Tymon Takes Anna Ch. 02

"So that's Anna," I said in conclusion. "I'll see her again Monday, I don't know if I'm bringing her here or going there but it should be the right time for her cycle."

Tullie brought her head up and off my cock and just licked at the tip a bit and looked at and me contemplatively. "Even filling her up all those times on Thursday, yeah, there probably won't be any little swimmers left in her by Monday, they don't last that long."

"True. But I've got all day Monday. I can fill her womb and her stomach and her ass and still have enough to paint her head to toe."

She licked at the tip again and then leaned forward a little bit; she rested it against her face, enjoying the heat from the bloodflow. She looked at me and sighed. "You really trust Anna, don't you." It didn't sound like a question.

"I've known Anna for years. She's great."

"Yeah, she seems great. But if you will indulge me for a moment let's talk about that. And I'm not talking about just having a kid with her. The Kim idea is a really sweet one anyway. Super adorable. You should give her a girl if you can."

"Afraid I can't control that."

"That's ok, I'm sure another little boy will be a handful too."

"We usually are."

She turned her head and kissed the side of my shaft. "Unless they're talking about the bomb you are definitely not a little boy."

I twitched it in her hand, pushing slightly against her face. She smiled, then continued. "What I really meant was that you told her an awful lot."

"She'll keep our secrets. She likes a little drama but she won't blow up her family."

"Even if you hadn't said a word you told her a lot, though." She punctuated her way through the list with a kiss on the side of my shaft after each sentence. "She knows you did something to remove her gag reflex and it wasn't just giving her a titty twister, you just did that for fun and she probably knows that too. She knows you did something to put Alexander to sleep and keep him that way, without ever being in the same room. She knows you came more often and got harder again faster than anyone she's ever met and she's going to count those up and conclude you're from Krypton. Unless you did something to help her, she's probably so sore she can't walk, but if you did might notice that too. She knows you're a big guy but she probably didn't expect you to be able to heave her around like Hercules. And if she's the introspective sort, she either knows or will realize that this whole thing is kind of out of place for her, to go from a loyal suffering wife happy with the brood she has, to turn into your total slut who does whatever you want including planning to bear another man's children in the course of a day. Heck, maybe her neighbors noticed your car, or heard the two of you when she got loud, or her husband might get suspicious, or her son, or whoever it was who dropped him off." She paused, gave a few more kisses along my cock, then remembered one more thing. "And I know it was fun to tell her about Kim's kids but that's also one of those little secrets you're better off leaving just for my bedtime stories."

That... was a pretty good list. I thought back to Zoltan's advice about keeping a low profile and realized I wasn't really being as cautious as I used to. I looked at her. "That all sounds right. Let me think about that for a minute."

She nodded. She didn't say anything else, but she was thinking "or you could just turn her heat back down and make sure she's quiet about all this and she could be an occasional fun toy without any breeding complications." But she knew I wasn't ready to hear that advice quite yet and she knew I might be looking between her ears but she wasn't blinking at me to try and signal me that I should.

"Suck me while I think about that," I ordered, and she glanced at the clock and noted that she still had most of an hour to her meeting, so bent her head to her task and slowly deepthroated me, watching me as my cock glided in and out of her mouth. It was delightfully distracting and I'd say it helped me concentrate but it didn't, it just helped me not be annoyed at myself. And I tried not to be annoyed at all, she was helping, I had been kind of careless, I shouldn't be angry about it. I mean, angry rough sex was fun, hell, it was great, and that would be a nice distraction. But I could tell Tullie was a little worried that this was what she was about to get. And I didn't want to shoot the messenger. Well, I wanted to shoot my load in the messenger, but that's not always the same thing, and fine, this might be a good time to actually practice self control and not just ignore it for fun sex, since she was right, that was what was getting me into this danger zone.

I was pretty sure Anna was infatuated and she was my friend, she'd protect me. But Tullie was probably right. What if her flame dimmed? What if she felt neglected or jilted, I'd seen enough relationships turn sour and people become treacherous; no enemy like a previous friend. Yes, Tullie was right.

I lay back and enjoyed her hot mouth and the bouncing of her lovely red hair and the swaying of her tits and her longing looks as she gazed up at me with her mouth full.

