The Monster Within Ch. 02

"Anything worthy to watch?" she asked.

"Nothing yet. Why don't you zap through? Maybe you find something you like? I switched back to the first channel and handed her the remote.

"No. Noooo. Igitt. Horrible. Old. Even older. No. No. No. No. She stalled at the SyFy-Channel.

"Babylon 5? Interesting but not in the middle of season three." She continued to zap.

"Bev, why don't you go over to the second cupboard from the right, open it and see if you find some DVD you like?" I grinned. If she knew Babylon 5 well enough to correctly identify and place a three second scene, she might like that cupboard.

"Holy Captain Kirk," she exclaimed, "you're quite the Science Fiction nerd, aren't you?"

"Guilty as accused."

"Here, I found something." She held up '2001. A Space Odyssey.'

"Great, put it in," I opened the DVD-player with the remote.

"You'll hear that very sentence later tonight at least once."

She was a tease, a really insatiable tease.

I growled jokingly at her, "Loads of promises but very little action. You could become a politician."

That caught her attention. She had just put the DVD in the player and turned back towards the couch. As I had a one and a half metre flat screen TV the couch was roughly five metres away. Sandra and I hadn't saved space when we built the house. Beverly put on the most seductive walk she could muster, swinging her hips extensively, moving straight towards me. I almost expected her to jump me right then and there but instead she moved aside at the last moment and snuggled in on my left side, leaning her head against the side of my chest, pushing her right arm in behind my back, hugging me.

I was just about to relax and enjoy the movie when her left hand started moving in my crotch. She firmly rubbed back and forth, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. Nothing else just firmly rubbing back and forth. Some minutes later she stopped the rubbing and moved her hand under the towel, possessively gripping my hard-on, moving slowly up and down my shaft. After a few more minutes she sensed my lower body tense up, so she immediately slowed her movement even further to cool me down. I started to realise what I had gotten myself into. Payback time.

When she decided I had sufficiently recuperated she re-intensified her caresses. When I tensed, she slowed again. After keeping this up for some time she bent down and softly started kissing the head of my cock. It replied with a pleased jerk, trying to lure her closer. But again, she eased off. She gently tickled my balls leaving my cock twitching in the air, pleading for attention. She took the head in her mouth, softly sucking it, still caressing my balls. My mind went into sensory overload, ignoring all input except for Beverly's manipulations. She felt me tense up and quickly eased on her ministrations. She waited until the tension left my body and then slowly took most of my length in her mouth. She held still, feeling I was back on the brink of cumming.

When she felt I had cooled down enough, she pulled up, licking my head for a second and then suddenly plunged down, taking me deep into her throat, making one swallowing motion. She withdrew. She immediately eased on her caresses, knowing she had almost spoiled the fun. She continued to tease me for an eternity, my brain shut totally down, nothing existed but her tender touches on my cock, my glans, my balls, the kisses, the tongue play, the mouth, the throat, the swallowing motions. She slowed when I got closer to the brink, she intensified when I had cooled down. Then, finally, her movement increased in urgency, I could feel a new determination in her actions, she started going down on my cock in earnest, taking me deep into her throat.

"Cumming..." I croaked unnecessarily. She had just kept me on the edge forever and didn't need me stating the obvious. She firmly gripped the base of cock, bobbed her head up and down on my cock, stopped with the shaft halfway into her mouth, released the grip at the base and started a jerking motion.

"Oh, yesssssssssssssssssss, " I screamed out my release as I came and came and came, firing my load into her mouth, jet after jet, more than I thought she'd be able to handle but I didn't care, I couldn't care as I still spurted cum out my cock. When I was finally spent, she sat up a bit, waited for me to open my eyes and look at her and with one big gulp she swallowed the entire load, not a single drop was spilled.

Somewhere far away I heard the last few accords of the outro song of '2001'. She had pleasured me for the entire movie.

I just lay there, totally spent and breathing deeply.

"That was... was..." I fell quiet for a short time searching for a suitable word to express myself.

"Wow." I finally said. "That was wow. No, not true. That wasn't wow. That was WOW."

