SueFromDenver Ch. 03

[Author's note: Apologies to those who wondered how things were going with Sue and Wes. The thing is, this is actually the first of these stories I ever wrote. Unfortunately, in the course of the move, the original got lost so I'm recreating it, chapter by chapter, here. It's based on a story told to me by a colleague of several years. At least the broad outlines of it are. I know he met his wife in a bar under a circumstance very similar to what I related. The details of the progress of their relationship, of course, are my own invention, but based on what I knew of Ray and Kay, the real couple on which this is based, I imagine I'm pretty damn close to what happened in the real world.

If you are interested in any of my stories, just leave a note in the comments section. I read every one, even comments from those who hate what I write. Occasionally I respond, but I DO read every word.

And if anyone knows how to put italics in this system, DO let me know.

Anyway, let's see how Sue and Wes are doing, shall we?]

Chapter Three

The next two weeks were like that. I was convalescing and Wes was my ever-present comfort. After the first week the swelling in my lip had cleared up and the bruises were starting to fade. After the second I was feeling reasonably human again, probably 90 percent. And still, we were chaste and he was such a perfect gentleman I was starting to wonder if we had gotten too close. I mean, we'd eat together, naked, and I could see his lack of interest in the way he didn't get hard.

Don't get me wrong, it was pleasant enough. He taught me the way around his xBox game collection and I got reasonably proficient at "Call of Duty" although he still beat me whenever we played multiplayer. I read through his eclectic library, working my way through the Tolkein "War of the Ring" books, Sun Tzu's "Art of War," Isaac Asimov's "Chronology of the World," and others. I even did some cooking.

Finally, I had enough.

I greeted him at the door, scrubbed and buffed, my makeup perfect, and naked.

I handed him the beer I had poured into the frozen mug and said, "we need to talk."

"Okay," he said, looking at me under his brows as he took the first drink.

I held his hand and led him to the couch.

"Wes," I said, "I'm all healed up so if you're not interested, well, I guess I'll be moving on."

He grinned.

"Susan," he said, taking a drink and wiping his mouth, "what, in all of the things I've said, in all the things I've done, suggested in any way that I'm not, as you so delicately put it, interested? Tell me what it was and I'll unsay or undo it."

"Well," I said, feeling better now, "I've been spending a lot of time hanging around you, naked. Your hands have touched every square inch of me. But you've never shown any interest."

He laughed at that.

"Susan," he said, "I had a dick in you within two minutes of meeting you. But when I brought you home you were as beat up as Rocky Balboa after a fight. For the first week every time I touched you, you would flinch. And since then, you've seemed pretty uninterested. Now, if you're telling me you're ready, then let me sweep you off your feet."

That was easily the longest single speech I had ever heard him make.

I smiled, and it was a true smile. I could feel it spreading to my eyes.

"I'm ready," I said and barely had the words out when he cradled my knees under one arm, picked me up, and carried me into the bedroom.

For the first time in over three years, I made love rather than just fucking. It was slow and tender as we began. He covered my face with kisses. His hands were light at first and then more demanding as I did not flinch or cry out. He found my breasts and fondled and squeezed and then sucked on nipples so hard they ached.

His fingers gently coaxed my legs apart and then he touched, very light, and brought his finger back to where I could see it, shiny with my nectar. He brushed his finger across his lip and inhaled, deeply. When he kissed me my womanscent was strong and the pheromones got to me. The pressure deep in my belly got worse by an order of magnitude.

He rolled off the bed then, and, holding my eyes, started undressing. He didn't make it a striptease, but he didn't hurry either. We were smiling at each other and I was feeling that ache, deep in my belly growing, the pressure making me want to touch myself.

But I didn't. I just watched.

He took his shirt off. He had a healthy, athletic body. Not a body builder's ridiculous "cut," but the strong body of someone who did physical work for a living. His shoulders were broad and his chest strong. A very light down of hair covered his chest. He was thick around the middle, not fat, but thick and powerful. Definitely a wrestler or a football player, not a distance runner or speed swimmer.

He did that awkward hop from one foot to the other, shedding those cowboy boots he wore and then his socks, making me giggle when he almost fell. He was grinning himself as he unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans that did good things for his ass and pushed them down. He turned his back then, wiggling a little, as he pushed down the boxers he still wore, and then he turned, slowly, dramatically.

"Still think I'm not interested?" he said.

I smiled and looked.

"No, baby," I said, "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

He struck a pose, the classic bodybuilder, arms out and bent at 90 degrees, showing his biceps which were, by the way, pretty damn impressive.

But I wanted his cock. It was big, not huge, but bigger than average, and remember, I had quite a bit of experience on which to base my estimate of "average." He was circumcised, and the head, his glans, was swollen. Oh, he was ready, of that there was no doubt at all.

"Come to mama, big guy," I said, parting my legs and lifting my knees.

And he did.

His eyes never left mine as he climbed onto the bed and then guided himself to where I was so ready for him.

Our eyes were still locked as he entered me, and I accepted his entire length with a sigh.

"Oh Jesus," I sighed, wrapping my arms and legs around him, "Oh fucking JESUS."

