Orion, My Beloved Hunter

She gazed at him with sparkling eyes and an openly lascivious expression of sexual heat. She moved her hips against him, pressing into his body as she stared at him. Quite a show for everyone watching. Quite a heat-up for Hunter.

"Her name is Rachel Jamieson, she is nineteen, and I am certain that she will be both a lovely date for me and a tender, memorable adventure with us both."

"Lady," he said, "I thought the two of you were erotic and arousing. Now I am as hard as a rock, it's all your fault, and I want to thank you for it."

"I love you, Hunter," she replied as she openly rearranged her half-bra under her sweater in front of those nearby, cupped her breasts to settle them into the lacy thing, then finally brushed her nipples to make them stand out.

She moved her chair around the table beside his, and he put his arm around her. Reagan immediately placed his hand on her breast and began squeezing it as the dancing continued. During the next hour they were lost in a small world of their own, whispering within the din of the restaurant around them, drinking one more beer and a cup of coffee, caressing, and kissing.

"Hunter, let's go home now. I need to be with just you and, and...oh, you have no idea how I get hot when you squeeze my breast that way!" She smiled a delicious smile of years and hungers gone by that said, 'Take me, lay waste to me from my soul to my heart to my body.' As he continued fondling both her breasts she began breathing heavily, closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, groaned and then laughed loudly.

"Well, you did it, my sweet Hunter...Orion, the stalker of my soul. I just came and I am soaking. Oh! I am so perfectly wet and I adore it. Your touch and your hands playing with my breasts just burned a gorgeous orgasm out of me, and it's running everywhere inside my pants. I feel alive! I am so hungry for a man that I can hardly sit still. You are that man...oohhh...I am just sloshing between my thighs, I wish you could lick me, drink me, eat me. I hope it shows through my pants. Oh, Lord!"

Hunter stood and collected the beauty he had just undone, then headed for the door. Reagan parted ways with him at the hallway to the ladies' room, then met him shortly thereafter on the front porch of the packed night spot.

"Verdict?" he laughed as he kissed her.

"Oh, heavens, Hunter, I am a perfectly sexy, gooey, flooding mess down there. I came again after I peed, and it's running down my legs. Now I am absolutely soaked with both. Hold on to me because I am so hot, I can't stand very well. You did this delicious thing to me with just your touches. I'm sorry, I just have to sit down for a minute."

Chapter 9

"Need a Little Help?"

Out in the parking lot something was getting started. Hunter's personal motto throughout his adult years, after he had grown a brain and had been graduated from the university, was to keep a low profile in life while standing for his convictions, and then if necessary consider other alternatives. It didn't take him long to realize that this time he might have to consider other alternatives.

Along the first row of parked vehicles was the handicapped section. In the second slot nearest to the door a middle-age woman and her young teen son were assisting a Downs Syndrome youngster, obviously a family member, in loading his scooter onto the transporter rack that receded into their Toyota mini-van.

Three young men, obviously in their twenties and all of them together having the gathered intellect of a bowl of rice, had left their crew-cab pickup and had gathered around the family trying to load their handicapped son into the van. But true to form with this type of sub-human, there were no offers of help. Instead, the trio had begun grabbing at the mother's chest, one had shoved the teenage son, and the third was picking at the shirt of the handicapped child and yelling, "Hey, retard, talk to us. Show us how happy you are. Kid's a damned retard. There oughta be a law."

"Reagan, stay here. This is going somewhere fast, I'll guarantee it, Princess."

"Hunter, please...be careful!"

Hunter walked casually over to the group as if he had just emerged from the restaurant and said loudly, "Hey, Sherrill, what's up big sister? Need some help?"

The three predators whipped around at this unexpected intrusion. When they saw that there was only one person, they stopped their badgering of the mother and her children and fanned out to wait for Hunter. He was only one, and they were three.

'The problem that these people always have,' he thought, 'is that they believe they can scare everybody by having more numbers...it always seems to take more than one of these clowns.'

They braced Hunter in a triangle with the leader in the center. He would take on Hunter first, and the others would close in from each side. They thought.

"Hi, folks," he said brightly. "Anybody here need a little help?"

