The Night Poet

The Night Poet

"The night is the hardest time to be alive and 4am knows all my secrets." - Poppy Z Brite

Nelly's body glowed like a piece of polished marble in the moonlight pouring through the window. She lay naked on her stomach near the edge of the bed with her knees bent, gently rubbing her feet together in a slow caress. The silky strands of her ash-blonde hair blurred seamlessly into the milky whiteness of her skin.

Her beauty was magic.

I reached out and cupped my hand over the soft warmth of her behind. Her back arched as she propped herself up on both elbows. Creamy white shoulders pushed forward, her breasts swayed from the movement. I swept my hand over the roundness of her rump then down the back of her tender thigh.

"Mmmmm, that feels good," she cooed.

I worked my hand back up to her behind then caressed the other side.

"You're so soft, you know that?"

"Thank you," she replied in a voice embellished with innocence.

The ends of her hair glimmered in the lunar radiance that filled the room. Her face had the soft roundness of a China doll. She was half Swedish and half Dutch, and I was trying to discern which parts of her came from each side. Round face-Dutch; gentle slope for a nose- Swedish; ashen blonde hair-both; creamy white skin-Dutch; curvy lips-Dutch; ice blue eyes- both. She was not athletic, but not flabby either. Her medium-sized breasts filled my hand. Soft pink nipples that hardened only slightly when aroused. Her hair always gave off a sweet, flowery smell, even after sex when the rest of her did not.

My hand travelled over the curve of her rump then up into the valley of her lower back. Here the flesh was harder, the skin tighter.

"Keep going," she begged softly.

"You like that?"

"Very much."

"So how did you learn to speak such good English?" I asked. Her English was delivered with the intonation of any typical 19-year old American girl.

"I don't know, we lived in Chicago for some years when I was like ten years old."

"Your parents move there for work?"

"Yeah, my dad. He's some kind of international finance guy. Not sure what he does, exactly. Has to do with banking. Since we moved a lot, I guess I inherited a wanderlust. I'm still trying to find my place in this world."

"Well, you seem pretty grounded to me. You're very mature for your age," I replied, moving my hand up her back then down to the soft mound of her buttocks. "You know you got a really nice ass."

"Don't embarrass me," she replied with a slight giggle.

"Sorry, didn't mean to. It was intended as a compliment."

"Okay, I'll take it."

I slipped the end of my pinky into the cleft of her bum as I ran my hand up and down the fleshy globe. Her stark white butt reminded me of two scoops of vanilla ice cream. There was a long moment of silence as I continued to caress her velvety skin. Our lovemaking had been intense. For a nineteen year old, she had an adept awareness of her body that was beyond her years. She knew exactly how to sync our rhythms, when to lead and when to follow. Our bodies melded together into one, riding each wave of pleasure until its climactic end.

Then she broke the silence, "Wanna be my favorite person and give me a back rub?"

"I'll try, but I'm not sure about how good of a masseur I am."

"Well, if you're only half as good at giving massages as you are at making love to me, then I'm in for a treat."

"Okay, so now I'm the one who's embarrassed."

"Good one," she shot back.

I laughed.

She scooted over towards the center of the bed and I swung a leg over her and sat on the backs of her thighs. My softening member poked harmlessly against the upward slope of her rump. Wet drops of semen from my recent ejaculation dabbed her skin like a magic marker. She offered no reaction.

My head was spinning from our previous exertions; images of our most impassioned moments flashed through my head. I vowed to memorize them. My line of sight was now at the same height of the window and I looked out into the blue night. Tiny specs of snow sparkled in the moonlight as they spiraled in the wind. A few of them glanced against the cold glass as if trying to get in.

"That feels so good," she moaned as I started to rub her upper back.

"Hmm, I want to make you feel good."

"You're doing a wonderful job." She lay with her head turned to the left, her right cheek pressed into the mattress. Her eyes were closed.

I pressed my fingers harder into the muscles of her back. She purred gently with each depression.

"Oh God, don't stop."

I worked my way down the center of her back then pressed my thumbs into the long muscles running along her spine.

"Oh yes, just like that....You really are a pro at dispensing pleasure, " she murmured.

I bent down and kissed the side of her face. Her hair tickled my nose. I studied the delicate upward turn of her nose.

