The Long Highway Pt. 17B

And I did go down on Akemi, if not necessarily on the night I described when she went down on me after I came home drunk from the party in honor of Nelson, and she called out so loud I thought it might wake the neighbors, and I loved it, so much I made a recording, and you can be damned sure I didn't send that to Nelson.

I realized I'd better tout her great qualities to people I don't know, who won't get ideas. Welcome, strangers. Back off, Nelson.

When Nelson and Leticia stayed here, Nelson came into our bedroom one night to say goodnight and seeing I was asleep took the blanket and dropped it over me from directly above, covering my head. I woke up finding it hard to breathe, not knowing for a moment where I was. The blanket had landed heavy like a carpet. Disoriented, I almost felt panic for an instant, not knowing which way to go to get out.

No doubt Nelson pulled that prank in a spirit of playfulness, but I also think he acted from jealousy, seeing I shared the bed with Akemi and he didn't.

I wanted to make love to Akemi from directly behind, in what you could call the "robot position." It looks mechanical, us pumping together. I thought I'd like to show that to Nelson, rub in what he was missing. If he can get annoyed at me, I also can at him.

When I was out with Nelson and his wife and those celebrating his films, I felt like shouting about how great Akemi was, even exaggerating, I guess the same as I want to write all this, even about the everyday conversations that can play into sex, join seamlessly with it. About marriage, that is, I'm married to Akemi and Nelson's not.

So yeah, I did go down. Their first morning with us was a Saturday and Leticia and Nelson had to go do something for his film showing that night, left early, and in their absence Akemi said to me, "We're about to go out." To get pastries for breakfast was the plan.

"Let's go in there first." I indicated the empty bedroom.

"Why?" Akemi asked.

"There's something I want to do. With you."

The morning was on the chilly side and I pulled the blanket up over both of us, wanting Akemi to be warm as I went between her legs.

At a point, I pulled my head away to open the edge of the blanket near me. I couldn't breathe. Much as I tried not to interrupt the tongue play, I finally had to.

"Too hot?" Akemi said.

"Not enough air." It was like reliving the moments the night before when Nelson tossed the same dark blue blanket over me, effectively cutting off oxygen.

Akemi laughed, didn't realize I felt- strangely- near panic again, responding out of proportion to the circumstance. Even when the blanket was off my head and the air supply ample, the panic didn't subside immediately. There were emotions in play. And it was too bad, bad timing. I wanted to have at Akemi's pussy.

"I've got an idea," I said and without explaining it in words drew the blanket up so that it covered Akemi from waist to shoulders, warming her, while leaving me free. I didn't mind the coolth in the room and figured neither would Akemi find it uncomfortable having her legs out in the open.

"Suddenly," Akemi said after she'd orgasmed, sooner than expected.

"Was that acting?" I asked Akemi when I joined her up at the head of the bed. She'd called out loudly, panting a while afterward.

"No," she said. "Ah, you're thinking of the movie we saw."

The night before we'd watched one with Leticia and Nelson about a couple who meet in New York, two strangers who spend a wild night together (it turned out they were married, only role-playing as new lovers). On their way from adventure to adventure, they stopped at a bar that featured a "best orgasm contest" consisting of customers (women only shown) acting out climaxes for the audience, who then voted on their favorites. The wife acting as single woman took part, much to the surprise of her husband (pretending to have just met her). She did a very convincing job of panting, then moaning, finally screaming as she writhed in pleasure. The watching drinkers responded warmly and she won the title of "Queen of Orgasm" or some-such, exited the bar wearing a tiara.

On the night-lit sidewalk outside, her man asked, "Do you fake orgasms that way with your husband?" The role-play, which had been suggested by a marriage therapist they'd seen, called for them to pretend they were both married to different people, which lie his question played on.

"Are you sure that was fake?" she said to her husband of her performance at the bar moments earlier.

Complicatedly plotted movie. Not great, but entertaining. Even Nelson, a film artist, laughed through his disdain at Hollywood commercialism.

In fact, I did wonder if Akemi had been faking. The screams, deep in-breaths had come seemingly from thin air.

Then we fucked. That was when we got to the "robot position."

I played with Akemi's breasts.

"Good thing you had the mammography. Then I don't worry about any strange lumps."

"Did you feel something?"

"No, I mean it's good not having to worry about finding one."

Akemi'd thought she had and got it checked and the all-clear, a relief to us both.

I held her nipples with my fingertips to move her breasts in circles.

We turned on our sides and Akemi warned me, "About to fall off."

I turned my head and saw the edge of the bed close.

We shifted as one to the center.

