Rebuilding Faith Ch. 06

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Mr. Moody is the bus.
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Part 6 of the 14 part series

Updated 10/26/2022
Created 02/26/2006
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wilderness
wilderness
220 Followers

As Faith lay basking in the orgasmic afterglow, she thought, 'This is one of those rare moments when reality exceeds your fantasy.' Turning onto her side and propping her head on her hand, She met the eyes of her grinning lover. 'Was it only yesterday I was thinking how nice it would be just to spend time flirting with him?'

An old Rolling Stone's tune popped into her head and she sang softly, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you neeed."

Bill turned onto his side and mirrored her relaxed pose. His dark eyes wandered pleasantly over her skin. It made her tingle, when he said, "What did you want?"

"I forget," she lied, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling and wonder, 'what's next?'

Bill's movement made Faith curious and she shifted to watch him remove the flooded rubber. Apologetically, she said, "Sorry little guys, but I can't have you swimming up my stream to spawn."

After setting the condom on his briefs, he leaned over her, his damp penis resting lightly against her thigh. "There are no swimmers, Faith. I had a vasectomy eight years ago."

Smiling warmly, she arched her brows, and said, "Really... well, we may have to try this again, without the safety net," and pulled him down into a lingering kiss. Then added the comment, "That is, if you're still interested."

His tantalizing hand caressed between her thighs and cupped her sex, as his lips landed on a nipple, drawing it in to a wiggling tongue. The wanton desire she felt inside, and something growing against her leg, gave a positive response.

Bill lifted his head. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

Bill sat up cross-legged and leaned forward, with elbows resting on his knees. Languidly, he ran his fingertips back and forth on the front of her hip, while staring blankly into the fire.

At first, she thought he was joking, and then there was a burst of fear that she'd been unsatisfying or, even worse, simply used. But his loving touch pushed away those concerns and was replaced by a concern for his emotional well-being. Quietly she waited, enjoying the warmth from the hearth and his caress, while observing the new man in her life. His black hair, sprinkled with gray, gave him a mature presence, hiding the big kid inside. The recently eager, full lips had compressed into a hard line. 'What is he thinking about?'

'Let him think,' she decided, as her eyes wander over the broad shoulders, down the slightly haired, deeply cleft, chest. His arms, even at rest, appeared powerful and she relished the safety she felt in his company. 'When will this enchantment end?'

Faith was eyeing his legs, when from above she heard, "Maybe we need to slow down. I'm missing something--"

The sudden ring of the telephone startled them both.

Faith sat up, as Bill walked over to the end table and, smiling playfully, tossed the cordless phone to her.

"Thank you, Mr. Moody," she scolded as he turned away.

He gave her a sidelong glance, and she stuck out her tongue.

Faith watched him walk to the stairs. His back was nicely muscled and the contour undulated with the sway of his arms. The firm buttocks alternated clenches with each stride. There was a slight roll above the hips where age was settling in.

'He's human after all,' she thought.

The persistent ring finally regained her attention. Faith clicked the talk button, and mumbled, "Hello," while concentrating on the nude ascending the staircase.

"Hello, Faith?"

The annoyed tone snapped her focus back to the caller. "Yes, speaking."

"Faith, this is Bob Engles."

"Oh... hi, Bob." Suddenly feeling exposed to the world, Faith began to dress, with a growing uneasiness in her stomach. "How are you?"

"I'm very upset, Faith. I've heard a rumor that you're selling your land to an outsider. Is that true?" His irritated volume made her hold the receiver a few inches away from her ear.

Warily, Faith asked, "Where did you hear that?" trying to be evasive, while thinking about the best way to proceed. The phone line was quiet long enough to know the question had flustered him.

Sounding intentionally vague, he answered, "Some people were talking, and I just overheard them."

Deciding another strand of misinformation may speed the detective process along, Faith boldly said, "Well, it's true Bob. A friend of mine, who's a contractor, wants to develop the land. And considering how uncooperative the town has been during my recent setback, I'm selling out to the highest bidder. I have to think of my family's welfare." Snapping her suspenders closed, she thought, 'That ought to get him worked up.'

Another extended silence, and then, "How much is he offering?"

Unaware of current property values and not wanting to sound ridiculous, she answered, "Thirty percent higher than the assessed value."