"Dispense, now that's a curious word," I remarked.

"W-h-a-t-t-t...Are making fun of me? DId I say wrong?"

"No, not at all. It must be the poet in you."

She giggled. "I guess, I love beauteous words."

"Is 'beautious' a word?"

"It is. It's not common, but it's a real word."

"You sure about that?"

"One hundred percent."

"Okay, you're the poet."

The conversation drifted off into silence as I continued to massage her back. The feeling of her supple skin against my hands started to get me aroused. I looked down at my growing prick. It rubbed up and down her ass every time I pushed my hands into her back. The motions nursed it back to life. I reached down and gave it a few strokes.

"What are you doing?" she asked, turning around.

"You're so beauteous," I whispered.

"Oh my God, you're mad, you know that?"

"I know."

She raised her hips slightly then opened her legs. The musky fragrance from her garden rose and filled my nostrils. My prick was now fully alive, I grabbed the base of my throbbing erection then rubbed it up and down her moistening slit.

"Eat me first."

I let go of my piece of engorged flesh then sunk my head into the searing wetness of her valley. Burying my face into her, I lapped away at her swollen labia.

"Oh my God, Casey...yes, eat me! I've wanted you to do this to me for so long."

Encouraged by her reaction, I took the flap of one of her outer lips into my mouth and sucked on the jelly-like flesh then found the swollen nub of her clitoris. Juices oozed from her center and I licked them up with my fluttering tongue. The taste of her was intoxicating and I wanted more. I swirled my tongue up to the flower of her anus and flicked the tip across her rigid opening.

"Fuck, that feels so good"! She cried out. She rarely swore, only during sex.

I stiffened my tongue then thrust it up into her puckered hole.

"Fuck!"

"Do you like that?"

"Oh my God, yes! Keep going."

I complied with her wish and proceeded to tongue-fuck her ass. She had managed to spread her legs wide allowing me to work my face between her legs. I grabbed both cheeks of her ass and alternated between tonguing her gaping anal tunnel and delivering pleasure to her gushing vulva. My nose and cheeks were burned raw from the course pubic hair. I pulled back to gulp at some air. Her pungent juices covered my face. I wiped my chin then returned to her honey pot.

Nelly then lifted up on her knees and looked back at me. "Make love to me. I want you inside me." She was in such a state of arousal, she was almost crying.

I got up on my knees while she raised her hips. Accepting her offer, I sunk into her with a plop like an anvil being dropped into a river.

"Unhhh," she crooned.

I grabbed her hips and pressed deeper into the searing wetness of her lubricious slit. Flesh met flesh. Our movements synced. Passions escalated. She met my every thrust with a crashing recoil that begged for more. I pumped harder responding to her demands, offering her everything I had. Although I was in the dominant position, she had the ability to take over and lead me to where she wanted to go; modifying the tempo with a subtle skillfulness I had never experienced before. A poet. Her lovemaking was pure art. The straight line of her back curved slightly as she turned her head to look backwards.

"Take me, Casey! Take me!"

I pumped my hips harder. The raw smack of skin against skin echoed throughout the room. Moonlight screamed through the window and seemed to join forces with the high-pitched shrieks now coming from Nelly.

"Come inside me!" she huffed.

Her head convulsed wildly, waves of blonde hair tossed in the shimmering moonlight. What happened next, I will never forget.

Her head thrust backwards. She let out a quivering scream. Like an animal. "Oh God! Come with me!"

I had been holding back, trying to make this incredible experience last as long as I could. Her insides spasmed. I burst like a dam. A torrent of liquid spilled into her. A violent explosion that came from deep inside my body as much from my loins. She let out a deep beastial howl, then buried her face in the mattress. Her insides relaxed for an instant. Finger-like streams of her juices trickled down her thighs. I pushed back into her and convulsed one last time. This time her reaction was a soft, muffled whimper.

I withdrew my spent member out of her slowly, like an eel being pulled from a dark, underwater hole.

About an hour passed. It was the cold that woke me. We had collapsed into each other's arms and lay in virtually the same position where we fell. The night outside was thickening, but the moon still raged. I grabbed at the covers at the foot of the bed and started to pull them over us.

"Wait." Nelly's voice.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked.

