Ride, Sally, Ride

"Forget the romance! After all, you just gave me a pearl necklace, what could be more romantic than that?" Her words were like a command. The lioness needed to be fucked, and she needed it now. I stood behind her, she reached one hand between her legs to guide me and I buried myself into her in one thrust. "Goddamn that's it! Fuck me, baby." She went from directing me to begging to cooing to sighing as my cock plunged in and out while she braced against the glass. "Come to Momma! Cum in Momma! That's it.....fuck me.....fuck me.....fuck me...."

I grabbed her by the hips and tried to recapture a more athletic time as I thrust my hips in and out as deeply as I could. She grunted with each stroke and sighed occasionally when the strokes must have been to her liking. She shook her head back and forth and her hair spilled over her shoulders like a blonde sea during a storm. The majesty of the mountains, the queer beauty of the city lights and the grunting and cooing of the lioness in charge of this fucking caused a tightness in my chest and a lightness in my head. She must have noticed that I was distracted, though still pumping, because she growled, "Stick with me....I am almost there. Hang in there, and Fuck Me!"

How could I have let m mind wander? I grabbed her mane in my right hand and yanked her head back from the window. With my left, I reached between the hot breast and the cold glass and pawed at her tit and pulled at her left nipple. Her grunts became more urgent. I yanked her hair and she yelled "You Bastard!" I pinched her nipple nearly flat, and she yelled "You Sonofabitch, you are gonna get it!" She continued to thrust back against me and then began to quiver. I could feel the spasms from inside of her, against the hardness of my cock. Her grunts turned to purrs, and then nearly to sobs. Her words had no meaning, but her throat was making sound. Her knees buckled a bit and I held her up at her ribcage. Her legs shook, she gurgled, her pussy stopped quivering, and then I came.

Not in the thick ropy torrents that I laid between her tits, but that second one: the one that burns a bit and makes you feel alive. The one my old girlfriend used to call the "babymaker" even though she was on the pill: a sharp ejaculation, without as many spasms, but one that is wholly satisfying. We both slumped a bit and I could hear a slight break in her voice as she whispered "Thank-you."

I sat on the edge of the bed as she carefully picked up her things. Her lingerie alone must have cost hundreds of dollars. She was unsure of her footing as she disappeared into the bathroom. I put on my boxers, only because I was feeling so damn self-conscious, and finally understood why people smoke after sex. It gives them time to plan their next move. Before I had hatched a plan that I liked, the bathroom door opened, Sally did not look toward me at all, she never said a word, and she was gone. The feelings overwhelmed me. The getting-onto-middle-aged lawyer in me thought this made a tidy conclusion. She was my mother's friend, and I was a married man. The fifteen-year-old inside of me, that I had so cleverly packed and hidden away until three days before, was crying: crying for joy, crying in triumph, crying for loss and crying in fear.