"OK, you've been thinking about this too. Let me know what you have in mind." Her eyes twinkled, as I tuned in to her thoughts I could tell she was amused by my double entende of "in mind" -- for once, not a suggestive one! But she organized her thoughts and tried to make them clear for me.

"You could just go turn her temperature down. Have her think pregnancy is something to be avoided. Let her think this was a good time but just the fling she needed to scratch her itch. Turn off all that horny stuff you always put in your girls heads when you get worked up and want them to get more worked up and let her just be the Anna you knew last week. Or maybe let her occasionally booty call you but make her beg for it."

"Yeah, although she'd be weirded out about it for a while, and I suspect she'd get mental about it and start avoiding me, and I'd rather not lose her as a friend."

Tullie thought about that. "Can you make her forget the details or dismiss it as a pleasant dream?"

"Forgetting things is a broad brush. Not reliably, not without overdoing it, and it's best done in the moment not after the fact. And again, I don't want to lose her as a friend, so I don't want to blunder around inside her head trying to scrub out the details and worry about what else I might be muddling or erasing."

She agreed and was a little alarmed as to my description of that; she probably was overimagining it but I didn't really know for sure how it worked either. "OK, how about you just give her a few key directives, like what not to tell people, that she isn't going to look into how you do what you do, you know -- shut up and get back in the kitchen woman, I'm sure the Polish must have as much of a history of barefoot and pregnant as the Irish do."

I laughed as her thoughts formed. She twinkled her eyes at me. "I'd like to be barefoot and pregnant. Oh God you just heard me think that."

I laughed again and told her "Just because you're barefoot all the time doesn't mean I'd be nibbling on your feet all the time."

Her thoughts were suddenly a jumble of "oh god if you were nibbling on my feet all the time" and "probably would be pregnant all the time" and "why not I'm sucking your cock every time I turn around."

And then her thoughts wryly morphed into "it's really not fair that I can't even keep my thoughts to myself even when I'm trying not to blurt things out". She didn't seem bitter about it or anything, but there was some truth to the thought.

I caressed Tullie's head and of course I teased her. "No it's not fair at all. Poor you. What a rough life. No one in history has ever suffered so tragically as to have their husband actually know what they want."

She rolled her eyes and thought "it's not like that" but was having trouble coalescing her thoughts as to what she did mean.

So I teased her further. "Oh, I see, what you actually want is for Anna to suck your toes too."

"Um well ok yes that please. Hey, I wasn't even thinking that."

"But now you are."

"But now I am."

"Mmmm, and next you'll be thinking me licking one foot and her the other and you in the middle just enjoying it all. Menage a toes."

"Oh my god. You are going to have to do that."

"OK, we'll make her do it."

"OK you can keep her." She reflected and stream-of-consciousness'ed into "look Mom the puppy followed me home can I keep her?" and there were some tangential thoughts about "Anna the puppy" and "heh that makes her Anna the bitch" and then Tullie was embarrassed about me hearing her thoughts again and became flustered.

"Anna will be fine. Don't stress it. She'll behave. Right now she really is my puppy but she's not going to go feral. I'll keep her in line if we need that. Even if it changes her, heck I supposed even if it knocks her completely askew then I can always just make her my brood mother and your toe slave. But let me think about it. We can probably come up with some better way."

She was still flustered. I told her "OK I'm going to think quietly and I'll leave your thoughts alone and leave you to focus on your cocksucking."

"Well I'm going to suck you so well you won't be able to think straight at all."

Tullie was probably right but I stopped focusing on being inside her head and just enjoyed, well, being inside her head. We might need some new words for this.

OK, damn, she was really going to town. My breath grew ragged as she worked the base of the shaft and swirled her tongue and took me deep. I tried to hold out but eventually I said a quiet "whoa" and came and came and then took several long slow deep breaths as Tullie made sure she'd gotten every drop and slowed down again.

"Keep sucking me. But let me think."

She set a steady rhythm of sucking up and down my shaft and lightly caressing my balls and it was lovely and amazing and only mostly distracting so I let my mind wander.

I reached back and thought.

