The Journey

"But you're talking twenty-five or thirty for me before tomorrow!" Her eyes were wide as she contemplated this.

"Let me make it easier on you. Right now, I'm rested and I can and will get there pretty fast - so it's best that you get completely pleased before I bust a nut. After that, I'll probably want to sleep. But if you wake me up in an hour or so, it will take longer and you won't have to worry about me going off 'half-cocked'"

"That's what I thought. OK, we need to play a different game. This one is called Shortstop."

"How do you play?"

"Whatever you're doing to me if I say 'STOP' you have to stop right then, no delays. Because otherwise, I will just fall over the cliff into climax land."

"And if you're getting too close, whatever I'm doing to you, say 'STOP'"

"Assuming my mind and vocal cords are functional" he teased and then pondered this for a moment. "But, that means you will miss a lot of orgasms."

"No I won't. Besides, I like being on the edge, too. And there's another reason why were going to do this. I want that last one to be both of us at the same time."

Well the rules were clear enough, but Don had his doubts.

"OK", he said. "What's first?"

She leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He looked at her incredulously, "You're kidding, right?"

"I couldn't be more serious. Mr. Tesche you have made me diddle myself a hundred times thinking about you and you haven't thought about me even once!"

"Well, it wasn't on purpose, and I didn't know you were diddling yourself. Besides, how will you know what I am thinking about?"

"You leave that to me! Start pulling, Mister!" she ordered.

Maggie had propped herself up on pillows as Don knelt near the bottom of the queen sized bed and began to touch himself. Maggie watched every motion: how he seemed to press his left fingers down at the root of his joint and press two fingers of the other hand right over the center, about an inch below the head. He WAS thinking about her, yes Lord, because Maggie had her knees apart and was touching herself with one hand and bringing her breast up to her mouth with the other.

"Is this a bad girl thing I'm doing, Donnie?" she asked sweetly.

His voice quivered. "It is, but it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, so that has to be good."

He reached out with his left hand and touched her right thigh near her pussy, "You're glistening and I can hear you squish."

"STOP" they both shouted at the same time. This was harder than it looked. They each had a sip of soft drink and by mutual agreement began again.

Maggie extended her right leg and pinched his purplish mushroom between her toes. "What is so special about that place you are rubbing, Donnie?"

"Well, it's kind of a little piece of skin right over the main pipe. I don't know if it's the skin itself, or the pressure, but it just feels so good, you know?"

"Kind of like right here," she whispered pulling her folds back. Her lips were normally tiny, but when aroused they became bigger and fatter, blooming out from the middle. Above the ovoid opening her flesh swelled like a long welt pointing to her tunnel and the pink button made an appearance. She loved the pressure on that button, but it almost made her crazy with lust.

Donnie moved up closer to her, licking her left breast, sucking the nipple lustily and letting it go with a pop. He used his left hand to smear saliva over her toes watching them flex and hearing her breathing ratchet rapidly upward. "Quick, STOP" she gasped.

Donnie stopped momentarily; he could feel that pounding rush making his nuts throb. He kissed her hard on the mouth, in spite of his ravaged lip.

"I can't see what you're doing so well, baby" she whined, "Still thinking about me?"

"You have no idea"

"Well, come closer and tell me."

She pressed and guided him until he straddled her chest, his dick inches away from her face. She placed her fingertips on his sack, drawing the skin down taut while he pulled up. "I was watching you and smelling how wet and sexy your pussy is. I could hear the faint squish it was making." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Oh, Maggie, what a fool I was, the hours I wasted when we could have been making love!"

She pulled his shaft downward, taking the head between her lips and sliding her tongue down underneath as he tried to stroke. He raggedly choked out "STOP" but he almost went too far. His ears were ringing and he was emitting a steady stream of clear, slippery fluid.

She looked up at him, her eyes red with lust. "What are you thinking about, bad boy?"

"Only you, my angel, only you."

She looked longingly at his dark purplish mushroom. "Are you as close as I am?" she panted.

"I may not be able to move" he managed to choke out.

