Night of the Himbo Ch. 04

After a while, her purrs became deeper and more urgent. He looked at her and saw her staring back beneath slitted eyelids. On impulse, he pulled her foot to his lips and laid a gentle kiss on the arch. Her breath caught. He licked the arch and she let it out in a sigh, still looking at him. He kissed a little higher, the ankle, the calf, and her smile widened. He traced his fingers slowly up her leg, following with his mouth, kissing, licking, taking it slowly. She lay still, eyes closed, but her hand clawed at the bedsheet as he moved up and up, and as he reached her knee, from the depths of her red skirts, he smelled her arousal.

Her smell was a shock of heat, a circuit closing between her body and his, her cunt and his cock. He fought not to grab and thrust; he took her thigh and licked long and strong up from her knee to her groin, nibbling and nipping at her scented flesh, as she let out a warbling cry of pleasure above him. She shifted her body, widening her legs, opening herself to him as he dove into the layers of red cloth, seeking her pussy until he found it nestled in her skirts like the dark core at the heart of a poppy, black hair glistening with moisture.

He dove in with his tongue, piercing her lower lips. He heard her cry out and felt her thighs clench his ears. He moved to the outer lips, licking slow but firm, and then inside again, more gently, patiently, judging from her thighs clenching and loosening where he needed to be, what he needed to touch, to bring her closer, and closer. He extended one finger into her pussy as he licked, then two, seeking that rough, spongy area within as his tongue nudged her clitoris. He found it, stroked it gently, and she gave an almost voiceless cry as her legs went rigid over his shoulders and her musk sharpened around him.

When she finally relaxed with a sigh, he sent his hands through her skirts and up her blouse, looking for the snaps and buttons to take them all off. He felt her hand on his forearm.

"No," she said. "Leave my blouse. Please."

"But I want to feel all of you," he said.

"Please," she repeated.

"Well sure. I want what you want." She grabbed his head, pulled him up, and kissed him fiercely, gratefully.

"Lie back," she whispered into his neck. He rolled over onto the bed. She pulled the blankets over them both and turned off the light. The room filled with starlight and she rose above him on her knees.

"You are so beautiful," she said, running her hands over his chest. "Close your eyes."

He did, and he felt her hands on his shoulders, followed by her breath, her lips, her tongue, slowly tracing their way downward, stopping here and there to kiss, to lick a nipple, to tug with her teeth just a little bit lower. It was slow, methodical, agonizing. When she got to his belly button, he flinched.

"Ticklish?" she giggled, and then licked her way all around it. Then her hands found his cock, a rock-hard pillar of flesh. "Dios," she breathed. He felt both her hands on it, one above the other, rubbing him off slowly in tiny movements, up and down, up and down, somewhere between a tug and a caress. He felt her lips on it, then her tongue, a long, steady lick up the underside, then the head, circling, then under the helmet, then the head again. Her lips opened around him, just managing to take him all in. He whimpered.

"Don't hold back," she said. "You're mine tonight." Then she put him back in her mouth, sucking slowly, agonizingly, while her hands gently rubbed his shaft.

She was coaxing lava from a volcano. The feeling rose from his pelvis, his belly, his balls, swelling in power. "I'm- it's-" he couldn't finish the sentence. The pleasure was centered in his cock, but it was everywhere in his body now as she kept licking and rubbing, and it was growing and growing and swelling up his cock and he was-

She gulped his first spurt, the second overflowed and dribbled down her chin, and then she just aimed so the other blasts shot across his belly and chest as she held his cock in both hands, pumping it.

After the last dribble, she crawled back up to the pillows and lay down next to him, her right hand still gently pumping and stroking.

"I like this," she said lazily. "When I have you in my hand. It's like holding the reins for a horse." Her hand crept down to cup his balls. "A stallion."

He laughed.

"Is it too sensitive-" she started to ask, then said "Oh," as she felt him rise and harden in her hand. "Oh, yes," she said. "Now. Now." She repositioned herself on her back, legs wide, exposed to him. "Take me now," she said.

He rose above her on his knees, his semen cooling on his chest, and positioned his throbbing cock at her entrance. "How-"

"Now!" she ordered him, and he thrust into her. She was wet, and warm, and she took all of him. "Now gentle, gentle..." He slowed. "I am sorry, querido, I have to be a little careful this days."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "This is perfect." He thrust in and pulled out, and the next time she rose to meet him. They established a rhythm, all the more erotic because it wasn't quick, but rather deliberate and focused, cooperative, communicating through their hips and bellies and groins, building over time, growing more and more intense. Until her breath came fast and shallow, and her hands clutched his arms, his shoulders, pulling him closer to her still-covered chest, and she cried out and they came together.

"Don't move," she said, as he shrank slowly from her pussy, their fluids soaking into the sheets. "Just stay. Hold me." He did.

When he woke up, she was gone and he was Mike again. This time though, he remembered everything. There was no longer any doubt. He was Mike, but he had been Roy. Everything Alice had told him was true.

He lay there for a minute, his eyelids like sandpaper when he blinked, his tongue coated and dry. Finally he stumbled to his feet and got into the shower, letting the hot water soak into his aching muscles. As he wrapped himself in the thick guest robe, there was a knock on the door. "Breakfast!" chirped a voice outside. When he opened the door, he found a tray on the mat, smelling like heaven. He set it on the table by the window and pulled off the steam cover: a Denver omelet, bacon, hashbrowns, waffles, orange juice- suddenly he was ravenous. He wolfed it down while watching the ocean below. Delicious.

Below the plate was a note. Handwritten, it said only Thank you.

He sat for a while, digesting, letting the food and juice and water soak through him to cut the post-Roy fatigue and soreness - with the help of another mini-bar whiskey bottle and a couple of aspirin. When he felt fully human, he packed and made his way slowly down the hill with his suitcase.

Connie was behind the main desk again, wearing a brown blazer and silver scarf. Mike almost leaned in for kiss, but Connie's face was a professionally friendly mask. He stopped.

"Uh, good morning," he said.

"You too," she said, casually. "Sleep well?"

You should know, he didn't say. "Yes, it's a great cabin."

She smiled. "I told you. Mom gave you the best." She took his key. "Don't worry about breakfast or the mini-bar," she said. "You're comped."

Mike nodded. "Um, where is your mom?" he asked. "My friend Alice wanted me to say 'hi.'"

Connie's smile flickered slightly. "She slept in today. Usually she's up before the birds, but her daily schedule's a little off since she got back from the hospital."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I hope she's all right."

"She will be. Recovery just takes time."

He wanted to say more, but Connie's vibe said, clear as words, that she was done. Mike signed out and walked to his car. As he pulled out onto the gravel road, he saw a figure on the porch. Short, wide, older -- it had to be Lisa Galvan. She was definitely the woman in the picture Alice had given him, but her smile transformed her face, lighting it up, making her seem years younger, almost a twin of her daughter.

She waved farewell and walked inside. As Mike exited onto the Pacific Coast Highway, he realized something: Connie's hair had been cut short, but Lisa's had been in a long braid that reached down her back...like the woman who had visited him the night before.

He chewed on that all the way back to LA.