Southern Comfort Ch. 01

"What do you want to know?" I asked uneasily.

"Well, for one thing why didn't you tell me?" he asked sounding baffled.

"I didn't really think it would become an issue," I replied.

"Oh, you mean, because I can't make love to you, it wouldn't have ever come up?" he asked. I nodded again. "Well, have you...I mean, it wasn't always a problem was it? You have been able to before?" he stumbled over the next question.

"Yeah, twice," I said sullenly.

"Then what happened?" he asked. "Have you talked to anyone about it?"

"It's the same story as with you. I've talked to doctors. They just blow me off. They don't have any answers," I answered bitterly. "My sex life has never been right."

"How long has it been?" he asked quietly.

"I've always had problems, but it got worse a few months before I got pregnant with my oldest kid." I kept my answers short and sweet. I didn't explain other events that had taken place about the same time. Perhaps, I should have. For the moment, I simply chose not to discuss any of the events from my past.

"Then this has been going on that long?" he asked. I nodded. I heard him suck in his breath and sigh. "My god! And I thought I was the only one." He paused and then asked, "What about with Roger or the kid you were dating?" I shook my head.

"No, none of them. I could give you a long list, if that's what you'd like to hear," I snipped.

"No. That isn't what I meant. I was just thinking that maybe..." he began.

"You were just thinking that maybe it was their fault? That maybe they just didn't know what they were doing? Or didn't care?" I suggested.

"Something like that," he said frowning.

"No, Jon. They have a name for it, several, in fact. Cold. Frigid. Damaged goods. Take your pick. None of them are very flattering," I said as I started to cry out of frustration.

"Hey, hey, now! Don't do that. Don't cry!" he said gently. He lifted my face with his fingertips and kissed me. The kiss turned long, and he rolled me off him and leaned over me, kissing me, petting me.

After a moment, he broached the subject again. "You said you've always had problems. Why?" he asked.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," I answered sullenly, looking away.

"I'll believe you. Tell me," he urged.

"It would be a lot easier for you to understand if I could show you, but that isn't going to happen," I said. He looked almost hurt by my words. I sighed in more frustration. "Give me your hand," I said solemnly.

He hesitated a moment looking confused. He put his hand in mine and I slid it between my legs. A moment later, he looked at me in shock. He was unable to penetrate me with even one finger.

"Are you beginning to get the picture now?" I asked sarcastically. "It has its drawbacks," I said testily.

"Yeah, but there could be several reasons. You're not wet," he pointed out.

"Well, it's a little difficult to get excited when someone is hurting you," I snapped. "There are only a few ways that I can even manage to have sex with a man. Most men tend to get rather bored with it after awhile. Most men find it's more effort than it's worth."

He stared down at me a moment and I could see that he was at least beginning to understand. He kissed me with great care. I enjoyed kissing him and I relaxed in his arms. The more relaxed I became, the more passionate and demanding his kisses were.

He lifted his head and growled in a low voice, "Aw, fuck! Notnow!"

"What's the matter?" I asked. His distress was readily apparent and I had no clue what prompted it.

"You aren't going to believe this, but I've got a raging fucking hard-on. Of all the times for that to happen," he said shaking his head in dismay.

"Do you really?"

"You tell me," he said. He nudged his penis against my thigh.

"Yep! That's what that is," I giggled. "So, that's a good sign, right?" I asked giving him a hopeful look.

"No, that isn't good," he frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because if I try to make love to you now, it'll be like I'm trying to do the same thing I accused all those other girls of doing to me. Trying to 'fix' things for you. I know how that feels. I won't do that to you," he said shaking his head. "Especially if you don't enjoy it," he added.

"Do you think maybe we could forget all of that, and just see what happens?" I asked tentatively.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Is that what you want?" Jon seemed surprised by my request. Maybe he was simply waiting for me to ask him to make love to me. He didn't have a very long wait.

"I'm sure," I said stroking my fingers through his hair. "Kiss me again. I love it when you kiss me."

His lips were soft when they covered mine. Our tongues met and entwined. I felt a flush of excitement creeping through my body and I shivered as I always did when he touched me. He moved his lips lower and kissed the side of my neck while one palm covered my breast. His touch was so gentle that I felt my nipples instantly spring to life.

