Vision Ch. 04

"What are you doing to me?"

"Thoroughly but gently fucking you." She gasps and her eyes roll back in her head as the second orgasm hits her hard, the pocket tightens and pulls on my dick so deliciously.

"Dax!"

I feel her stomach clench and tighten as she yells my name and passes out. I finish, fucking her as hard and as fast as I can while she continues to spasm around me. Two or three more strokes in her prone body and I stop and pull out and look on in fascination at the little hole that brings such joy. I bend and kiss it. Now that's what I call pussy.

She's completely limp as I pick her up and wrap her arms and legs around me and carry her to the bed. She opens her eyes to find me smiling at her as I lay her down. She looks at me apprehensively.

"Sleep now." I kiss her forehead and pull the sheet over her and she burrows into a pillow and drifts off.

Impressive, that ability of hers to fall asleep the instant she shuts her eyes.

I quickly put things away, wipe down the counters and stack the dishwasher. 10 am on a Tuesday and I am walking around her home in my boxers having just eaten another of her excellent meals and fucked her silly on her kitchen counter and she's naked and waiting in bed.

I am in a much better place than I was 24 hours ago. We nap for a while and then she suddenly sits up.

"I need to check in not to mention I won't be able to sleep tonight with all this napping, it's too strange to be here in the middle of the day like this." She turns to me and sighs.

"You are a bad influence."

Going to the chair where I placed her jeans, she gives the clothes a shake and looks under the chair, searching.

What are you looking for?

"My undies, you must have dropped them in the hall somewhere." she goes to leave the room.

I call out. "I have them."

She walks back into the room and looks at me. "I knew it was too good to be true. You have some sort of fetish, don't you?"

"Yes, I have a fetish, a pussy fetish and you won't be wearing panties for at least the next 12-24 hours. I want the full experience."

"Seriously, you can't expect me to walk around like this all day?"

"I do." I get up and go towards her. "I plan on having you every hour on the hour." I put my arms around her and walk her back to the bed.

I slip a finger inside her she's wet. She's always wet. I roll on a condom and sit her on top of me. She takes all of me in and smiles as she arches that eyebrow and starts to move.

-

When I wake up she's still lying on top of me, chin on folded hands staring. Watching me sleep seems to be a quirk of hers. It's cat-like, predatory and more than a little unnerving.

"What's up? Was I snoring?"

"Snoring? Please, you know my policy. No, I'm just looking at you. You're kind of beautiful Dax."

"Oh, yeah?" it's my turn to blush. I've gotten cute or handsome, but never beautiful.

"Let's not pretend. You know you're good looking."

She sits up slowly and straddles me, trailing her hand down my chest and stomach. "I've seen you eat so I don't know how you have this beautiful skinny body."

She touches my face. "And in my next life I plan to come back as stubble just so I can live beside this dimple."

Kissing me there, she trails her fingertips lightly over my forehead, eyes, nose, lips and chin. Looking fascinated, she gently runs her finger over the prominent bump on my nose.

"How'd you break it?"

"I was 8 and pretending to be Superman and standing on a folding lawn chair when it closed up on me, fell face first onto a concrete planter."

"Ouch. Superman eh?"

"I broke it again at 14 fooling around with my brother. We had a knockout drag down fight is what and I kicked his ass good."

"I like it." She laughs lazily and kisses the bump. Maybe it's not so bad being stared at if this is the effect I have on her. She's making me tingle all over.

"That damned square jaw-line, you're so fucking cute I could bite you."

I can't help but smile. "Well bite me then."

With a mischievous gleam in her eye she comes down and bites me firmly on the jaw. "Just like the lions do on National Geographic." She nods wisely.

I smile at her. "So you like the look of me?"

She looks up at the ceiling nods her head and shrugs. This is quite a moment.

"You barely look at me though. I look at you."

She tilts her head to the side. "I look at you all the time. I just don't stare."

I give her a narrow eyed look.

"You stare; you just wait until I'm asleep. I'm on to you."

She looks momentarily embarrassed. Ah ha! Caught.

She blurts out, "Well it's impolite not to mention unnerving to openly stare at people."

She looks at me pointedly. "The first time you saw me you just stared for I don't know how long."

"You were practically naked Lou. All that flesh? I am a man you know."

"That wasn't my fault, you walked in on me. What about at the office, when you saw my natural hair? You looked at it like it was about to attack you. It was insane."