"Take a hike, jerkoff," the fearless leader ordered.

"Mmmm, I don't think so. My sister here, good to see you Sherrill...it's been a while...seems to need some help, and I sorta consider myself a helper extraordinaire."

"We don't care what kinda disease you got, your sister's a piece of trash...look at the retard she squirted out...and look at that goofy kid grinning like a potted plant. Yep," and he looked around for agreement, "there oughta be a law against stuff like this screwing up a good parking space. Let's git this fool."

They were expecting Hunter to do some moving around or the typical looking from one to the other while trying to assume some fighting position. Instead, he strode up to the leader and smashed him directly in the face, breaking his nose and bringing a gout of blood. Without wasting effort, he spun to his right since the next target was closer, slanted left, placed his right leg in front of the man as he grabbed his shirt and arm, and slammed him to the asphalt, following up with a wicked kick to his stomach.

All-American man number three kept coming from behind Hunter but had lost a good bit of his steam since his two friends were writhing on the pavement and obviously useless. Hunter turned left, ducking a desperate grab, locked onto the extended right arm of the young man, whirled him in a semi-circle and slammed him headfirst into the side of the van. He bounced as if the side of the Toyota were a trampoline and dropped to the pavement like a felled oak.

"Sherrill," he addressed the woman-who-wasn't-his-sister, "I'm really sorry about the trash we have to put up with every now and then. But, hopefully, you and your family won't have any more difficulty tonight. I see their truck is from out-of-state, anyhow, so they'll be leaving right now. ...Won't you?" he demanded of idiots one, two and three.

"Yeah, you bastard," muttered their still bleeding no-longer-fearless leader as they picked themselves off the warm pavement and staggered toward their truck.

Hunter smiled at the woman and her two sons, wished them a pleasant evening, and climbed the steps to the porch where Reagan waited. She stood and threw her arms about him. "Hunter, I was afraid that with three of them you'd get hurt. What exactly did you just do there?"

The two of them looked around at the small crowd of observers who were smiling and nodding to the couple. Then he took her arm, led her to their truck and drove home.

Chapter 10

Worship of This Moment

After unlocking the cabin and turning up lights, Hunter asked Reagan to sit beside him in the porch swing, a position that gave them a view of the darkened Little River Canyon.

She opened her jacket, leaned inside his left arm and against his chest, and placed his hand on her breast. Neither spoke for a time.

"In case you are wondering, Hunter, I am still wet...when you touched my breast I came again. It was a sweet little rattle between my legs. I hope you are satisfied with my glorious mess between my thighs; I know I am!"

They sat drinking in the night and its sounds. A waning full moon filled the sky and they rested in its pale light. A whippoorwill called over the rise down the road; nearer the cabin the cicadas, 17-year locusts, wound up their wiry racket as if their death were light years away instead of a few short days. At the back of the house Hunter's mockingbird Big Al played every one of its chirps and warbles while bouncing up and down on the peak of the metal roof.

The woman in his arms stirred and sighed, her soft perfume of something Old South and genteel wafting in and out of the night scents of pine, honeysuckle and the odd grapey smell of kudzu. She clasped both his hands to her breasts still covered by the thin sweater, then decided to remove the garment altogether. She sat up and with Hunter's help, pulled it over her head and off her arms, removing her half-bra along with it. Then she sat back in his embrace and replaced his hands on her warm white flesh.

"Ahhh," he sighed almost inaudibly, relishing the full heaviness and weight of her beauties as he looked down over their shape in his hands. Breasts are such gorgeous creations. Men are hard-wired to hunger at the sight of them, the sensuous way they quiver in and out of clothing, their heaviness as they hang suspended from a woman's body when she bends over, the thought of sucking their nipples, preferably plump and longer ones, and tasting milk from within the body of their lovers.

Reagan's were large, firm but not so much that they didn't tremble like bowls of custard pudding in her wispy brassieres and when she wore none at all, and magical in the way they comforted him even as they excited him.

"Am I good for you, Darling/" she asked softly. "Do my breasts satisfy your desires and arouse you when you look at me and when you make love to them...like now?"