He held still.

"Easy Susan," he said, "this is our real first time let's make it last."

"Oh Jesus," was all I could manage.

"It's hardly our first time," I managed at last.

"Yes," he breathed into my ear, his breath warm, sending a rush from my scalp to my belly, "it is." He kissed me then, "that woman who lifted her skirt in the parking lot of a bar no longer exists." He kissed me again, "We both know that."

"Oh God," I moaned, "But can you ever forgive her."

He kissed me again, a long, slow kiss.

"Nothing to forgive," he said, making me cry.

"Nothing to forgive," he repeated, kissing away my tears.

"Nothing to forgive," he said again and my control failed.

I came, screaming his name.

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" I was bawling by then, not just crying, I was wracked by sobs. I couldn't breathe. My body was on fire. My belly was pulsing in great waves of ecstasy.

"Nothing to forgive," he said again, so softly I could barely hear him, sending another wave of ecstasy through me. My back arched and I was shuddering.

"Nothing to forgive," and I exploded. It felt like I had lost bladder control. I was cumming as I had never cum before. My entire body was a mass of nerve endings, each tingling separately.

And I heard myself begging.

"Please, Wes, please, baby," I was crying out, "don't make me wait, fill me up, give me the Gift, please, baby, please."

And still, his control held.

My belly muscles were exhausted, my back was cramping, and I was exhausted.

Finally, I surrendered, I laid back, smiling, content.

"How do you do that?" I asked, well, I managed to get out between gasps.

He smiled down at me.

"Sometime I'll tell you about my grandmother," he said, keeping his rhythm up, keeping me flowing.

"Fill me up, honey, as only a man can fill a woman, and then tell me," I said, getting my breathing more or less under control.

He kissed me.

"I'll beg if I must," I said and that seemed to get to him.

I felt the sudden tension in his body and then the wonderful sensation as his Gift overflowed and ran, hot and thick and sticky, down the crack of my ass.

"Thank you, baby," I said and he kissed me.

"No, Susan, thank you," he said and kissed me again.

He stayed longer than most, but he is a man and softened and slipped out, drawing a sharp little gasp from both of us.

"Do I make you happy, Susan?" he asked, moving up to lay beside me, sharing a pillow so each of our tiny movements became a tiny kiss.

"More than anyone, ever," I said, truthfully.

He nuzzled my neck and found my nipple and nursed for a while then.

We lay like that, our hands exploring very slowly, very gently, examining each other like blind people. I think we both dozed a little before he started to get hard again.

"I think you should do the work this time," he said, grinning and rolling onto his back.

I had rested and so I managed to swing my leg over him and straddle him, sitting right where he was getting hard, my knees beside his ribs, feeling the slickness of my natural honey mixed with his semen as I rocked my hips gently, almost masturbating him with my pussy.

His hands found my breasts then, my nipples aching they were so hard, and began lightly caressing them.

"They won't break," I said, rocking my hips in that womanrhythm no man can ever achieve.

His thumbs and forefingers tightened down on my nipples and he twisted, making me groan, but also making that electric jolt from them directly to my clitoris.

My years of fucking and sucking had left me, well, not numb but needing pretty strong stimulation, so I said, "that's right, Wes, don't be afraid. They won't break."

He grinned then, and used his palms, flat on the bottoms of my breasts, pushing them up, and then his fingers pressing down from the top.

"Harder, baby," I said, my breath catching.

His fingers squeezed harder, making me groan, and making me flow between my legs, making us both wet and slick.

"Yessssssssssssssss," I hissed as his fingers really dug in.

"Susan," he said, a bit breathless himself, "I don't want to hurt you."

"I know baby," I said, "but it's what I need."

I screamed and came at the same time as his fingers dug in then.

"Jesus," I cried out, and moved my hips to take him inside again.

And his fingers dug deeper.

I screamed again, and came, and said, "easy, baby, don't tear them off."

He released them then, his eyes big, "oh God, did I hurt you?"

I bent and kissed him.

"Yes, you hurt me," I said, and caught his hands, "but it's okay, baby. It's what I need sometimes. Maybe someday I won't, but not yet, and don't be afraid, Wes, please. If it's too much I'll always tell you."

His eyes were on mine. "Are you sure?" he asked.

I bent down for a kiss.

"I'm certain, honey," I said, "more certain than I have been about anything."

He grinned then, and slapped my ass.

"Then get to fucking, bitch," he said, and I laughed as I started riding him hard.

This time it was an odd combination. It wasn't tender lovemaking, but it wasn't just fucking either. It was passionate and energetic.

It was exhausting too. I was sweating and panting. I had cum a dozen times. And still, his control held.

"Okay," I said, collapsing onto him, "you win. I'm spent."

He chuckled and started caressing my back, lightly.

"Good," he said, "I'm wondering how long it will take to get you back to your pre-fuckfest self."

I settled onto him, snuggling.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" I asked, "a plain vanilla redhead?"

"Well," he said, finding my ass with his hands and patting lightly, "maybe we can find a comfortable middle ground."

I giggled and snuggled against him.

We made love again that night, gentle, tender, sweet.

.