Urges

"But Janie, what if…"

"Yes, Steph?"

"What if,"

"What if the problem wasn't Jeff. What if the problem is me."

"Why do you say that Stephanie?"

"No reason, and that is the problem, I don't know, but hear me out. What if, asshole that he is, he sensed, he intuitively sensed in his pea sized little brain, that he wasn't satisfying me, sexually, that he could never satisfy me in that way, and as time went by he would never, and the situation would only get worse, not better? What if, in a way, I am like the rogue tiger, which developed a taste, a lust for human flesh? What if I sense, like you, I have a hidden, surpressed urge to taste female flesh?"

There is no response. Stephanie falls silent and I say nothing. Each of us has gone down different roads in our lives and time and experience have brought us together at this crossroads on a lonely, rainy night in April in northern New England. Do we continue our journey together at least temporarily or do we simply pass each other like the proverbial strangers in the night.

There is no need to articulate this, as both of us understand it clearly. Finally, Stephanie reaches across and, for the first time, takes my hand and, holding it, says, "Come, its time."

I gather my possessions together, my lighter and cigarettes and, as I stand, I whisper, "I've got to go to the ladies room, be right back."

"No, Janie."

"No?"

"You don't have to go pee-pee. You're playing for time. It is time for us both to fish or cut bait. Its time to decide. If you have to pee, it can wait. Lets go."

Meekly I follow her out into the driving rain. The mad run to the old Chevy leaves us both drenched to the skin. Once in, and the old engine coaxed to life one more time, the defroster blowing, slowly clearing the condensation from the windows, Stephanie looks at me and says simply, "Do you want me to drop you at your house or are you coming home with me?"

For, a moment I say nothing. Finally in a hoarse whisper I say, "Your house, Stephanie, take me home to your house."

"Sorry Janie, I couldn't hear you. Tell me again what you want, what you need. Tell me now or I will take you home."

"Take me to your house Stephanie and make love to me."

The drive through the darkening streets to Stephanie's condo is absolutely silent; both of us lost in our own private thoughts. The time to talk is passed. The time for action is upon us. All has been said, all is out on the table. The worst case scenario is that we both agree that it was a horrible mistake never to be raised by either of us again, but the other question, the opposite side of the issue, goes unanswered. What is the best case scenario?

The old car is once again housed in its allotted stall. We both make a mad rush up the front stairs, not out of eager anticipation of tasting the fruit of being in each others arms, but rather the more pressing physical need to get out of the cold driving spring rain. Once inside Stephanie takes my coat and hangs it with hers in the front closet. Almost involuntarily, a shiver runs down my back and I shake like a dog coming in from the rain.

Stephanie takes me by the shoulders and wills me to look her in the eye. As my head comes up she says, "Go upstairs to the master bedroom, the bath is off it. Have your 'pee-pee' and take off those wet clothes and have a hot shower. After that we'll both follow our instincts. Go, Janie, go now, Janie, please."

Slowly, even tentatively, I pad across the small foyer and up the stairs, my sopping wet feet leaving small wet prints to mark the passage. The small bath off the master bedroom offers all I could possibly need. As I slip off my sodden thigh length jacket and full length skirt yet another chill courses down my spine to once again terminate in my pussy. Whether it is from the chill of the rain or sexual arousal, who can tell certainly not me at this stage of the dance?

A hot shower and shampoo works wonders driving the cold chill from my body but does nothing to take the edge off my nerves. As my hands, slick with the warm water and shampoo, slide over my engorged nipples, more thrills run through my body. Just sliding my splayed fingers through my lathered bush drives me close to the edge. A slight shift in the water temperature tells me that I am in danger of over staying my welcome in the warm secure walls of the shower, so I exit and dry off, apprehensive as to what waits behind the closed bathroom door. Dried, I blow my hair and, having no other course to further delay, I turn off the light and timidly open the bathroom door. The bedroom beyond is in deep shadow, the only light coming from a small scented candle burning on the top of the dresser. It provides just enough light for me to see Stephanie comfortably ensconced in the bed, the covers up under her armpits and her bare shoulders comfortable against the pillow. A chilled bottle of white wine, the condensation running down its sides, sits on the night table, along with two simple wineglasses.