"Yes, but hold on for a second. There's something I gotta do first."

I was expecting her to head into the bathroom to pee, but instead she pulled on a dark red robe and headed to the window. There was a small notebook and pen sitting on the window sill. She picked them up and fixed her eyes on something outside.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"It's something I do every night."

"And what is that?"

"I look out the window every night before going to bed and write about what I see."

"Don't you see the same thing every time? I mean how much can it change?"

"You should try it sometime. You'd be surprised about what you learn."

"About myself, or about what's outside?"

She looked at me and smiled. "That's up to you."

"So it's a kind of poetry?"

"In a way. Shhhhh...give me a few minutes to write. We'll talk more about it later."

I lay back and let her write, trying not to watch her thinking it would interfere with her process. The sound of her pen scratching across the paper with the moon falling across her face had a kind of magical effect. I closed my eyes.

The mattress jiggled, I felt her warmth.

"Sorry, I fell asleep," I mumbled.

"That's okay," she replied as she pulled the thick covers over us.

"So how did it go?" I asked.

"Good, I suppose."

"What do you mean, 'I suppose'?"

"I never think of my writings as either good or bad. They just are."

"And what will you do with all these nightly writings, put them into a collection or something?"

"I don't know. Maybe take bits and pieces from each one and weave them into a poem some day. Like an exquisite corpse."

"Like a what corpse?"

"An exquisite corpse."

"Sounds dreadful."

A small laugh. "It's an artistic form, the original French term is, cadavre exquis. It is a method where you take bits and pieces of words or images and collectively assemble them."

"Sounds interesting. I'd like to see the finished project some day. Can I read some of your stuff now?"

"Well...not right now. It's kind of private. Maybe someday."

Her use of the phrase,'some day.' inferred that she thought we were going to have some kind of long term future together.

"Do you mostly write at night?"

"It's usually the only time I write."

"So that's when the creative juices flow best, huh?"¨

"Oh God, please don't say 'creative juices' - that is so cliche'."

"Okay, sorry."

Her face was drawn, like I had insulted her. She continued, "There's something magic about the night, like it's the only time when people are really honest with themselves. It's when secrets are not really secrets."

"Wow, that's beautiful."

Nelly snuggled up into the crook of my arm and lay her head on my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair where traces of flowery shampoo still lingered.

"So, I have the distinct pleasure of having made love to the city's famous queen of darkness, Nelly the Night Poet."

"And don't you feel privileged."

"Absolutely."

"So, will you stay with me tonight?"

"Yes," I replied, kissing her head. She nestled into me harder.

"So, she's away again?"

"Yes. Business trip."

"Don't you miss her?"

A long pause, then, "Yes."

"I don't want to know her name. Never mention her name, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered.

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why can't we be together?"

"It's complicated."

"You know, I'll never ask you to leave her. That's up to you. You have to decide what you want. I'm here for you, but I need to know where this is going. I mean, I can't wait around forever. I need to get on with my life."

"You're only nineteen."

"So what? And you're already thirty. I don't want to be used like some toy. I love you, why can't we be together?"

'Already' thirty. Another curious choice of words.

A bus grumbled by outside. The crunch of tires cutting through packed snow popped briefly as the bus pulled away from the curb. A group of late night partiers alighted, their whooping laughter echoed through the streets.

"I don't think you'd understand."

"Yeah, I'm just a fucking kid. I admit. There's so much I still don't understand."

"But you seem so mature for your age, I feel like I can talk to you about so many things I can't talk to others about."

"You mean like your wife?"

"That's not fair."

Silence.

"Or maybe you're just punching above your weight class," I added.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sorry. It's an American sports term. It's used to describe a boxer who competes in a higher weight division to fight boxers who are bigger and stronger. It is a metaphor to describe someone who is competing out of their league."

"Metaphor, huh?" Now look at who's the poet.

I laughed. She didn't.

"Yeah, the only friend who knows about us is Val, and she says I'm fucking with the big boys now."

"And what does that mean? Sounds like you have a history."

"She knows I'm very sexual, but I never fucked a married guy before."

"And how does it feel?"

"I have to admit. Guys my age suck at sex."

"Yeah, I was probably like that too when I was their age."

"Gets better with age, huh?"