"You are mysterious magic to my heart, Reagan...my Madison. This time with you here in the quiet and surrounded by these smells is literally ceremonial for me. I don't really know how to explain what the heavy softness of your breasts does to me. It's as if your lovely gifts feed some deep part of me. Touching you and caressing you fills me with satisfaction and brings me rest. I am relaxed, yet I burn for you. And I believe I always will. Yes, my lusty, sensuous woman, you are good for me. Your breasts satisfy my my longings and arouse me when I look at you, when I watch them jiggle, when I constantly look down your tops. They make me want others to see you, too. Tell me, Angel, how do your breasts feel to you?"

"My, aren't you the poetic and perceptive one!" she giggled as she made him thumb her nipples until they stood out like large cherries. "I have never been asked that, and it is a delicious subject. I am so in love with my breasts, and I know you understand what I mean. I am always aware of them as they brush my arms, as I look down over my chest and see how large they are and how my nipples press out. I do touch and play with them during a day, Hunter, and it excites me. A lot of women do this. You men may not see us but large or small, we really enjoy these beauties on our chests."

"What do they feel like? Do you ever get tired of carrying around that weight? Because, honeh," and his voice became deep and accentuated, "you got some real weight in those big babies! Holey Moley."

She chuckled and squeezed his hands appreciatively. "I am so thankful that you admire and enjoy them. They are yours, Hunter. You may not believe this, but you are free to grasp them, hold them, play with them anywhere you want to, I don't care where we are or who we are talking to. I truly believe that one of the most sensuous things you could do with me is to be with friends, and to open my blouse, remove my breasts completely and play with me. OH!

"Uh...oh, I'm sorry. Saying that gets me steamy...Lord, Hunter! Oooo...Oh, wow! Here I go again...just talking like this to you made me come. Maybe I need to get these pants off and just sit here naked having orgasms with you. Your touch, saying erotic things to you, touching you and myself all fire me up, I'm going to have to take a cold shower tonight just to be able to sleep at all."

"Now, Reagan, honey, I certainly don't want to tire you out or use you up," he intoned sanctimoniously in his best southern-accented Big Daddy voice.

"Yeah...right!" she laughed, then continued.

"Oh, all right...they feel very heavy and comforting to me. I have actually sat in offices and stood in lines and touched my breasts, squeezed them, and even removed them from my top to expose them. Those times are so exciting. To me my breasts are a source of sensation, arousal, sweet desire...of...of comfort. I have even brought them up to my mouth and sucked my nipples. You should see the reactions to that. And Hunter, darling, you cannot possibly tire me out or use me up. I am enough for you for a lifetime."

Her blue eyes with the long lashes bored into him. "I am yours. All that I am and hope to be and believe are yours."

She stood momentarily as he slid to the other end of the swing, then she lay lengthwise with her head in his lap. He stroked her neck, then her tummy, kissed her, and resumed fondling her breasts. Once more silence covered them like a velvet cloak as the scents and sounds of the night closed in. They and the creation seemed at peace on this now-warm late summer evening. The storm and chilly weather had passed quickly, his woman still had a small bit of fever, but she was comfortable and they could almost tangibly feel each other becoming one person in body and soul.

"I've never seen anything like what you did tonight. I admire you for it, Hunter. But what on earth happened?"

"Reagan, two things in life make me truly angry. One is the torment by someone strong of others weaker or more defenseless than themselves, usually just because they can get away with it. Your previous husband and the events back at the Grassroots fit into that category.

"The second is seeing someone who desperately needs help, with others who could do so instead standing around watching and doing nothing, or laughing...or even worse, just indifferent. One day not long ago, I saw a man with paralyzed legs who had to use a scooter accidentally turn over on the sidewalk. Three older teenagers saw it happen and just stood there watching him. As if he were some sort of squirming insect. I wheeled my truck out of traffic and to the curb and helped him. It was all I could do not to beat each one of those low lifes."

She felt something tremble in him. "Why do these so infuriate you, my lover who seems to be far older than his years appear?"