He worked his way downward, kissing and licking every inch of my body, even the palms of my hands and the soft underside of my wrists. The warmth of his breath and his tongue brought about pleasure I had never even imagined possible. No other man had ever taken such great pains to ensure my pleasure. Every sensation was new to me and I heard myself beginning to moan.

He slid downward between my thighs and kissed the insides of them. He was insistent when he spread them wider and paused to peer at my open lips. He lowered his head and made a slow upward stroke with his tongue. I had always enjoyed receiving oral sex from men, even if I didn't usually orgasm. With Jon, sex was somehow different.

My hands instinctively went to his shoulders and I wasn't sure if my intention was to push him away, or draw him nearer. I was afraid, both of keeping him at a distance, and of sharing any meaningful intimacy with him. I valued him in a way I had no other man. Losing him was my greatest fear.

He slid his hands under my hips, cupping both cheeks of my ass, and supporting my weight in midair. I could feel my heart skip several beats as he used the thickest part of his tongue to massage my clit from below. When I responded with a soft moan of pleasure, he lightly gripped it between his teeth and nudged more insistently.

I lost my breath for an instant and was overwhelmed by panic. My response was to try to get away, to escape somehow. But, he had me well within his control, and all my twisting and turning away from him served no useful purpose. He used his tongue to resolve my conflicting emotions.

There was no force involved. I chose to passively surrender to his terms. Jon wouldn't allow me to simply stand outside the fire. He insisted I step within the flames and be completely consumed by it. I was his fallen angel and he performed a baptism by fire. I spread my wings and experienced my first real freedom from chains.

I was lifted upwards, as if I was ascending to heaven at some great speed, far above the real world and anything in it that was tangible or recognizable. The breath left my body in a rush of excitement. For a moment, I burned brighter than any star in the night sky. When I came crashing back to earth, one hand was pressed palm to palm with his and our fingers were interlaced. I'm not sure who was holding whose hand, but I do know he used his grip to prevent me from pushing him away.

When I went limp again, I could hear him chuckling very softly between my thighs. I didn't simply image the tone of self-satisfaction in his amusement. He was celebrating his victory while I was recovering from it. For a moment, I wasn't completely sure I would recover.

He disentangled himself from me and climbed along side me, plumping up pillows before he made himself comfortable. He was partially reclined against the headboard and half sitting up. I made the erroneous assumption that he was taking a momentary break. "Come here," he commanded. I climbed to all fours and crawled over a few inches to him.

"Where?" I asked.

"Get on top," he said as he reached out to me. I'd tried that position a few times and found it not to my liking, but some men seemed to enjoy it. I was willing if it would please him. I was about to swing one leg over him when he stopped me. He shook his head and made a motion with his hand.

"Uh-uh. Turn around and get on top," he said with a devilish grin.

"Jon, that's too much like doggie. I can't do doggie," I informed him.

"Because it hurts?" he asked. I nodded. He gave me another lopsided smile and made the same motion with his hand indicating for me to mount him in reverse. "It isn't the same thing," he informed me. "Just do what I'm telling you, please."

I was reluctant, but I decided we would have to find out from experience what would or wouldn't work, so I did as he requested. I swung my leg over his lap and settled on top of him.

"God, I love your hair," he sighed from over my shoulder. "Have I ever told you that before?" His fingers were already wrapped in the blanket of hair that fell around my hips. He pulled me back against his chest and began kissing and nibbling at the tops of my shoulders. His hands traveled around to my breasts and lingered there for a while, teasing my nipples hard again.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight once more. I could feel his breath against my ear when he whispered, "We're going to do this slow and easy. You're on top so you have all the control now. It's up to you, baby. I'm not going to fuck you. You're going to fuck me, so just trust me, okay?"

I sighed and nodded. He leaned back against the pillows and began stroking my back to encourage me to remain relaxed. I could feel his penis, still amazingly hard, resting between the lips of my pussy. I shifted my weight and slid myself slowly down the length of his penis. It twitched happily in response. His cock was much longer than I had imagined having only seen its flaccid state before now.