The other side of the bed is turned down. Self-conscious of my nakedness in front of another woman for the first time really since high school gym class, I edge into the room. As I creep into the room I cross my arms under my breasts and attempt to cover my nipples with the palms of my hands. The hot shower and my manipulation of them, combined with the erotic thoughts of what is to come, have insured that they are erect and sensitive. Fleetingly, the uniqueness of the situation passes through my mind. One thing is clear. I am about to make love and not to be fucked. There is a difference and it is more than semantics. The frightening aspect is that my arousal is due to the fact it is with another woman, forbidden fruit. Thoughts of Gerald placidly sitting home in front of the television watching the Red Sox and minding the children are totally absent from my obsessed mind.

"A little late to be self-conscious, don't you think, Janie?"

The comment jolts me from my private thoughts.

"Come on, get under the covers, before your catch your death a cold."

At first, I sit on the side of the bed; the soles of my feet flat on the floor and my hands folded neatly in my lap. One last effort to gather my courage. A deep breath and I raise my legs on the bed and stretch out, my head on the pillow beside Stephanie. I pull the blankets up to my chin.

"Janie,” Stephanie whispers as she turns slightly towards me, "Don't you think I might be a little nervous and self-conscious about this too?"

Her hand sneaks across the gulf between us to lightly touch my arm. The instinctual urge to recoil from another woman’s touch is overcome by my raging emotions, my long surpressed sexual urges. "I suppose Steph, but you seem so self assured, so in command, so…so sure you know what you want and that you are doing the right thing. I know I give the impression that I am the one that is so totally in command but it is all a facade, a false front.”

A hint of a smile touches the corners of Stephanie’s mouth. Her fingers lightly caress my skin as if she is trying to soothe me, to ease my taunt nerves. “Well, I'm not, I'm just as apprehensive, just as frightened as you are. Possibly I'm just doing a better job of hiding it. Maybe I am more frightened. Just remember you have a husband and family to retreat to, that will gather behind you and support and protect you if things go wrong. I have no-one.”

There is no response to this observation. The simple truth calls for no answer. The two of us lay like ice cold, stone statues under the same sheet for several minutes in total silence, acutely aware of the presence of each other and fearful of moving for the possibility of touching each other.

Finally, Stephanie ventures, "Do you think, Janie, that Woody Allen could make this into a humorous scene?" Silence follows. "What's the matter, Janie, cat got your tongue?"

"Whew…whew…" Stephanie shouts as she thrashes at the sheets and blanket from underneath with her arms and her legs. In seconds the bed looks like ours use too after Gerald and I had gone at it long and hard. "What are you doing?" I gasp, as I madly clutch the edge of the blanket under my chin. Little do I realize that the bedclothes have been totally removed from my body from my breasts downward?

"Making like and icebreaker, Janie, the ice is pretty thick here. Must be at least six feet covering the bed. Don't know if this icebreaker is strong enough? What do you think?"

A smile creeps around the corners of my mouth. Stephanie rises on her elbows and looks down in the direction of my pussy. "Well, to paraphrase the immortal words of Mae West, 'are those icicles glistening in your bush or are you glad to see me?"

I instantly release my death grip on the edge of the bedclothes and reach down to find my lower body totally exposed. My fingers snake through my bush to find, surprisingly, no icicles but rather my arousal visibly obvious. My fingers come away damp and Stephanie reaches across and takes my hand in hers drawing it to her lips. She opens her lips and looking me in the eye she begins to suck each finger, one by one. As I feel the muscles of my body start to relax my nostrils flair, as I smell for the first time the scent of my arousal. "Guess I am glad to see you. It has been a long time since I have been so mentally aroused without being physically touched. Jesus Stephanie, you don't know, you can never guess how aroused I am," as I turn on my side and the two of us slide into the embrace of each other’s arms.

Hungrily, we search for each other's lips and, tearing my hand away from Stephanie; I caress her full breast before I let it wander down over her stomach and abdomen to finally bury itself deep in the curls of her young bush. A moan escapes her lips, as I sense, no I feel, the muscles in her pussy at first tense and then release.