But move he had, and Maggie got him between her legs, hip to hip. She pulled her petals apart and pressed his hard shaft down against her most intimate flesh, her "spot" against his "spot". Her hands moved up to his ass and she kissed him so deeply that the universe shrank to a pinpoint of blinding incandescent light. "Now" she urged, "no stopping and God help us both."

It seemed to take only a few quick pumps; maybe it was more, maybe less. Don only felt her luscious body beneath him; her calves snaked around the back of his legs. Much later he saw what her nails had done to his ass. He exploded onto her tummy, and it felt like a quart. She was galloping beneath him, a runaway train, and an irresistible avalanche rolled into one. He had not known that a person's hips could move so fast, she swept him away as her wave crashed against the shores of his body. He was pretty sure they both had screamed like animals and then slipped into perfect sleep in each other's arms.

* * *

Maggie woke and looked down at Don lying between her legs and gently teasing her pubes. He seemed to be in a world of his own, tenderly exploring her, parting her tight lips and peering into her crevice. She smiled drowsily and asked, "Is that all you care about on me, or any woman, as far as it goes?" Her voice was soft and dreamy; she seemed to be genuinely surprised by his attentions.

"It's not the only thing that I care about, but it's one of the really important things. I adore you hair, your voice, those ... (he nodded towards her extravagant breasts) ... but I think I love your eyes more than anything. There's nothing I want to do more than to keep looking into those eyes. But since you were asleep and since tonight has brought so many new opportunities ... I think my appetite for you and this garden of delight is just waking up and I'm finding that I'm still hungry for more and more. You are the best of everything a man could want in a woman, and at this instant; this is the best part of you. Besides, are you complaining?

"No, leibling, I never been so happy to be objectified, especially since you do it so charmingly. It's just that it's not equitable if you give me so many orgasms and have so few yourself."

"Maybe the orgasms aren't equitable, but making love to you in my way gives me more than my fair share of pure, unadulterated pleasure. However, now that you mention it, words are cheap and I really need to answer your question non-verbally."

"You're a marvelous liar, my darling, but, please, keep lying to me just like ... oh... that ... yes!"

She rose and fell like a raft on a storm-ravished sea, lifting herself high to the crest and plunging down into the valleys with increasing speed. The lightening flashed down her nervous system, her cries were as loud as thunder, and at one point she enfolded his head and used her arms and legs to pull him in tighter while she rocked like a runaway clockworks. When her cries softened into moans and she fell back on the pillows trembling, he knew it was again time for them both to rest. Her voice was soft and pensive, and just before sleep overtook them, he heard her say, "I think your trying to burn out every nerve I have."

* * * *

An hour later, Maggie slipped from the bed and went downstairs to the kitchen. When she came back up stairs, she fumbled through her purse and pulled out a small silver cylinder. Don came to consciousness when she tugged down the covering sheet and turned on the reading lamp, its warm yellow light painting him from chest to toes. She was now laying between his legs, looking up at him, watching him sleep, her right hand gently holding his deflated organ. The light fell on her perfect face as if she were on stage, she watched his eyes, he watched hers. In her left hand she held a bear-shaped squirt bottle of honey and she began to drizzle long golden streams of it over his shaft and knob. She began to lick up the thick stream with her eager tongue and soon he was swollen and fat, much like he was when his erections just started to fade. He was nearly as large as he ever got, and almost as soft, as she ministered to him. The honey had been capped and tossed off the side of the bed.

She opened the bright crimson lipstick and began to apply it thickly, overdoing it, intentionally coating her generous lips to excess, all under Donnie's scrutiny. She moved his cock toward her chin and then enveloped the head, sucking hard. When it popped free of her eager mouth, he was adorned with a red ring of waxy color. "Is this naughty enough that you will remember it for a long, long time?"