The connection began to crackle with static, as Bob's angry voice demanded, "Don't you dare sell to anyone but..." then the line went dead.

"Bob? Helloooo... Hmm." Clicking off the phone, Faith sat down to think things over, until the creaky top stair shifted her interest. Flexing calves and thighs appeared and then white cotton briefs. "Awww," she groaned, initially disappointed, but, as his torso became visible, her expectations were somewhat fulfilled.

"Who was that?" Bill asked, smiling as he strolled over -- seemingly in a lighter mood than when he left.

Not wanting to dispirit him, she answered, "Just a neighbor." And then, before he could make anymore inquiries, she added, "The phone went dead again. Lets go for a walk and check the telephone line down to the road."

Bill bent down, resting his weight on the arms of the chair, and pecked her lips. His breath had the fresh scent of toothpaste and her essence was gone from his skin.

A little sadness crept in with the awareness of how quickly she'd been washed away.

Hovering close, his happy eyes looked down her bib. "Are you going dressed like this?" he asked, then stood back and held out a helping hand.

"In your dreams, Holder," she answered, taking his hand and enjoyed the ease of rising to her feet and being held close.

Hugging Bill tight, her face pressed against his shoulder, Faith decided the next move should be his. 'If he wants to slow things down -- so be it. He knows I'm ready and willing.'

His grip slackened so Faith moved away and headed upstairs to dress appropriately. When she returned, Bill was already outside, Hershey was barking and she heard the word "Fetch."

Grabbing a green plaid jacket from the closet, she spied an old straw hat on the shelf and, deciding to perpetuate the 'farmer's daughter' image, put it on for effect. As she walked over to him, his broad smile was reassuring. "Are ya ready fer a hike, Mister?" she asked. Bending to pet Hershey, she took the ball and threw it.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Lets git goin' then. The day ain't a gittin' any younger and neither am I."

They walked side by side in the dwindling light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, so she did the same -- resisting the temptation to take his arm. Following the gravel driveway downhill, they chatted about the fresh air and springtime, growing up and raising children. Several Robins bounced around, pecking bugs from the bared grass between the patches of snow, and giving Hershey something different to chase. The telephone poles veered off from the road. So, they had to walk underneath the wires through the woods to continue their inspection.

The recent weather left the earth slick and soft. Not long into the off-road hike Bill's sneakers lost their grip and he found himself sitting in mud. Laughing hysterically, Faith offered a hand up and he pulled her down next to him.

"There! Serves you right," he said, with retaliatory smugness.

"Aw, poor Holder. Did I hurt your feelings?" Faith cooed, tenderly stroking his face with muddy fingers.

"Why you brat!" and he countered with a muddy paw print of his own.

Soon they were caked with a layer of brown muck -- laughing and pointing out certain resemblances to their wallowing relatives in the hog family.

Coming to their cold senses, they got up and continued the quest for downed wire another 100 yards, where they found the phone line ripped from the poles by a dead maple tree that had split and fallen from the weight of the recent snow.

Faith said, "I guess I'll have to drive into the village to report the problem."

"Do you have a chainsaw? I can cut that up for firewood."

The offer surprised her. She'd never been sure how long he intended to stay. It was one thing for him to say he wanted to be there for a while, but this was making a commitment of considerable days, she thought, looking at the size of the tree.

Hesitantly, she said, "Yeah, I have a saw," while gazing at his face for any regret.

Seeming pleased, Bill wrapped his muddy sleeve around her, and pulled her toward home. "Good, I could use some exercise. I'll get started in the morning."

When they reached the gravel road, Faith and Bill began a slow jog in the growing darkness, just to warm up. The fragrant hickory smoke, wafting from the chimney, greeted them a short ways from home.

Slowing to a brisk walk, Faith said, "Mmm, I love that smell. Doesn't it smell warm and inviting?"

There was no answer. In the dimness she could barely make out his steely expression.

Entering the dark kitchen, Faith said, "God, I'm cold and disgusting."

She heard an oink behind her. A disembodied voice said, "I think you're one sexy sow," and a pair of hands began removing her clothes.

Laughing, she reached out and found something resembling wet plaster to peel off him, and called, " sue-eee, here pig, pig, pig."

Stripped down to underwear, they left the filthy rag pile on the floor for Hershey to sniff and draw her own conclusions about what was happening, and once again closed the kitchen door on her.