Slowly her muscles relax and she slips on her back as I stretch out along her side. My tongue, tentative at first, flicks out of my mouth darting at her sealed lips, probing, prodding, experimenting, searching for an opening to gain entrance into her oral cavity.

Her lack of resistance makes me bolder. My tongue becomes more insistent, pushing at her lips until finally the last of her physical resistance is overcome. Her lips slide open and my tongue races through to do caress hers. Stephanie's last mental defenses collapse as my tongue slides in. With a deep guttural moan, her hand reaches down and forces my legs apart so that she can massage my clit with her index finger. "Oh, God, Stephanie, that feels sooooo good!" "Seems the ice virgins are melting more quickly than a snowball in hell tonight," I whisper in her ear. I reach down, and gripping her hand buried deep in my bush, and murmur, "You don't know how long I have been dreaming of making love to you. Until to day I never admitted to anyone, not even myself, this perverse desire. “Please Stephanie, let me love you."

She says nothing simply because there is nothing to be said. Her hand, fingers extended into my cunt, relaxes and I pull it away capturing it in mine. In a flash of erotic inspiration I reach to the side of the bed and pour a glass of wine. "Want a glass of wine, Stephanie?"

Puzzled, she simply nods affirmatively.

"Well, open your mouth and close your eyes."

Hesitant, she obeys. I take a deep sip of the cold Riesling and, leaning down, I kiss her lightly on the lips. It is not what she was expecting as I feel her body tense slightly under me but she does not fight me. Sensing my intention she releases the muscles in her lips and opens her mouth to receive the newly warmed wine. As it flows into her mouth our tongues return to their erotic dance as a slow prolonged shutter passes through her body.

She pulls away ever so slightly and, gasping for breath, whispers, "Jesus, Janie, that is what I am missing, the tenderness, the empathy, the compassion, the love. To be needed, to be wanted, to be cherished, oh God, Janie, what a rush. To be treated as something other than a warm, wet hole to jack off in. Janie, do you understand what I am trying to say? You are making love to me; you're not fucking me. There is a difference no man can comprehend. Making love and fucking should be the same thing. Why do men not understand that?"

"I understand, Stephanie, all I can say is women are from Venus and men are from Mars.” The conversations ceases as I lower my head and take the rosy pink nipple of her breast between my lips and gently begin to manipulate it. The blood, pumping through her veins faster and faster, rushes to the tiny bud and it engorges under my tender sucking.

"Oh Janie, oh, Janie…for God's sake, don't stop, it feels so good, so, so good."

Her hand snake into my hair and, entwining my soft dark strands in her fingers, she tries to maneuver my head further down her body. Once again my tongue snakes out of my mouth and I start licking her salty skin as I slide down her body. Reaching to the bedside table, I take the partially filled glass of wine and pour it over the flat plain of her abdomen and down into the luxuriant brown hair of her pussy. A sibilant hiss escapes her lips as the chilled wine runs in rivulets down her belly and into the thick mat of hair that covers her pussy cooling the inflamed lips of her cunt.

"Oh, Janie, oh…" are the only intelligent words which pass her lips as she gasps for air.

Once again I lower my head and, flicking out my tongue like a starving kitten, I start to lick up the spilled wine from her belly button. As I slowly slip further down her body, I can first smell and then taste her arousal as my lips and nose reach the upper fringes of her untrimmed bush. I raise my head ever so slightly so that I can see her face. Excited as she is, she is watching me as closely as the mongoose watches the cobra. Smiling, I comment dryly, "I don't know if I can make my way through this thick forest to the Promised Land. If I get lost you may have to do some judicious trimming to find me. Maybe you'll have to get out the razor and shaving cream and do some clear cutting. Could you do that, Stephanie? Could you?"

"I'll do anything, please, just don't stop, please don’t stop Janie."

Smiling, I bury my face back in her brown muff. "Oh…my God!" is all I hear.

Extending my arms down her sides, I slide them under her thighs and then slide them back up. The palms of my hands each cradle a cheek of her ass. Sub-consciously she devines my intention and relaxes the muscles in her thighs and, spreading her legs, she raises her knees so the soles of her feet are flat on the bed.