She leaned in, grabbed me around my chest and hugged me hard, "I told you, you'd pay."

I grinned as I remember her reply to me in the tub, "That was an insufficient warning. Just wait until I can move again and I will repay you in kind."

We both laughed, enjoying the others presence, holding each other for comfort, forming a frail connection somewhere deep inside.

A few minutes later, I still felt unable to move, Bev got up.

"Time to get your surprise. You sit here and recover. I'll be ready in half an hour or so." She wrapped her towel around her body and left. I heard her go upstairs, rummaging in the closet. Shortly after she came back in the room, dressed in the T-shirt I had given her yesterday. I got a feeling I'd never get to wear it myself again but at the same time I had to admit that it looked so much better on her than on me. She brought my tablet as well as a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt.

"You may dress, a little bit."

"Yes, missus, thank you, missus, as you wish, missus."

She grinned and air-kissed me, "But please stay here, don't move more than necessary. I'll call you when I'm ready."

I wondered what her surprise would be. I started to get hungry. I heard her go downstairs, open the door, grab something rustling and climb back up. She went directly to the kitchen. I dressed as good as I could with the clothes provided, took the tablet and started by checking my emails and sending a quick notice of the latest developments regarding the assault, the charges and the confessions to my lawyer. I then proceeded to my favourite entertainment sites, not prepared for more serious down-to-earth news.

A few minutes later I heard cooking sounds and smelled roasting meat. Where did she get that from? I just hoped she hadn't raided the dogs fridge as that was just cheap meat from local butchers they couldn't sell otherwise because it either wasn't tender or meagre enough. I knew the fridge in the kitchen was empty but as my blood slowly arrived as far up as my brain, I remembered her phone call and that she had gone to the front door. I decided to do as I was told and stay here and relax. I would find out in due time.

Roughly half an hour after she had left, she looked into the media room.

"Dinner's ready! Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?"

Tease. I grinned, "I'll manage. Barely, but I'll manage."

I made a big show of getting up, acting geriatric. I followed her into the kitchen where Beverly had served everything at the table.

"Bev, that looks absolutely delicious! Where did you get all the ingredients?"

"I asked Esther to do some shopping. She was happy to help."

She had prepared a small mixed side salad with lettuce, cucumber and corn topped by homemade croutons and dressing, a beef tenderloin, green beans rolled into a strip of bacon (no onions fortunately as I didn't like them) and pommes risolee. She had also whipped up some handmade herb butter. All in roughly thirty minutes. I quickly glanced over to see how messy the kitchen had got and was stunned to see it was at least as clean as before.

"How on earth did you manage to create this," I pointed towards the food, "in just half an hour, using this," I pointed into the kitchen, "and leaving it so clean? I think I'm not a bad cook myself but this meal would have taken me at least an hour to prepare and one more to clean away the mess."

"Well, maybe I'm just the more efficient cook than you are. But I can tell you it's wonderful to see that there is at least one thing I can do better than you. I was beginning to wonder. In the last thirty six hours, you've taken down three dangerous and violent criminals, saved my life in the process, had me treated like royalty in the hospital and by the police, made me feel safe and secure, showed me the greatest respect I can imagine, gathered a group of twenty people, moved my old apartment over here and made me cum so hard in the hot tub I almost passed out. Did I miss something? Oh yes, you had Esther's door repaired and improved, took care of her kids yesterday and keep the pack entertained. You make problem solving look so easy, you take everything in a stride without letting anything slow you down. I've started to feel severely inadequate."

"Well, I've seen a woman getting attacked by three criminals, getting almost killed in the process, having her life literally destroyed, balancing on the brink of annihilation and still showing a strength that most people I know don't possess from the start. She is showing more empathy in a minute than I do in a month, is caring, thoughtful, smart and so stunningly beautiful I have reflected on putting her on a pedestal and build a museum around her. She is coping with an extremely difficult and potentially life changing situation better than I could ever hope. And she is the most efficient cook south of the north-pole. And she has gifted me with the most astonishing, satisfying blow job which I will never forget, even if I lived to be two hundred years.

