The Long Highway Pt. 10 B

Women are different from men. They seem capable sometimes of thinking about other stuff even in the throes of passion- or right afterward anyway.

They'd probably level the same complaint about us, ha ha ha.

We were kind to each other so could be rough, bring her to rough orgasm (Or had she faked that? Why really hadn't she wanted to go to the party with me? Too much thinking!)

Afterward, my hands were all over her breasts. Yeah. I was hot. No hurry.

"Time to get up," Akemi said.

Oh no! Oh no! It was okay. Sometimes I'd gotten satisfied and left it at that, so she could too. And she had the phone call home to make.

Still, my assent sounded more like a groan.

To be continued.

When she got off her phone she was ready.

"You'd better do it from the back," she said. "That way's more comfortable."

We were back on the couch.

Concerned with the logistics rather than the passion. Yeah, she did remind me at times of Pam at her worst, when our romance had wound down yet we were still together- for too long.

Still, her suggestion I come from behind was not one I'd complain about. On the contrary.

What a delightful invitation.

From behind, I found her cunt, not asshole, her bottom in my hands, moving my cockhead around, guided by sensation. I couldn't see where it was. My line of sight was forward, to her back arched forward, her waiting pose.

This hole? No it's that one. Some slight resistance met me. Should I have taken more time? Slowed? I didn't think so. Let's get it in now was my thought. Once you've got the head placed right, you want to keep that, go forward, not away, take advantage of the snug fit you've found, the interplay begun. Move it around, widen it. The plunge continued, slide smoothing, wet, to the depths where you and she burned inside her. Didn't someone write a book with that title? Cool fire? No, it was "Pale Fire." Nabokov. One I never read, lol.

There's a cheap mirror we have, standing one against the wall by the front door. My view was right there. Leaned upright against the wall, plastic frame.

I could see myself and Akemi before me, her hips up, her plush flesh. I couldn't adjust the mirror angle, which was just right, but I could adjust us to get the best view, straight on, of the double sculpture we made. Up among the greats, on par with Michelangelo's "Pieta."

I pulled Akemi over to the side just a few inches- her ass had to move, her front also, her knees first, to make it perfect.

"Hey, what?" she grunted, wondering why, thinking probably I was adjusting my cock in her. I was doing that too. The shift didn't take long and she didn't keep asking.

Checking out how we looked in the glass. Like two different people. Like a picture of two people who happened to be us, living our lives. Oh god. I pulled Akemi's ass up higher, socked to me, and pumped. Oh god. I was moaning again, my cock so hard, thick, exaggerated the way something looks through water, pulled out, wet sump, then back in, Akemi's muscles working, sure rhythm, her flesh oscillating, like rolling sea surface rippled by wind.

My hand braced on the small of her back, slipped to the sides. Both hands gripped. Could Akemi see me watching, the double turn-on from the mirror at a distance before us, our figure, the one we made together, just fitting the narrow upright, designed for viewing a single standing person, someone who'd put on their jacket or whatever and was about to go outdoors into public, making sure how they looked. There we were.

Usually you just checked the mirror for a moment but we were before it with time on our hands, going nowhere but where we were. Motion in a fixed place. Like a treadmill- no, one of those swimming pools with self-generating waves that mount and ride back and forth, delighting the swimmers, bringing screams, thrill upon thrill. Until you calm down, get used to it, get down to business, get your workout in. We did.

I just wished I had my camera, wanted to photograph, video that. But there was no way I was going to stop and get that piece of equipment- it was not in arm's reach like the other. Lol.

First of all, that would have been unfair to Akemi. Next time. There'd definitely be one, and more after that. We'd discovered something. I had this time. The visual matters. And here we had four eyes each. I felt like congratulating myself and I did by fucking Akemi good, long, hard and deep, that was the rhythm, each vibration echoing visually.

It looked different in the mirror than it felt inside. Both good. Double pleasure. Pleasure squared, tripled, built exponentially.

If my take seems one-sided, I guess it's because we were looking the same way then, not facing each other. I could only see her head falling or rising, couldn't see her face in the mirror, too far away. I mean, I could make out her bright, dark eyes, her mouth too, but not in its nuanced expression, just as a maw.

I don't know how this fuck sounds to you. To me it seemed almost more pleasure than any man should get. Pleasure to the hilt, to the limit and then past and keep on going. Akemi's diminutive, Asian, but her pussy will take a lot of you and keep going, opening, space after space, embracing, welcoming, standing back deferentially, giving you room, then hugging, then pulling away coyly, only to embrace again, wrap you in its embrace, hug and kiss you, show and withhold its mysteries, semi-transparent, tinted shadow upon shadow- that kind of mystery staggering to mind and senses, all of them, mystery upon mystery, showing you it doesn't end until both you and she do.

Since I was in back, I felt I was kind of just using her body, and I was, and wondered how she felt about that? Was I being selfish? Was Akemi just enduring, taking it? Wasn't taking it what she wanted? This was no rape, after all. Ha ha. We'd gotten in a rhythm together.

I could hear her breathing, her response, panting, sometimes calling out, for all the world like one of those rubber dolls that mews when you squeeze it.

Her body warmth, real heat. I've always said to her, "Your temperature's slightly higher than everyone else's."