Not for the first time I wondered what other things old Zoltan could have taught me. He was a strange mentor. I was pretty sure I wasn't actually his son; my parents had insisted that I'd been five and my sister nearly three when we first met him and his group. Might be fair to say they adopted us as Gypsies -- and don't take offense at the name, it's one they take pride in, if you call them Romany they'll mock you or if you're on especially good terms they'll correct you and tell you they're Welsh-Carpathian or whatever peculiar splinters they happen to be of the Gypsy Diaspora. In thinking back I do often wonder if he could have somehow been my father, but I don't think so -- I don't have his features and I do have my Dad's. And I wouldn't be entirely surprised if he'd taken my mother, I know he'd wanted to, he once told me she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. But from what I've seen from the, uh, secondary effects of how the gift works on people, I don't think it had ever been worked on her, I had gotten good at noticing those. Perhaps by someone very skillful, I suppose. More skilled than me. I made a mental note to carefully look inside my mom's head next time we caught up.

The stereotype is that every family has a black sheep. I think we were the white sheep of that family. Zoltan had the proverbial girl in every port, and as a kid I never understood why, and as a teen I never understood how. The man looked like a Gypsy version of Santa Claus and he was loud and raucous, but he could dance like nobody's business and he had endless energy and a harem of busty tattooed women that always seemed to be hanging on his every word.

When I was a kid one year he was visiting for Christmas dinner and I was growing exasperated with relatives and merrymakers and the rest of the group of my parents friends that I largely had concluded boisterous idiots and I had wandered off to a quieter part of the house. Zoltan came around, gathering people up and sending them back to the party, and mostly he told them and they went. But he came by and told me and I was already in a short tempered mood so I gave him the up-yours gesture and he blinked and then burst out laughing. Then he came over, sat down, told me "you've got spirit, kid", and talked to me instead of just ordering me to do it like he had done for everyone else. And after a friendly talk and the promise of a trip to his garage/machine shop/junkyard the next day when everyone else was going to insist on flooding the malls for inane post Christmas shopping, I was persuaded to come back to the table. But that's the moment he changed, towards me; he told me I was my own man, I had spirit, I had potential, I had the heart of a Gypsy. I absolutely did not have the heart of a Gypsy, I think I had the heart of a librarian at that age having learned to read very young, but I did like his stories.

And then at one point he asked me for computer help, and sure, I was happy to help. And when I fixed it, he decided I was one of his sons, and drunkenly adopted me and seemingly decided to teach me the ways of the world. I thought nothing of it, I knew better than to think he was any sort of respectable mentor, though he'd share bits of wisdom from time to time and some of them were pretty fun; he taught me to cheat at cards, which worked, and how to hotwire vehicles, which worked, and I never bothered to learn his lessons about where to hide your stash because I didn't do that and clearly his tricks weren't so great based on how often his friends and younger relatives got caught and busted.

He'd been a guest at various family gatherings; he came to various Christmases and Thanksgivings and Independence Day festivities; he came to my graduation ceremony and the party thereafter and brought his band which was pretty cool even if almost all the music was classic rock and not my generation -- but they played it well and they amused my friends and scandalized the neighbors and it was all good fun.

But at one point he came to visit when I was in college, I asked him for advice about my girlfriend at the time: Carrie was pleasant and smart and funny and geeky and kind but extremely unadventurous. He'd always been the guy who knew all about girls. Especially adventurous, shady, shamelessly erotic girls. I wondered if I would have more fun with a girl who liked to make bad decisions, but I explained that I really did like her and tried to convey why; I am surprised he took me seriously as I'm pretty sure my idea of what a good woman was like had very little to do with his idea of what a good woman was like, but he always told me I had a good head on my shoulders and he trusted my judgement on what sort of woman I wanted under the "different strokes for different folks" theory.

He showed up a few days later at my shared house one Thursday evening, had me invite Carrie along to dinner, and we crammed into a hotrodded old Ford that smoked like a chimney and smelled like the Grateful Dead and drove like a bat out of hell down to a little Italian place that I'd never been to. And he was garrulous and charming and bought us excellent veal and the waiter looked the other way and brought us a carafe of wine that he shared though Zoltan drank most of it. But he talked. And he asked questions about us, about our future, about each other, and when I had to excuse myself to the restroom he asked her about our love life and gave her some advice. And she took it. Unquestioningly and immediately.