And now, let's taste the food. If it tastes only half as delicious as it looks, it will be the best meal I have eaten in a long time."

"Stunningly beautiful?" she smiled at me.

I laughed amused, "Really? That's all you heard of my speech? Women..."

And suddenly we were both laughing. I leaned in, gave her a peck on the lips and thanked her for preparing dinner. We ate, chatting amicably, talking about science fiction, science, movies, dogs and other happy topics and left all worries behind for the time being.

***

After dinner I suggested a walk. The sun had just settled and dusk was creeping up. We went on a rather short thirty-minute walk, holding hands. The pack was all around us, sniffing around, marking their territory. I didn't need to hand out commands. They knew the routine. We talked about the coming day. A Sunday.

"You really like to make plans."

"That's the main reason I, to quote a friend of mine, 'make problem solving look so easy and take everything in a stride without letting anything slow me down'. I plan in advance, I consider stumbling blocks, prepare back-up plans and remain flexible in case something unexpected turns up."

"Thank you!"

"For what?"

"For calling me a friend!" she pulled me closer, put her arms around me and hugged.

"We had three intense sexual encounters today. If that doesn't make you, at the very least, my friend, I've misunderstood the concept. And I thought it sounded weird to say 'a lover of mine' in that context."

I grinned at her. She slapped gently my upper arm.

"Can you ever be serious for more than two minutes at a time?"

"According to my former shrink 'it's a well-ingrained coping mechanism I developed to avoid going mad after I lost my family'. It was a close call as it was. Or maybe I'm just so mad that I don't even realise I'm mad."

"Esther told me the cornerstones. If you ever decided to tell the story I would feel really honoured to hear it. But only on your terms and voluntary. From what I heard I fully understand that it is a very sensible topic.

You still miss them, don't you?"

"Every minute of every hour of every day." Tears formed in my eyes. I frantically searched for new topic. "So, how often do use those gym machines we moved over?"

***

We sat on the couch and had just finished watching a quiz show.

"What do you think? Time for bed?" Beverly asked.

"Sounds about right."

I hesitated for the fraction of a second and turned off the TV. As we got up, I took the blankets we had used to snuggle in, folded them and laid them down orderly on the arm rest. I then took the towel which was still laying in the corner of the couch, the jug and the glasses and turned towards the kitchen.

"Are you always so tidy?" she enquired standing in the passage way watching me clean up.

"It's all about plans and routines. After Sandra's death the house used to be rather filthy in fact, until one day I decided to start some small routines, like not leaving tableware stand around, throwing empty packages away immediately and not later. This quickly showed effect and I just included more and more of these small routines. Nowadays I don't even reflect on it anymore, I just do it. That way I don't have to worry about tidying before the cleaning lady comes in on Wednesdays."

"If I may ask, what exactly do you do for a living? You are twenty seven years old, own a big house with a huge garden, have time to train ten dogs, can afford to feed them as well, stand in covering for the costs of a lawyer without a second thought, you allow yourself a cleaning lady but you haven't mentioned your job with a single word so far."

While I put the glasses into the dishwasher, I reflected on how to dodge the real question.

"Weeeeeellllll... A big part of the property originally belonged to my parents so I inherited it when my mother died and just bought the part between the original property boundaries and the lake. Then Sandra and I tore down the rather old building and built this house. So it's not really a big deal."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to but don't try to sell me on such a cheap answer. I'm not dumb."

"Bev, I'm sorry, I know you're a smart woman. Ok. Here are few corner stones of my fortune and my income but please even if you know more about me in a few minutes than you do now I'm still the same guy, trying hard to do the right things, keeping his feet on the ground."

"Now, I'm really curious."

"I mostly live from royalties of a small software application I wrote when I was sixteen. It optimises the use of multiple cores, multi-threading and parallel computing. Nowadays this piece of code is embedded in most operating systems and I get a payment for every OS installed.

I donate most of the income generated. I've made a few direct donations like funding the start-up of the women's clinic but that has put me to much in the spotlight for my liking. Mostly I've set up anonymous funds to support the underprivileged.