Stopping at the bottom step, the red glow from the fireplace embers gave Faith a chance to inspect Bill's shadowy countenance before they headed upstairs. It was a grim, mud mask, with eyes fixed on the hearth.

'Something about the fireplace or fire sends him into the twilight zone,' she reasoned, and taking his hand, pulled him away, hoping to provide a more satisfying distraction.

Reaching the top, Faith let go of his hand, and said, "I'm going to take a shower," leaving the, 'Will you join me?' part unsaid, forcibly reminding herself, 'It's his move.'

In a halting, indecisive voice, Bill said, "Okay... I am too."

Separating in the hallway, before the silence became exceedingly awkward, Faith entered the shower in her bedroom and waited. A few minutes later, on the other side of the wall in the main bath, the shower turned on and her water pressure diminished along with her optimism. Head resting against the tile, she muttered, "What is your problem, Holder?"

Scrubbing away the filth with an intensity born of ill-tempered confusion, she completed the job quickly, dressed in a long flannel nightshirt and went downstairs to sit by the remains of the fire. Hershey lay close and she relaxed by rubbing the dog's soft fur with her foot, pretending to read, while thinking about Bill's vacillation.

When the creaking stair signaled his descent, the book was set aside.

Casually walking over and sitting in the opposite chair, he said, "Faith, I really need to do some laundry. Do you have a washing machine I could use?"

Ignoring the request, she asked, "Did I turn you off today, Bill?"

His smile faded, and a serious face said, "No, Faith, just the opposite. I can't remember another time when I was so turned on."

Feeling encouraged, but far from content, she continued with, "It's just that you seem hesitant to initiate..." after a thoughtful pause, she bluntly said, "sex. We seem to have a good thing going here. I like being with you, Holder...But I feel like you're afraid of something. Is it Butch? Because, if you think what he did has affected my psyche and you're trying to be sensitive to some assumed fear I may have, you can stop now. I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable with anything you do. You're not Butch. I like you very much and I trust you." To herself, she thought, 'And I want you to want me,' but didn't dare verbalize that particular ache.

Shifting uneasily in the chair, Bill's brow furrowed as he considered an answer.

Time ticked by -- Faith's frustration increased. 'Is he trying to come up with some kind of excuse?'

"I'm sorry, Faith," Bill said, meeting her gaze, "I have been holding back, but it's not because of you. I'm drawn to you like a moth to," hesitating, he looked unhappy with his choice of words, "a flame." He stood and nervously paced with hands in his pockets. "There is something eating at me. My future is a mysterious black hole and I really don't want to screw up your life with my problems. These nightmares..." his voice trailed off. "I just don't want to be a burden. At the same time, I don't want to leave and I can't stop thinking about you." Finished, Bill flopped down in the chair and covered his face with his hands.

Faith pushed her way onto his lap. Gripping his cheeks between her palms, she said, "Holder, didn't you say women like mysterious men?" His small grin was encouragement enough. "Well you're my man of mystery, and I'm not letting you go until I solve it." Resting her head on his shoulder and placing her arms around his neck, she continued, "Whatever is eating you, share it with me and you'll feel better. Things are never as bad as they seem cooped up inside your head."

His tired voice answered, "There are exceptions to every rule, Faith."

She was prevented from further discourse by his wanton mouth capturing hers and changing the course of events. The arms she longed for, snaked around her back and snuggly cradled her. And there was nothing passive about his kiss. The arousing ardor of his lips spread to his hands, as they began to massage her back. One slid up to stroke her hair as his mouth moved down to nuzzle her neck.

"Oh my," she heard her own breathy voice exclaim, almost involuntarily. This was the feeling she craved. The one that confirmed, 'He wants me as much as I want him.'

"God, I can't remember ever feeling like this," Bill confessed, leaning back to look longingly into her eyes.

Laying her smiling face on his shoulder, Faith burrowed her nose and lips into his neck, and asked, "That's a good feeling, right?"

"The best."

Gentle fingers stroked her cheek during a silent moment of mutual contentment. The jingle of Hershey's tags was followed by her pleading head resting on Faith's leg.

"Looks like someone wants to go out, huh girl?"

Hershey's ears perked up and her tail wagged faster.

"Okay, okay. Then it's bedtime," and Faith looked obliquely at Bill.