Using just the tips of my fingers, I separate the tight cheeks of her ass and place the index finger of my hand against the tiny, dainty rosebud. The muscle, sensing my intended invasion into its dark orifice tenses; resisting but I wet it with the juices running down from her distended slit.

"No, Janie, noooooooo."

"Please, nooooooo!"

Her pleas fall on deaf ears. My finger continues to tease, to probe, to prod, seeking a momentary weakness to rush the gates and slip into the forbidden grotto.

The little pink bud begins to pulse, expanding and contracting, one moment welcoming the invader and the next resisting. As my finger continues its dance around her brown hole, my tongue begins to lick at her blood engorged lips. Her salty juices flow as I slip inside probing, seeking out each little dark hidden channel. Her nerve endings begin to hum.

"Oh, God, don't stop, please, please… don't stop." She cries. My lips seize on her clit and I begin to slowly play with it as it emerges, enlarged, engorged, from its hooded cave. Stephanie releases my hair and seizes the bedclothes tightly in her fists.

"Oh, Janie, what have I been missing?" It is as if the last final mental barrier has been reached. Stephanie totally gives in to the sensual pleasures of the moment.

The tension flows from her body. Her muscles collapse. "Oh…oh…Janie! Love me, please love me."

My finger, sensing the moment, rushes the forbidden portal and slips past the outer elastic ring. Momentarily, the muscles tighten, seizing my finger and trying to expel the unwanted invader but the desire to resist is gone and total surrender is eminent. My finger wiggles and advances. It slides up to the first knuckle and still I am not past the ring of muscles. The resistance weakens as I wiggle my insinuating digit deeper into the forbidden cavity of her body. The second knuckle rushes the gate and gains a toehold. All defenses collapse. I am through the gate. My finger advances, meeting no resistance.

Stephanie is totally exposed on the bed. Her legs spread, my finger embedded deep in her rectum, my face in the deeply matted hair of her sopping bush, my tongue probing her canal. Curling my finger, I begin to massage the thin wall separating her bowel from her vaginal canal.

The sensation is electric. Stephanie starts to rhymthically clench and unclenches her fists moaning, "Janie, I'm coming, oh Janie…Janie…. Oh, Janie! Oh Janie, please help me."

My tongue continues to torment her clit as convulsions rack her body. Finally, her muscles totally relax and her labored breathing slowly returns to normal. As I lay on the bed beside her, my head raised, resting on the palm of my hand, I marvel at her youthful beauty so totally exposed in repose.

Initially I think she has fallen asleep but with eyes closed she whispers, "It sure has been an eventful day, hasn't it, Janie?"

"Yes, you could say that." I comment as a shy smile crosses my lips. “Are you disappointed?”

There is no answer and slightly alarmed I focus on her face.

A troubled smile crosses her lips. In a voice that is barely audible I hear her say, "Do you remember my analogy of the tiger that had to be destroyed because it developed a taste for human flesh?"

Momentarily I am at a loss for works, trying to remember the comment she made earlier in this eventful evening. Finally I remember the comment, "Yes, but what does that have to do with us?"

"Maybe, nothing and maybe everything." She seems to muse out loud. Stephanie rises and, facing me on the bed reaches over and lightly caresses my breast. A shiver runs through my body as my eyes glaze over.

"I fear, Janie, I am like a tigress who has developed a taste, not for human flesh, but rather for female flesh. I have never experienced an orgasm like that in my life. I can't imagine ever going back to someone like Jeff. There is a difference, there truly is a difference, there truly is a difference, between being fucked and being made love to."

All I can do is smile. Words are not required. "Mmmmmmm…" I murmur as I enjoy her caressing my breast.

"Do you have the lilac or the white vibrator in your purse or do you have both?" she asks with a mischievous look in her eye.

My eyes open like two saucers as I look at her.

"You'd be surprised at what I know and what I sense. You have no secrets from me, Janie. "Janie, go get your purse… now!" Like the obedient little girl I am in all matters sexual, I dutifully pad across the bedroom to the bath for my purse wondering, how fresh are those batteries? Did the Energizer Bunny make them? Will they keep going and going, or will they let us down at a crucial time?

* * * * *

If you would like further chapters in this saga please encourage the writer by dropping a note to the author.