One is to pay for necessary medical treatments for people who cannot afford them. One is to provide help to surviving dependants of police officers killed or disabled in action. One provides funds for the orphanage and the education of the orphans. Another one provides funds to the ICRC, DWB and refugee supporting NGOs. And the latest and smallest provides funds for the animal shelter. Currently I'm planning on setting up another fund to pay living costs for children whose families cannot afford to send them to university. While education is essentially paid by taxes, the living costs can still put a strain on poor families if there is no suitable university nearby and they need to rent a room. Nobody ever learns where the money comes from.

Additionally I often work as a dog trainer both for private people and the police and sometimes I get hired as an IT consultant by some local SME and write small applications for smart phones. You know, the type which costs next to nothing but might be useful or fun: a shopping list app, a card game, a password protected diary and so on. A few of them are moderately successful but nothing like Angry Birds or the likes.

Money, fortunately, is nothing I need to worry about. My worries are to keep my identity secret, a low profile and fending off governmental approaches for all kinds of things I don't want to get involved with like attending charity events."

"But how could I, or anyone, live up to that standard? You are probably the most successful person I've ever met and nobody even knows just how successful you are."

"Money is not a standard, money is not a sign of character, intelligence or maturity. I was lucky, extremely lucky, from an economical point of view. I had one huge hit which provides me with everything I need or want, but I have more than one failing. I have absolutely no understanding for the fine arts and a huge deficit when it comes to empathy for example. I can see if somebody is really distraught, like you yesterday, but I have difficulties to see small signals. A bit like Sheldon Cooper from the TV series 'The Big Bang Theory' but not to that extreme.

I usually don't understand why people get upset over seemingly nothing. She didn't reply to your text? So what? But here, have a hot cup of tea..." I joked, referring to Sheldon Cooper again.

"You've provided me with a lot more than a cup of tea! In fact, you have provided anything but cup of tea for the full two days!"

"Forgive my shortcomings, milady," I switched back to my more jovial personality and bowed, again. "May I offer you a cup of tea?"

"No, you may not. But you may take me to your bed," she smiled, taking the assigned role of the noble woman. I pulled her close and kissed her, softly, caring, respectfully. She returned the kiss, more demanding than I was, more intense. We moved towards the stairs and the bedroom. I slowed down a bit half way up the stairs, anxious of the events clearly looming on the horizon.

"Stan, anything wrong?" she enquired turning around looking into my eyes. I took a deep breath, avoided her eyes.

"I have not been with a woman for more than four years. Since Sandra died. And before I have only ever been with her. I've never been the one to collect marks on my bedpost. I was happy to be with the woman I loved. You seem so much more experienced, not slutty or easy, don't get me wrong, just more experienced. I'm afraid of your expectations, of my expectations, of failure, of inadequacy."

My voice got quieter while I spoke. Beverly took a step down, still standing two steps above me, pulled me in an embrace, softly holding my head against the top of her breasts.

"Stan, I don't think you could fail me even if you tried. I know that men can be very insecure about 'performing' in bed. I do not expect a 'porn star performance' or that you hammer me for an hour straight. Just be yourself, forget all my teasing from earlier because, honestly, that was just me trying to hide my own insecurities. This is not about making each other cum or 'being a great fuck'. This is about sharing, caring, exploring, maybe even loving. It doesn't matter if you penetrate me at all, cum within a few seconds or after a long time. I want to be with you, hold you, taste you, feel you, touch you and I want you to be with me, hold me, feel me and touch me. Nothing else. That's all I desire."

She took my hand and gently pulled me up the last few steps. She turned us around and steered us to the bed until my calves touched the mattress and gave me a soft push on the chest. I fell into a sitting position. She followed, kneeling over my thighs, straddling my hips, taking my face in her hands and kissing me. Soft, caring touches, requesting a reply but waiting patiently. I reacted and returned the kiss. She became more demanding, used more strength. Our tongues went from dancing to wrestling. My hands started to explore her upper body, massaging her lower back, her blade bones, her neck, moving back down, firmly gripping her perfect butt cheeks, back up, taking hold of her breasts, kneading them, stroking them through her shirt.