"I'm going up right now," he said, and yawned, then brushed his hand down her breast, pausing suggestively when his palm was full.

"I'll be right behind you," she said, dismounting from his lap and swaying to the kitchen, hoping his gaze followed.

After putting Hershey to bed, Faith made her final rounds. She had high hopes, and didn't want to be disturbed later with wondering if she'd forgotten to lock the doors.

Turning to climb the stairs, she spotted Bill sitting on the top step. "What are you doing?"

"Waiting," was all he said.

"I'm sorry, the last bus has already left," she informed him in passing.

"No, you don't understand..."

The sound of creaking wood and patting feet signaled his quick approach, and she squealed with delight as he scooped her up.

"I am the bus," he said, carrying her in his arms to the bed. Laying her gently down and kissing her neck, he said, "Here's your stop."

"How often does this bus come?" she asked, optimistically.

Feeling a chuckle against her throat, "Not often enough," he confessed, lying down between her splayed legs, pressing his mouth to hers with a thrilling urgency.

Arms wrapped around and they rolled over, laughing.

Smiling down at him, she said, "You're a fun ride, Holder."

Bill's insistent hands lifted her flannel nightshirt, until they fondled her naked bottom. "Are you on some anti-underwear campaign I should know about?"

"Yes," she declared, sliding a hand onto his. With a tug, she yelled, "Down with underpants!"

"I'm a Republican," he said, and surprised her with a pillow to the side of the head. "Down with free willies."

Yanking the pillow from his hand, she planted it over his face and slid up to kneel over his biceps. "Holder, you must submit to the will of the people."

A muted, "Never," escaped from underneath.

Faith lifted her nightshirt and bunched it around her waist, before pulling away the pillow. His eyes widened, as she rose up on her knees and suspended her pussy over his face. "Submit to the will of the horny people or be muffled."

Licking his lips, he grinned defiantly, "My lips will never be muffled."

But it was, as Faith lowered to cover his nose and mouth. "Just try and struggle free. I dare you."

And, as he began struggling against the muff of authority, Faith began to feel his indomitable spirit with a hand down his shorts, and decided on terms of surrender. "Let's make love not war."

Turning around, she pushed the disputed pants to his knees and engulfed his growing cock. "Mmmm," she moaned around it, as he pulled her muff back to the negotiating table.

They lay together, nearly coming to terms in a tender give and take of oral influence, until Bill apparently needed a change of venue.

Faith felt her legs lifted. Suddenly, she was twirled onto her back, and the erection popped from her mouth with a loud slurp. "Awww, and I was just about to filibuster."

"No, I was about to fill a mouth," Bill laughed, climbing up between her legs, pulling off the flannel barrier with a little help from his new ally.

"Free at last!" Faith celebrated, as Bill sucked one nipple and tweaked the other. Then, replacing his mouth with the other hand, both nubbins were pleasantly pinched and twirled, while his tangy lips made peace with hers.

Pulling up on the hem of his shirt, she begged, "Holder, take this off. I want to feel your skin against me."

Bill sat back, pulled it off and threw it. Then he stood up between her legs. His head bumped the ceiling and his erection cantilevered out, while he removed the offending underpants from around his ankles.

Feeling the heat rise in her face, she beckoned him with open arms and bent legs. "Come to me my sexy giant," she lewdly invited.

He fell upon her like a starving animal, all mouth and paws.

They tangled up, alternating sweet assaults -- attacking, retreating, but always pleasing.

Finally, nearing the end, Faith begged, "Do me, Baby. I want you now!" And when he rose up, she grabbed his rod, positioned it, and let it slide through her fingers into her clutching warmth. "Yessss," she hissed, wrapping her legs over his back as he began pumping.

On every in-stroke her heels spurred him, encouraging a powerful thrust. She knew by Bill's speed and strength, self-control was waning. Suddenly, his chest pressed against hers, and the surprise of his fingers between them, teasing her clitoris, sent her over the edge.

"I'm coming!" she warned, and was rewarded with a grunted, "Me too," as his hips pounded, feverishly.

They began a loud chorus of male and female howls, until the crisis passed and they lay clutched, hugging and kissing in grateful consummation.

Bill Holder, the miraculous stranger, had somehow found a way into her heart and into her bed. The man of mystery had somehow renewed Faith.

wilderness
wilderness
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