"I guess. It's not like it's something I consciously work on. You just get more tuned in to your body and the needs of others. I suppose sex is kinda like poetry?"

"Sex IS poetry," she exclaimed.

"Well, there you go. Can't I read ANY of your stuff?"

She smiled big then nibbled on my ear. Despite the warm moistness of her breath, I felt shivers.

"Will you come in my mouth?"

"Yes..." I whispered.

Slow kisses, starting at my chest. Her tongue circling my nipples. Pushing away the covers she knelt over me and then continued kissing and licking her way down my body. Her lips. Warm, gentle, and soft. They lured me into a trance.

She was now straddling my thighs. Her head lowered, hair tickled my belly. The tip of her tongue lightly circled the head of my cock. After a few minutes, a flash of blonde hair, her head shot up. She looked at me but did not smile. Her face had the look of a seductress or femme fatale.

She slid down off my thighs and leaned over my hips, then ran her fingers up and down the underside of my swelling member.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes."

"I like doing things to you that make you feel good."

I was transfixed on the sound of her voice. Hushed and airy.

With her eyes locked onto mine, she grabbed my cock with an underhanded grip then slowly ran her tongue up and down the side of my shaft.

"You do that so good," I said softly.

"Just lay back and enjoy,"

She then lifted up the shaft of my cock then slowly and methodically licked my balls. The wetness of her tongue swabbed over the sensitive skin of my testicles, then flicked back up to my swelling prick. The long slow choreograph of her tongue made me shake with anticipation. I wanted so much for her to put the whole thing into her sweet young mouth.

Then finally, she opened wide and fit her wet lips over the engorged head. I almost came right there and then, but I did all I could to make the sensation pass and make the moment last.

She grabbed the base of my cock then worked her head up and down offering more pressure with each suck. Every now and then, she would glance up at me.

"Yes, just like that," I encouraged her.

Her pace quickened. The intensity of her efforts got more wild until they reached a frantic crescendo. Just when I felt I was going to burst, she pulled away. She knelt there panting. Then wiped her mouth. Her hands clutched around the base of my cock, the urge passed.

"Don't come, I'm not done yet," she uttered through labored breath.

"I'll try not to, but you're so damned good, it's going to be hard."

"Just let me lead, okay?"

"Okay."

She bent down and took my cock into her mouth again. This time she pushed it deep into her throat and held it there while looking up at me with big wild eyes. After a few seconds she pulled it out and gulped at some air. Back down her throat. Now out again. More air. She deep-throated me a few more times until thick mucous ran down her chin and dripped onto her chest.

She went back to licking my balls while gently pumping my cock. I felt her tongue drift lower and lower until she was licking the tender skin between my scrotum and anus. I tilted my pelvis upwards and her tongue shot into my asshole. The feeling was so overwhelming I almost came, but she clenched the base of my shaft again and warded off the instinct to ejaculate.

She ate my ass with slow fat pulls of her tongue, occasionally flickering the tip across my opening with the delicacy of a butterfly flapping its wings. I had never felt anything this good before. I couldn't believe she was only nineteen.

"Okay, I'm ready for you now," she said panting as she pulled her head up from between my legs. "Come hard in my mouth, I want you to give it all to me."

With that, she lay down in between my legs and took me into her mouth. There was nothing delicate nor poetic about it this time. She sucked furiously. Loud slurping sounds came and went as she devoured my cock with her hungry mouth. The bottom bed sheet pulled away from the edges of the mattress as I held on while she worked on bringing me to climax. It didn't take long.

A burning sensation started down near my rectum then rose up towards my belly button. I let out a wail as my cock exploded. Her throat contracted as she devoured my erupting juice. I convulsed again and filled her mouth with molten lava from deep inside my body. Again and again I came in successive waves, and each time she gobbled at my seed, sending it down her throat.

When it was over, I lay back, unable to move. She slinked up to my side and lay her head on my chest.

"Oh my God, that was good," I remarked.

"Hmmm, I'm glad you liked it."

"Now that was poetry. Pure poetry."

"Yes...." Her mouth found mine and we kissed. The smell of my come on her breath.

We lay in silence for a while enjoying each other's warmth. The window was now dark. There was no more moon.

"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?" she asked.