I made several long slow passes up and down, bathing the entire length with my cum before I summoned the courage to attempt to take him inside me. I rose up on my knees and Jon took that as his cue to offer some assistance by holding his penis upright and steady. I positioned myself so the angle felt agreeable and began to lower myself until I felt him slip inside me. There was no feeling of discomfort, but rather an unexpected mild pleasure.

He let out a long breath and took his hand away so there was nothing obstructing my progress. I moved only slightly, taking the tiniest bit more inside. He clamped his fingers on my hips and his nails dug into my flesh. I paused allowing us both to adjust to new sensations.

When his grip relaxed, I began a second descent, this time taking almost half the length of him. It was several minutes before I could call myself having accommodated him completely. I could hear him panting from over my shoulder.

"I can't tell you how good that feels," he groaned. "Why did you stop? Are you okay?" he asked with concern when I made no further attempt to move.

I hesitated to answer. "Well, this is usually about the time when I hear, 'Don't move!' Would you like me to be still, or do you want me to continue?" I asked.

Jon was silent for a moment, contemplating my vague explanation. I could tell he was debating how to best respond. He found his voice after a moment and asked, "Are you telling me that you don't usually move when you're having intercourse with a man?"

"I try not to," I replied with a serious tone. "They all say the same thing. They don't want me to move. It makes them cum right away."

I felt him began to shake with laughter. "Stop it, Jon!" I hissed at him with irritation. "What do you want me to do? Be still, or move?" I snapped sharply.

He grew silent at my annoyance and cleared his throat before answering. "I wasn't laughing at you, Cindy. I was laughing at the stupidity of men, or should I say 'boys', in general," he said gently. "To answer your question, yes, I do want you to move. There isn't as much pleasure otherwise. Would you like for me to show you how?" he offered.

"If you think it would help, by all means," I answered sarcastically.

"Okay. I can do that. Lean forward just a little and balance yourself with your hands against my thighs if you need to," he instructed. "You told me you liked riding horses, didn't you?" he asked. I nodded still struggling with the awkwardness of maintaining my balance.

"It's just like riding a horse," he declared. "Just close your eyes and move with me," he said. He gripped my hip with his right hand and grabbed a handful of hair in his left. Despite my position of being on top of him, I had the distinct impression that I was the one being ridden. We were moving together with him doing all the guiding.

I had to admit, it was much more pleasurable than lying still while a man made a few hard thrusts and then proclaimed himself finished. I was enjoying the ride a great deal more than I had expected I would. I felt the first signs of his impending orgasm when he tightened his grip on my hip and increased the pace.

He tugged at my hair so hard that my head went back and all I could do was continue grinding my ass against his pelvis. It was enough to cause his penis to swell and I felt him pumping semen inside me. Several moments of silence followed as his cock gradually went limp and I was able to extricate myself from his grip. I stretched out beside him relieving the ache in my leg muscles.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," he announced as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me with curiosity. "Would you like a cigarette?" he offered. I nodded, eager to take a break. "How about a drink to go with it?" he suggested.

"That sounds good to me," I admitted.

"Good! Then, you go make the coffee!" he chuckled as he passed me a lit cigarette. A few minutes later, I returned from the kitchen bearing fresh coffee laced with Irish whiskey.

My absence had given him time to think. He was in a rather serious frame of mind when I settled back on the pillow beside him. "Can we talk a minute?" he asked.

"Sure! About what?" I countered.

"Us. Everything in general," he shrugged. "At the risk of sounding like a complete idiot, are you on the pill?" he inquired.

I shook my head. "No, I'm not." I thought I'd play with him for a moment.

"Oh, that's about the best news I've heard all day," he retorted. "You're kidding, right?"

"No, I'm not kidding, Jon, but you can get the 'deer caught in headlights' look out of your eyes. According to the doctor, I can't get pregnant, so you can relax," I snorted with contempt. "You should have thought about asking that question a couple of weeks ago," I chastised him.

"Yeah, I probably should have, but it didn't seem like it was going to be an issue at the time," he shrugged throwing my own words back at me. "Now, what do you mean you can't get pregnant? You have two kids."

"Yep! And, I would have had a third in about two months had I not gotten an abortion last fall," I replied.