He could only answer with a nod and a plaintive moan, and his eyes wanted to slip shut. He was like a cat in front of a fireplace, stretching languidly and basking in the warmth of her acts. Since his eyes were closing anyway, she urged him into a new position: he on his left side, high in the bed against the headboard; she to his right, facing him, with her feet dangling off the bottom of the mattress. She drew him in with her mouth and pressed up with her right hand under his sack, driving him deeper and deeper. Her left arm was extended and tweaked his nipples, which much to his surprise were as hard as hers had been at various times through the evening. When he did manage to open his eyes, there was only the top of her head to see, and the fan of sun-streaking fawn colored hair falling across her back. The harder he got, the more she pushed, always forcing him further, until he finally felt an obstruction, and then with a bend of anatomy he would not have thought possible in his obdurate state, he slipped past it into some new even tighter place. The slick volcanic heat was propelling him "downward", almost to the point of pain, and completely without means of stopping. He was pumping in short, frantic strokes, trying to go deeper with nothing left, drawing back only at the superlative expense of withdrawing from the place where he was trying so desperately to stay. "I'm so close," he gasped.

Somehow, he was caught on the edge of the precipice, unable to go forward or back, clinging to the fringes of sanity in exquisite, beautiful agony. There was no need of warnings to her about being in the line of fire, or any final inquiry as to whether she was sure or not. She kneaded his sack with increasing pressure, as if she expected to wring it from him. She wanted him to fire down her gullet, and he wanted to do that more than he needed to draw breath. He was about to beg her for a brief respite when it overwhelmed him. His brain seemed to melt and flow out of him with the white ropes of seed. Her throat worked and she would not let one drop escape. He bellowed like a bull. It was not until he began to return to more modest proportions that he withdrew back into her mouth. "hmmmrrfferf" she mumbled around him, seeking his attention focus.

He moved her soft, magnificent hair out of the way and at the last lost himself in those incredible brown eyes. "I don't think I have a single brain-cell left" he whispered, and then drew her up and kissed her deeply and eagerly. He tasted himself mixed with her own sweet saliva and wiped the last of the lipstick away with his own mouth on hers.

"You know, you're right," she admitted. "I was hungrier than I realized for the best part of you."

* * * *

Much later, he woke with her lying in the crook of his arm, breasts mashed against him as he cupped a handful of her ass. She was gently cupping his cock in her right hand and her sweet, sweet hair was over his face.

When he glanced at his watch on the nightstand, it was nearly four AM, and the sea was roaring in the distance.

She woke as he was reaching for the light and seemed disoriented at first. "Do you want me to go" he asked with a feeling of impending doom.

"You can if you need to, but it is your turn."

So they'd fixed the bed for sleeping and snapped off the lights. Sometime later he had reached out to her in the darkness, and when he did, she took his hand and softly kissed it. He stroked her hair. They kissed and they kissed, he cupped her breasts. She whispered, "OK, they're 42E."

"Jesus" he whistled.

They met in the center, stretching their legs and entwining with each other. He had hold of himself and was reaching for her pussy when he felt her hand take him and guide him home. "Here, let me, you've done enough."

And so, when all the "bad" things that had frustrated them were done, and redone, and reveled in and memorized; at long last they had come to good things; things that join a woman and a man in more than the physical realm. The count is unimportant, if they even bothered. He just says that they both lost their virginities, the spiritual ones, and they did it together, clinging to each other, because there was no one else in the world except each other.

* * * *

Epilog

This is where we shall leave the story. Don and Maggie, of course, did not end up getting married to each other. I won't say how much of this happened with Maggie, and how much Don worked out with me playing Maggie, but every bit of it is true in some form or fashion. Recently, Don even found an email address for her and they exchanged a couple of letters and pictures of their families and children. The years have taken the bloom of youth from both of them, but there's something in Don's eyes and his way of telling this story that makes me feel quite warm and excited. Maggie married a man nearly fifteen years her senior, and her Tim didn't seem to mind that they corresponded, even if she and Don had "dated" when they were very young. Don said that working on this story with me and editing it was an emotional catharsis. Some memories, even good ones are painful. I think he's at peace with them now. I don't know if Maggie ever comes here to read these stories, or if any of it will seem familiar enough to embarrass her or make her feel violated. We wanted to explain how special she was, how beautiful, how perfect. She was his good girl and his first love. Should she read these words, please know that he thinks of you with the greatest affection only.

May 6, 2008

With love