The Bodyguard

She became frantic. Her fingers drew the leather of the couch into sweaty clumps as she tried to swivel herself forward onto my questing finger. Her eagerness to bury my finger in her anus was revealing. I filed away that meaty little piece of information for future reference and contented myself with maintaining that fleeting contact through the roiling of her hips. She moaned in frustration. Suddenly, she couldn't endure it any longer. She tugged at my hair weakly, trying to drag me upwards along her sweat slick body.

"Come here," she said, "come here."

I obeyed and slid along her length until my face hovered over hers. My cock, erect and throbbing, came to rest against her luscious groove. My cock twitched and she shuddered as my flesh pulsed against the mouth of her cunt. She trailed her fingers through the wetness that coated my cheeks.

"I want your face to soak in my juices," she groaned, "I want you to smell of me. When we go for that little party tonight, I want the little bitches to know that you have been used, that you are going to be brought back home and used again."

I could feel her wetness seep into the skin of my cock. I was frantic to bury myself in her flesh, but used every ounce of willpower that I could muster to hold myself back. I didn't know what she wanted. And this was about her. She suddenly flipped me onto my back with her on top, my cock now trapped between her powerful thighs. The muscles in her thighs rippled as she flexed them and I almost came. She swung herself forward until her calves were on either side of my face and her pussy, wet and gleaming, was poised above my lips. I knew what was coming and I was trapped.

My eyes drank in the open flower of her pussy above me -- the pink wet meat, the succulent hole, the liquid dripping in thick strands from her slit -- and I wanted to bury my face in it. I moaned and my hips surged, fucking my cock into a phantom cunt that didn't exist.

"Please ..." I whispered hoarsely, "Please ..."

She took pity on both of us then, gently placed her palms on either side of my head and drew my face into the sodden heat of her cunt. My lips parted instinctively and I began to lick - the swollen stem of her clit, the pulsing hole of her cunt, the tempting darkness of her anus. I was drowning in wetness. She was becoming more frantic. Her thighs were trembling around my face and the movements of her hips had become ragged. She was rubbing herself over my face, her wet flesh sliding to and fro with an obscene slurping noise that inflamed my senses.

Her head was thrown back. She was utterly absorbed in her own pleasure and no longer aware of what she was doing to me. I was finding it difficult to breathe. I could be smothered by this wet juicy cunt, I thought in a rush of panic, and she wouldn't even notice. I found myself thinking that it would be a beautiful way to go. I had to end this ... I had no choice. I swiveled my chin and captured her clit as it slid past my lips. I gently suckled it, lashing the pink tip with my tongue. She exploded. I didn't think I would ever be dry again. I was awash in her juices. Even my throat was drenched and she was beginning to drip onto my chest.

She stayed like that for a long time, her fingers twisted in my hair, her thighs jerking spasmodically as little tremors continued to rock her frame. I licked her softly, calming her, consoling her. After what seemed like an eternity, she peeled herself off my face and shifted to lie down beside me. I gathered her into my arms and held her as an occasional shudder ran through her body. I reached between her legs and tenderly cupped her pussy. It was still pulsing from that orgasm which didn't seem to end. When she was almost herself again and her eyes had fluttered open, she smiled shyly. She kissed me softly and then ran her tongue along my lips in a long wet lick, tasting her own release.

"Fuck me tonight," she whispered softly.

"I thought you would never ask," I replied.

*****

The ground was covered in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. As we parked our car, we could hear the quiet buzz of voices. The soulful notes of an Ella Fitzgerald song filtered out of the window. It was a beautiful night, clear and sharp. I had worn a jacket and tie. It was that sort of a party. Elena looked ravishing in a gown of burgundy that swept the floor around her ankles and was slit down the front to reveal just a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. Her hair, no longer in her usual ponytail, was piled up in artful disorder on her head. It glistened in the moonlight. She delicately picked up the folds of her gown with one hand as she placed the other in the crook of my elbow. We were ready to take on the world.

She couldn't help attracting attention and nor apparently could I. For me, that was new. Did it show that we had just had earth shattering sex? Did we glow? Or the coy sidelong glances from under thick lashes, the fingers that lingered a moment longer than was necessary on my arm ... were they always there? Had I merely been too self absorbed to notice?