"Atatakai," I said last night. That's her language. You can look it up.

My hand was cold- it was a brisk fall evening- but on Akemi's ass, instant heat. Right from the start, as she- we- winched into position.

No rape but I was definitely venting my aggression along with love and lust. Stuff runs through your mind. Not the stuff itself but the feelings that flow and rage. The foam of emotion there in the foam at Akemi's cunt. The other day she'd stopped me on the street from getting into an altercation, as sometimes happens, I speak up when someone pulls something stupid. Akemi doesn't like that, and the person in question this time was mentally ill.

Akemi saw before me that his behavior reflected a problem beyond ordinary lack of consideration. If I had known the guy was half off his rocker, delusional or whatever, I wouldn't have reacted as I did. You give a person like that a pass. They need help not a tongue-lashing.

Akemi and I are a married couple and sometimes fight like one.

She said to me, "Don't talk to people who-"

"I'll talk to whoever I want," I snapped.

So there was that too as I split her ass on my cock, not her asshole, as I've said.. I'll leave that to Nelson. Not on your life! Lol.

Akemi had wanted to give me a tongue wagging (rather than lashing, lol) on the street for starting to mix it up, get in trouble, but she doesn't like making a scene in public. She's discreet- I've said she's different from most in her country- it's a reason, one among many, that she moved here- but in some ways she's very Japanese. Concerned with appearance.

And she makes a damned good one.

Now she was wagging her tongue as I fucked her from behind on the couch. I could see it in the mirror. Akemi hates being embarrassed and a lot of my behavior appalls her in its rudeness, lack of decorum or whatever, its Americanness, you could say.

Funny the same stuff from Nelson, even worse, impresses her. He's a famous artist and I'm not. She actually seems to like being shocked by him. Go figure. Or is it that her respect for the exalted film-maker makes any criticism of him stick in her throat or does his charisma render her incapable of critical thought? Ha ha. What an idiot Nelson is. But he's my friend!

Sex is one thing Akemi doesn't find embarrassing at all.

"Come on, babe." Her flesh slips in my fingers, eludes my grip.

"Come on, babe." Boom, boom, boom. "Come for me."

Leaving in the morning (yes, checking myself in the hall mirror first), I met a neighbor outside, new guy, thickset, friendly with a brush mustache. We talked. He said he still knew almost no one in the building. Saw that as unfortunate. Was from out of town, Middle America where neighbors know each other, not the city where we don't. I appreciated his sociability. He would learn it doesn't fit here.

"If you take the shuttle bus-" there's one to the subway station, as a convenience- "you'd have a chance to meet people." Chatting en route, ten minute journey conducive to openness, everyone understanding it wouldn't last, no strings were attached.

I gave the guy that tip. He was going the other way then, though, not toward the train like me.

I don't usually chat with neighbors en route to my job, the rushed hour of day. Can't spare the minute it would take.

Ordinarily, I'd walk at a rapid clip and get to the freaking subway as fast as possible. But this time I turned and engaged the guy on the corner because he looked like he'd benefit from a little social interaction. Call me soft-hearted. And I wasn't in a special hurry. I had that morning's preparation down pat, knew what I would do in class.

That new kid in town would be fine, eventually find friends. Nice outgoing guy like him would. He'd get some female companionship too. He was handsome enough, stocky, with his big mustache looked like a woodsman. Open-hearted, not a type common in the city, a type women like. "Disarming" is the word that comes to mind. Because he didn't push his sociability on you, you felt like socializing with him. Maybe that's it.

He might even find a woman in our building. There were any number of attractive prospects, like the refugee I wrote about yesterday- oh, but she's married. Well, nothing wrong with just a fling. Several of our neighbors would be fine for him, just so long as it wasn't Akemi! Ha ha!

The image of her last night still played in my head. She had put on a skirt, before making her phone call home made us coffee. Like batik! Deep sky blue and feathery white, sheathing her thighs. With her breasts jutting above. That was a lot to take in.

Our apartment is fine, by the way. Yes, there've been noise issues, chiefly music from next door, and it's sometimes felt like a dorm or hostel with all Akemi's friends, visitors staying there.

"Getting some exercise," said the neighbor I approached as he he stepped toward the corner, across the street at an angle, heading off through our pleasant residential neighborhood. Leaves were scattered on the street on the fall morning.

"I get mine," I said, "in the park. Even alone, there's a fun way. I bring a ball and throw it to myself to catch. Sounds strange but it's fun and works. You throw as high and long as you can and then run down the field to catch it."

I moved my arms and legs, standing at the curb with him, mimicking a high-powered sprint, ran in place.

The guy thanked me for the tip. Of course, he probably wouldn't act on it. Not a loner type, like me, still to an extent, even though I'm married. You can see it in my slightly debauched habits developed over years living on my own, wanting to photograph Akemi and me fucking in front of a mirror, for one.

Maybe Pam would make a good match for Greg or Michael or whatever his name was. As far as I know my former girlfriend is still unattached. But damned if I'm going to call her to find out.

Akemi and I had gotten our exercise together before that morning. And I wanted more, still do. Even though she came after Pam, she's not second place.

I can understand that she too has feelings for other people. As I've said here, in some ways we, like everyone, remain mysteries to each other. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Would you?