From that night on she was absolute dynamite in bed. She was way more amenable to any sort of adventures in the daytime and had shed all her inhibitions at night. I had a lot more fun and got a lot less sleep and I don't think my grades suffered too much but my study habits sure did for my sophomore and junior years. Then in between our junior and senior years she did an internship out on the East Coast while I was still on the West Cost and she apparently also did her professor and a fellow intern and his brother, though I think not all of them at the same time. Well, the same time, but not all at once. Well, whatever, I never really learned the details, but she cheated on me with them and them with each other and I think there was a threesome with the professor and the intern, but I wasn't there and I wasn't invited and she Dear-Johnned me from the far coast.

She came back to university after the summer, and I still fucked her occasionally when she begged, but things were never the same, I never really trusted her much after that, we never went back to boyfriend-girlfriend and I had my first experience with returning an unused engagement ring to a jewelry shop.

Zoltan dropped in irregularly, but I did see him during that summer. He took me out to dinner and asked for computer help and I had spare time again so I said sure; he asked about Carrie and I told him what I knew and he grumbled and gave me all sorts of bad advice about women and though I hadn't caught it at the time he said not only that he was sorry that things went south between us but that he felt like he might have been partially to blame. I didn't know what he was alluding to, I told him he was fine and a good friend and my best disreputable mentor and the man who taught me everything that school wouldn't and we had a good laugh and went on.

I spent the rest of that summer before my senior year in a bad headspace, even with the attempts of my friends to distract me. I did have a great time visiting one of Zoltan's midsummer parties, and seeing how his daughters had grown up, which was fun and weird, and I'll tell you about it sometime. And then I went back to school and buckled down and was scholastic and antisocial and got great grades and despaired over the cost of graduate school and tried to figure out what to do next.

Then he showed up again at graduation. His ever-changing occupation was now travelling reverend, doing marriage ceremonies for biker weddings, and whoa, the stories he had from those. Carrie came to my graduation party, tried to make a one-last-fling-for-old-times-sake play and I was still bitter and I didn't do anything, didn't even kiss her goodbye, didn't even walk her to her car or watch her drive away, just helped her into her coat when she was leaving and told her good luck and to enjoy grad school. And I couldn't afford grad school, so it was time to join the famous Real World, which everyone had warned me was overrated and they were all correct. Zoltan was mostly just carousing and telling tall tales during the event, but after the party was over, he took me aside and told me he was proud that I didn't chase after her to say goodbye and that I'd find someone better and that he'd see to it. I told him I didn't think I was well suited to a biker girlfriend, and he laughed and said not to rule out the Gypsy lifestyle -- "being a Gypsy is in your spirit and your blood," he'd said, and in retrospect I suspect that may have meant the gift rather than just wanderlust. But in any case, he'd suggested that I should take the summer off, or maybe a "gap year" off, and tour around the Rockies with a couple of girls who not entirely coincidentally were both his daughters, but that wasn't what my parents or my diploma or my nonexistent savings account permitted and Zoltan eventually allowed that it should be up to me and he'd see to it that it was.

So over the first couple years of boring gainful employment, doing the things that I had always expected to do and had been learning how to do but now didn't seem to be finding very fulfilling doing them for pinheaded stuffed-suit managers, the increasingly elderly Zoltan still stopped in regularly to visit me. And tell me all about his crazy adventures and the palmistry and numerology and tarot hokum he'd sell to the rubes at county fair and swap meets and carnivals and rennfaires and other gatherings of that sort, up and down the coast and well into the heartland and (in the less believable tales) across Europe and South America and Australia and Thailand as well. It was probably a mixture of truth and nonsense like most of his stuff. For all I knew he was running dope on his motorcycle or his old Gypsy-wagon RV or one of his ridiculously-juiced-up beater cars -- you know, the sort of thing the old moonshiners would drive, doesn't seem a stretch. But he'd also always teach me something new. Something I couldn't explain, something I couldn't find books about, at least not books that didn't come from the Amazing Stories pulp fiction section or the nonsensical new age metaphysics section (and I tried those both, the sci-fi is better reading and makes more sense). Some part of the gift. He let me in on it slowly, never giving me more than one extra bite at a time, and making sure I learned it before moving on.