She seemed completely at ease in a setting that ought to have been intimidating, a setting that oozed wealth and privilege, where what you owned and who you knew mattered more than the person you were. But then, I thought, there wasn't much that fazed her. The buzz of conversation became more subdued as a slow song began to play over the speakers. A few couples strode into the middle to dance. The others watched quietly. I leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Shall we?"

She smiled, a smile warm enough even to melt the icy blue of her eyes. She placed one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder and we began to move slowly to the rhythm of the music. I didn't remember the last time I had felt so comfortable with someone. She was as tall as I was in her high heels and as we danced, her cheek snuggled against mine.

"Don't look now," she said, a smile in her voice, "but there's this girl who's been eyeing you all evening."

"Really," I said, playing along, "what does she look like?"

"Well, she's a brunette. Short but stacked. Her dress can barely keep her in."

"Hmmm ... sounds promising."

"You know, I think she would make a move," she said and then leaned closer to whisper softly in my ear, "Only she isn't sure whether we are fucking."

She squeezed my hand lightly as my body stiffened and then slid her other hand down from my shoulder along my side and over my rear.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, as her hand closed around my butt, squeezing ... once ... before returning to my shoulder.

"Just letting her know," she whispered, "The poor thing has run off now. She's probably going to diddle herself in the Ladies room, her naughty little mind inflamed by images of your naked body. Do you want me to get her for you?"

"How do you propose to do that?" I asked, amused despite myself.

"Well, I was thinking of following her and knocking her over the head with something heavy. I can then sling her over my shoulder and we can take her home and toy with her body."

I laughed.

"We?" I asked, looking down at her quizzically from under one arch eyebrow, "Dream on, sweetheart. But I must say your solutions are always elegant in their simplicity."

"Oh, well ... I try," she replied smugly, echoing words that I had spoken just ... what was it? ... the day before. It seemed like a lifetime.

"I just want you, Elena," I whispered, now serious, "Just you."

She laid her head on my shoulder to hide her blush.

"You know you can have me, Ivan."

Suddenly, I was tired of the party, this collection of people who didn't know who they were and were pretending hard to be people they weren't. I wanted to be alone with her. She was surprised when I gently drew away. I held her at arms length and silently mouthed the words, "Come with me."

She nodded her assent. Several pairs of eyes followed us, some with amusement, others with envy and yet others with a barely concealed disapproval, as we threaded our way between the dancing couples towards the door. To their mind, there was only one reason a man would drag a woman away from a dance floor in the middle of a slow song -- to fuck her brains out. I didn't care what they thought.

We were both in a hurry, but I couldn't allow myself to yield to the temptation to really open up the Mercedes SLR convertible that we were riding in. The roads were covered in a thin layer of ice and the last thing I wanted was an accident. So, we were forced to cruise at a moderate pace that was completely at odds with the fire raging in our bodies. By the time we got home, we were almost ready to claw each other naked.

I shed my clothes as I walked towards the bedroom, dropping them carelessly on the floor to form a trail that would lead to me and to what we were about to share. When I turned around, she was leaning against the doorframe still fully clad. As I raised an enquiring eyebrow, she reached upwards and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. It slid down her body like liquid and pooled at her feet. Her breasts were bare, her rosy pink nipples, which had swum in the wetness of my mouth earlier in the day, already hard. Was it from the cold or from anticipation of what was to come? ... I wondered.

She had a knife strapped to one thigh and a tiny silver plated automatic to the other. She never stops working, I thought. Her panties, a delicate confection of lace, was the same color as her gown. She raised one thigh elegantly, flicked open the Velcro and dropped the revolver to the floor. The knife followed. She slid her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and shimmied it down her legs. When she straightened up, she briefly hid her pussy behind her hand before uncovering it. As she glanced at me shyly from under her lashes, I understood why. Her pussy was completely bare, the soft golden flames that had framed it now gone. She looked delicious ... utterly fuckable.

"When ...?" I asked in confusion.

"When I showered ... after we made love in the morning."

"Do you like it?" she asked softly.