Hunter was quiet for a long moment, then he explained, "Because it cuts the heart out of what is necessary for a decent nation to exist, because it is dishonorable in the deepest sense of the word 'honor', and because it is just plain ugly. When someone needs help, you offer it...you don't laugh at their misery and worsen it."

In the travel of his hands over her warm flesh, Hunter realized that she needed a cover; he reached down beside the swing and gathered up a small afghan which he pulled over her. She stared at him, then said softly, "You are kind, Hunter, and your love opens my entire being to all that you want to do for and to me. Yet beside that gentleness I sense in you a deep strength and a great danger. The strength emerges in your self-control, the way you move, your grace and finesse and beliefs. The danger is tightly bound, you beautiful Orion, Hunter of my soul, until it breaks out for a worthy cause. There have been no men in my life like you. Not ever."

Neither had anyone ever complimented him as she just did. It silenced him.

"You don't have to answer. I love you in a way that makes me weak with longing and strong with commitment to you. You make me feel secure in a fashion that I could not buy with money. What ever did I do to deserve you?"

"I hope your former husband never appears around us, Reagan. He deliberately hurt you. I swear to you, I'll change his life forever. Now you are mine to love and worship and protect."

There in his arms as he talked softly she nevertheless sensed in him something lurking in the shadows, something of great size and incredible strength that moved, something in that quiet night that stood watch over her. It did not frighten her; rather, she called to mind one of those medieval-style pictures of a huge dragon bearing a generously-endowed woman to protect her from hideous creatures lusting to devour her. She felt like that woman.

Hunter stared down at Reagan. How had all this come to pass...the woman of his dreams and desires now in his arms and he voluntarily responsible for her? He looked out over the valley. This was right, it was beautiful, it bound and restrained him in a way he had desired and could never put into words.

Chapter 11

Once More Before We Leave

At some point that evening he picked up his woman and took her in to bed. They showered together, each washing and drying the other, then they slid between the sheets naked and exhausted. Reagan wriggled into his arms, reached for his shaft to place it between her legs and against her vagina, and slept all night that way. His last recollection was of the scent of her warm flesh and her hair.

Reagan awakened before Hunter, and she lay quietly in his embrace. For the first time in her life she felt safe and adored. She felt his penis, still enlarged though softened, between her thighs and she reached down to touch its crown.

'Hunter, if only you knew how truly beautiful are your stem and your balls. I know you guys kid about it, and you never stop to think about what a gorgeous, delicious gift you have. To me yours is exciting and immediately arousing. It is often soft, yet it is shaped so perfectly. I love its exposed head, the way it is all bare and so sensuous when you are hard and you walk. The sight of a luscious, hard, erect cock creates a desire to touch it, to hold it, even to devour it.

'You men can't expose yourselves the way we women can except in certain locations and in private. But if I had that gorgeous, delicious, hard, swollen shaft and your pretty round balls, I couldn't keep my hands off them. I'd have to work from home and be naked all the time. I would wear it out making love to it. And you'd better believe I would eat every bit of cream it produced!'

She didn't realize that her voice had risen from being a series of quiet personal thoughts to a strong statement voiced aloud in no uncertain terms. Without moving, Hunter had heard her last two remarks and said from behind her, "Really, now. You are that hungry at this hour of the day?"

"Ooops," she laughed as she turned over and faced him. "How much did you hear, you sly man?"

"The parts about you having to work from home, wearing out your cock making love to it and eating your cum."

"Well, does that bother you to know that I am enthralled at the sight of that lovely rod and your balls?"

"Nope, not at all. It is quite erotic to wake up in the morning and hear you discussing to yourself what you would do if you had my equipment. I am so thankful that you enjoy it. It's pretty much all I've got."

"Hunter, you are traveling my inner highways at an amazing rate. What you do to me when you enter between my legs and from behind is indescribably scenic, beautiful, sensuously possessive. Yes, dear one, if I had your cock I'd do just what I said. So there!" she announced triumphantly with a full, bright, throaty laugh.

He stared at her for a moment too long. "You aren't..., oh, Hunter...you are. Oh, heavens, how do you get so big this quickly! There, yes, right there, now slide in all the way. OH, LORD! You...you...how do you do this gorgeous thing to me?"