You just met her. You don't know a thing about her, her quirks, her nasty habits, her cute snoring, her two-timing infidelities! And besides, I'm a much better lay. Now, be a good boy. Come here and fuck me."

Her grip on my penis is fierce, painful, but I pull back. "No, I have a say in this and..."

Kyla, annoyed, exasperated, "Oh, for heaven's sake, John, just fuck her. It's fine with me, and she'll never shut up if you don't." Kyla throws Mary backwards onto the edge of the bed, grabs my cock, drags me between her fiancé's wide-spread legs, aims me, and gooses me hard, driving my hips forward. And my member deep into Mary's burning, dripping pussy. Her calves alight on my shoulders as I start easing in and out.

In charge, Kyla orders lasciviously, "Good; now fuck away, John." As I begin serious pumping, loving how Mary's hips curl towards me as I penetrate her, how she contracts her vaginal muscles, squeezing me as I withdraw, Kyla lies down and begins kneading and sucking Mary's breasts and fingering her clitoris. My thumb finds Kyla's clit and rediscovers how she prefers circular strokes to vertical. As Mary's moaning crescendos, becomes more and more intense, her rapid, high-pitched yelps begin again.

Kyla leaps up and plants her pussy squarely on Mary's mouth. She elevates, leaving only the very tip of Mary's tongue dancing on her clitoris, and I savor the look of wanton passion and ardent love on her face as Kyla leans to me, pulls my head to hers and kisses me. The sweetest, hottest kiss ever ends when her strangled moans signal her impending climax. I watch her marvelous amber eyes lose focus, roll back and close just before mine follow suit.

The rhythmic clamping of Mary's spasming, convulsing vagina on my cock yanks me over the edge yet again. As consciousness dissolves, my animalistic grunts and growls blend in glorious cacophony with Mary's squealing yelps and Kyla's fevered moans as we are swept up into the furious, howling hurricane's swash of the first of our many simultaneous orgasms.

* *

"John, don't be alarmed. Everything's fine. We just passed through a meteor shower. The noise awoke you, but there was no damage. Close your eyes and go back to sleep now." Nurse Lauren Clemens' lovely grey-blue eyes smile down at me reassuringly through the clear bubble lid of my hibernation chamber.

I breathe deeply, enjoying the rose-scented gas that is keeping me asleep. As the curtain of unconsciousness descends, my mind conjures yet another vivid memory, this time of my wedding, of my bride, Mary, sobbing in abject sorrow as she mumbles, "I do."

Author's note:

Dear reader, if you enjoyed this story I invite you to try others. Though it develops slowly, "Scenario" is my favorite, and "Tight Whites" is my most read. Love stories both, perhaps worthy of your time.