"I love it," I replied. But the words that were on the tip of my tongue, the words that I caught a moment before they spilled from my lips were other ones ... They were "I love you" ... That impulse took me utterly by surprise. Could you love a woman you had known only for two days? Did I love a woman I had known only for two days?

She was oblivious to the storm raging in my heart. I felt her palms, cool to the touch, flatten themselves against my chest. She pushed me gently to sit down on the bed and then leaned forward to make me lie on it. When I reached for her, she gently captured my wrists and pushed the soft mounds of her breasts into the hollows of my palms. Her nipples, sharp from arousal, dug into my flesh. Her eyes were soft with hunger. She gently pulled my hands away from her breasts and laid them by my sides.

"Be still, sweetheart," she whispered.

I followed her with my eyes as she pulled something out of her purse. It was a tube of some kind, icy blue, the color of her eyes. She squeezed the contents into her palm and then curled her fingers around my cock.

"That feels cold," I complained.

"Its just a menthol lube," she explained as she gently stroked my shaft, coating it in the liquid, "I'll soon make you warm, I promise."

Her touch was so light, like a gust of wind. I ached for something firmer ... warmer. She rose up on her knees above me, placed the tip of my cock against her juicy hole and slowly lowered herself, burying my shaft in her cunt. We both groaned at the same time. The effect was devastating. The coolness of the menthol coupled with the heat of her cunt to drive us crazy. The molten heat of her pussy scorched my flesh and the liquid sheath of menthol that covered my cock chilled hers.

She rose up again until only the swollen knob of my cock was still trapped in her cunt. The feeling was unbearable. Half my shaft was sheathed in fire and the other half in ice. She moaned softly as she lowered herself again, sliding wetly along my shaft. The soft slurping sound of my cock being slowly swallowed filled the room. She didn't seem to be able to do that anymore -- rise and fall. She plastered her body against mine and slowly rotated her hips, grinding the swollen lips of her pussy and the tender stem of her clit against my pubes.

I took her face in my hands ... tenderly ... and raised it to look into her eyes. Her eyes were clouded with lust ... with need ... for this. I traced the outline of her lips with the tip of a forefinger and then gently probed, seeking entry. She looked puzzled for a moment and then parted her lips drawing my finger into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sucked softly. It looked and felt incredibly erotic, her soft lips sliding wetly up and down my digit. My cock throbbed inside the tight prison of her pussy. Maybe she could suck my finger and make me cum.

When I withdrew my finger from her mouth, she moaned softly. My hand traveled down her body to softly cup one delicious cheek of her bottom. And then, I placed my fingertip, now wet, against the mouth of her anus and pushed. She gasped and her eyes snapped open as my finger violated her tight little hole and sank into her flesh all the way to the root. As I began to slowly fuck in and out, her body began to shudder. Her mouth was open, her breath coming in little gasps. The movement of her hips had become ragged as she ground against me. I saw the panic in her eyes as she began to fall into the abyss. I placed my free hand behind her head and drew her face softly into my throat.

"Cum for me, baby," I whispered.

And she did, in long shuddering spasms that milked my cock, that threatened to tear it from the root. I didn't last long in the maelstrom of her throbbing pussy. I couldn't. My voice caught in my throat as I spurted, painting the walls of her pussy with my juice. We remained where we were, too exhausted to move. Where our bodies joined, it was warm and sticky from our combined juices trickling out of her hole. She slowly swirled her hips and we reveled in that warmth. We lay there, wrapped in silence, for a long time.

"You know," I said, "I might need protection in Oxford. The students can get pretty rowdy sometimes. And the townies ... they are an unruly bunch too ... more drunk than sober. I can think of a lot of heads that you can break."

She giggled.

"Oh, goody!" she said.

"I was thinking since I need a shadow and you seem rather good at looking after my ... umm, interests ... you would do nicely."

"I'm pleased that you think so." The smile was still in her voice.

"And you won't even have to find a place to stay," I continued, "I have my own digs at St. Giles. It's rather small of course. It might not fit a second bed. Would that be a problem?" I enquired solicitously.

She laughed.

"No, that won't be a problem."

I was grinning like a fool.

"Well, that's settled then," I said as I drew her closer. I knew then that she was mine ... for keeps.

*****

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... fantasy