I came on top and drove it home, supporting myself with one hand planted to the sheet. On and on. I thanked my lucky stars I go to the gym, could drive on and on, not run out of steam at my age. Akemi depended on me sustaining that rhythm for her pleasure. She was panting, her head thrown back. I tried not to look or would have come then and there. Her womanliness was on full display, risen to the surface, fierce and appealing as a lion, a jungle creature, face come through bushes, surrounded by broad deep-green leaves and their shadows. She looked at once overwhelmed by nature and in thorough command of it, enthralled by the elements. I looked down instead saw her bush and her supple torso undulating with me. No cool-down there either! I felt the cum rushing, out of my control.

To distract myself, build time for us, I thought of an evening at the college, one when there was an event Akemi wouldn't attend but I had to. We said goodbye on the sidewalk outside. She walked away. I took a few steps toward the night-lit building- it was still early evening but the lights were already on, people socializing inside- I too would be soon. The scene looked inviting, with windows aglow, yellow in the dark blue low structure.

I turned around, though, well before reaching the glass-doored entrance, looked at Akemi's figure on the path leading away beside lawn grass and shrubbery- her thighs looked rubbery; that is, packed with tensile strength, glimmering in the dark stockings into which they were packed. The path extending into open space with no one else there, and on impulse I followed, caught up with her, said, "Let me at least walk you to the train station."

Light snow had been falling. A film of it covered the pavement, just enough to turn the surface white.

I was able to hold on. Eventually I paused. Akemi laughed, thinking I had from fatigue. True I was breathing hard.

Afterward, Akemi insisted on going down on me.

I don't mean to show off about my sexual exploits. This is just what happened.

So yeah, I'm married to Akemi and Nelson isn't. Yeah, I sent him those photos of her sucking a popsicle that he asked for, but I not he had the ones of her really performing fellatio- and she'd stopped short of agreeing to more shots for Nelson, sensing- correctly, of course- he'd want those.

I took some onto the desktop last night, good ones of her face in the glowing warm interior light (evening), her skin bronze in that coruscating evening deep light, of my cock just the head visible, shot close up; she had only the top covered, wasn't deep sucking in those particular ones; her mouth, her lips appeared at funny angles in more than one. Nelson had told me to send all the popsicle photos, even those I didn't think were successful- he said he'd find something in them too, and I could see what he meant.

Akemi's friend had called. I'd taken the phone, spoke a bit with Mai, then handed it to Akemi. Moments later she came into the bedroom, still speaking with Mai to get something she'd asked for, had called about.

Walking through the room to get whatever the thing Mai wanted ("Excuse me," light on her feet, delightful) came around to the front of the monitor. I hadn't expected her and was slightly caught off guard by the prospect of her finding me looking the fellatio photos, even though she'd agreed to my taking them, didn't mind- she's not a prude. It was the timing that threw me. And what would she say to her friend on the line then?

I managed to remove most of the shots, but in the two or three strides it took Akemi to come around front I couldn't close them all. When she glanced at the screen, a single image remained. She would see it, no helping that. Unsure which photo was left, I looked with her and saw that by chance or luck or what have you it wasn't a sexy one, at least not explicit (virtually any image of Akemi is erotic in my eyes). The shot was from the same group as the others but by pure accident didn't include my penis- which made it just a photo of Akemi, straight-on view of her face nearly filling the frame, and a good portrait, as luck would have it. I felt glad of that. Really nice one, suffused with warm liquid light- looked like the kind you see underwater- that showed the modeling of her skin, its suppleness, depth of color. You could all but feel her heat. Akemi looked soulful, deeply lovable in the picture, and in the flesh too.

She and her friend Mai kept talking, the mood not jolted by the discovery that I was looking at a photographic representation of her even as the real woman appeared before me. She smiled, laughed, maybe about something they'd been discussing- I couldn't tell; the conversation was in their language.

She acknowledged me, smiled as she looked around for the thing Mai had asked after (a notebook, it turned out to be, one in which she kept handwritten notes, dates, a record of events; small, hand-holdable, with a hard plain light brown cardboard cover). In no hurry to leave after finding the thing, she circled through the room, notebook in one hand phone in the other. We couldn't talk because she was engaged with her friend, but she was very cognizant of my presence, sort of parading before me, knowing I'd like having at one and the same time the view of both her and the photo of her. I think she enjoyed the circumstance. She'd divert her attention from Mai to cast me a flirtatious glance, amused by my habits, my infatuation with her. If you saw, you'd understand.

Because it was early evening, light outside fading, Akemi's eyes had shadows under them, giving her a slightly raccoon-like look. No, words can't do her justice, at least not those I write. You'd have to see the pictures too, better yet, see Akemi. Although I've written so much about her you might have a pretty good sense by now.

Maybe Nelson could produce a likeness. He's the artist after all.. I'm laughing as I add this, and if it's bitter laughter I think you understand.