He squinted his eyes at me for a moment. "Okay, you're going to have to explain that to me, if you don't mind," he said quietly. Jon was Catholic by heritage. Abortion was unforgivable even to his more liberal way of thinking.

"I don't mind explaining, but would you mind if I skip the intimate details?" I quipped. He shook his head and peered curiously at me.

"I went on vacation with my mom and the kids last summer. Roger didn't seem to think I needed to stay on birth control while I was gone. I tried to tell him that isn't something you just take now and then, but he wouldn't listen. So, when he came down to pick me up, I got knocked up," I explained with an air of detachment.

"I wasn't divorced, and he was scared what my first husband might do if he found out. So, he insisted I abort the baby," I said with a sigh.

"Anyway, I was told that my uterus looks like a battlefield. The doctor said there's no place that an egg could attach itself and that the odds of me conceiving again are about zero. He also said that if I should get pregnant, I'd miscarry in the first trimester. That part, he gave me a money back guarantee on," I said rolling my eyes. "Do you feel better now?"

"Some," he shrugged. "I'm not fond of using rubbers."

"Neither am I. I'm allergic to them," I replied. "I'm also allergic to semen. Can you believe that?" I said laughing at the irony.

"Seriously?" he asked sounding surprised. I nodded in earnest. "What does it do to you?"

"If it gets on my skin, I break out in red itchy blotches!" I giggled. "I'm also allergic to cats, pollen, and molds."

"I'm not sure I understand the semen thing," he said with a frown. "How can you have sex if you're allergic to it?"

"I take a lot of showers, and I avoid swallowing it," I said.

"Well, we can take a shower in a minute. We probably could use one," he chuckled. "But, how do you avoid swallowing semen? You don't give head?"

"Sure, I give head. I just keep a towel handy and spit it out. No one has complained yet, " I replied.

"I'll have to remember that. Memo to self, keep one towel handy at all times," he teased with a wink. "Are you ready for that shower?" he asked. "It's getting late and I want to fool around some more."

"You mean you didn't get enough?" I giggled.

"Are you kidding me? I could never get enough, especially of you. And, besides, after three years of famine, I'm going to enjoy this feast as long as it lasts," he declared with a laugh.

"I have a question for you though," he said thoughtfully. "Did you enjoy what we were doing, or were you just trying to please me tonight? Be honest now."

"I guess it's a little of both," I replied. "I enjoy making you happy, and it felt good. I'm just not sure I could ever orgasm being on top, though."

"At the risk of sounding terribly conceited, I don't know who you have been having sex with up until now, but I can tell you this much. There's nothing wrong with you, Cindy. You're a perfectly normal young woman. A little tight, maybe," he admitted with a grin.

He began to laugh. "Okay, a lot tight. You just need a man who knows what he's doing to make it more pleasurable for you. There's absolutely no reason that having sex should cause you one ounce of pain, honey," he said. He patted my head as a display of affection.

"Now, if you'll just follow me into the bathroom, I'll give you another reason to need a shower," he said with a grin.

By the time sunlight filtered through the blinds, I was begging him to stop. It was the first time in my life a man brought me to orgasm more than once and it was the first time I left a man's bed feeling remotely satisfied. I was more than just satisfied. The physical part of our relationship was just icing on the cake. I loved him. If I didn't before, I certainly did by that point.

In fact, there was virtually nothing about Jon I didn't love. He was so easy to love. From his quiet, gentle nature, and his fiery temperament, to his sarcasm and quick wit, I loved everything about him. I loved his patience, and even his rare occasions of moodiness.

I loved the way his eyes sparkled when he was amused, and the way they burned like flames when he was sexually aroused. He could make me want him just by looking at me with those eyes. His smile was infectious and he could turn my mood from dark and dismal to light and carefree with just a silly grin. I loved the smell of him, and the way his skin felt against mine. But, mostly I loved the way he made love to me. Jon was a generous and gifted lover. It seemed together, we were the cure for whatever ailed us both.

That night, Jon and I formed a bond that was virtually unshakable. Yes, technically, we were engaged in an illicit affair, but it went much deeper than that. We were friends, lovers, and a refuge for one another. We had our disagreements, but they were few and we always managed to settle them quickly. Time was the only thing we needed for our relationship to grow.