"C'mon now, imagine my shock? One minute I'm being accosted by this mysteriously sexy little girl in England who just disappears and the next I'm meeting Kathleen Cleaver in a power suit. I was having an out of body experience, it couldn't be helped. Besides, there was so much hair I was wondering how you stayed upright."

She giggles and scoffs in mock indignation, lightly punching me in the stomach.

She laughs out loud. "Are you implying that I'm a bobble-head?"

"I didn't say that. But I wouldn't deny it. Thank god you have all this," I grab a nice handful and squeeze, "or else you'd tip right over for sure."

"I am not a bobble head, thank you very much! And as a rule, sex and the workplace do not mix. You managed to sneak past security. The only other time I broke that rule I ended up being too scared to go to the cafeteria having slept with one of the chefs. Good for my waistline, but annoying as hell. I eventually found another job. But women talk. You've been noticed."

She narrows her eyes. Oh this is getting even better.

"Are you jealous?"

"Generally no, unless you give me reason to be."

She looks somewhat serious. "Thou shall have no gods before me. I'm just sayin' ". She shrugs.

I chuckle lightly. "That's an easy fix you know?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"I don't have a problem with PDA." I look at her. There are a few men I'd like to put on notice around there as far as how they look at her anyway.

She shook her head firmly. "No. We are keeping this quiet for the foreseeable future. I don't want word of this in the office. I barely know what it is we're doing as it is."

Long seconds passed as he scowled while she coolly stared back.

"Come on we're both starving. I think a salad is order."

"Salad? I know I'm skinny but I do eat real food." I was hoping for a good steak, or at least some protein. Loving her silly is quite the workout.

"Don't be like that. Trust me, you'll get good and full. We've been eating wrong. We need vegetation. I do anyway."

She stands and puts on her jeans and slips on her top.

"You boil up some eggs and grill some chicken. I'm going to make us a Gargouillou salad. Trust me you'll like it."

Slapping me on the shoulder, she nods once emphatically and leaves.

I dress and as instructed and grill a couple of chicken breasts and boils four eggs. Looking up I see her leaving the greenhouse, tasting this and smelling that as she walks back.

"It's going well out there. I've got mixed baby greens, spinach, arugula, rose petals, radishes, nasturtiums, tomatoes, garlic, thyme, chives, baby kale, young carrots, parsnips and watercress and chervil."

She's got what looks to be a laundry basket full of vegetables. This should be interesting. After preparing a vinegar bath and carefully washing everything thoroughly several times, she spins it dry in a salad spinner.

Pouring some olive oil in a pan she puts in some garlic, thyme and chives and turns the heat down low. I skin the parsnips and chop the tomatoes and chicken.

Tossing some of the greens in the hot oil for a bit she waits a beat while some of it wilts away, most of it stays intact. She arranges it in the bowl, separates a tangerine and tosses it in, adds some dried cranberries and marcona almonds and stilton cheese adds the chicken gives everything a good toss and a squeeze of tangerine and lemon juice and finishes with rose petals and nasturtium blossoms.

It looks more like art than food and I'm a little doubtful.

"I've seen it, but don't think I've ever eaten flowers before."

"Of course you have. Everyone has if they've eaten broccoli and cauliflower."

She drags out utensils and glasses and two very large bowls which she fills.

"Let's eat out back."

We take everything outside, it's warm and there's a breeze and the garden is lovely. I take a cautious bite and it's incredible. Every other bite gives off different flavors and there's plenty of chicken so it feels like a real meal after all.

"The way your eyes have just about rolled back in your head, I take it you like it?"

"Whatever Lou."

"I promise not to tell the others that you're a salad eater," she says in a mock whisper.

-

It's 7:30 am and we're both restless and sexed out for the moment. I usually go for a morning run, but I am willingly forgoing my routine in favor of quality time.

"It's a beautiful day, let's get out of here. Maybe a picnic somewhere, but first I have a request?"

"A request?"

Those eyes and lips, luscious kisses.

"A dress? No pants, no jeans, a dress. Today is not a workday. I like the way they sway in the back as you walk by."

She looks at me and frowns but says - ok. She's getting easier. I take a few long moments to kiss her again.

--

Wear a dress. Men! I swear.

He's a damned good kisser though. A great kisser in fact. Every kiss is deeply luscious and breathtaking. Serious kisses from a serious man.

A dress. The feminine ideal, the prurient male fantasy, it's what they all want.

So cliché. But where's the harm? It's such a small thing really. Who's to say I can't be both? Fine, Let's see if I can do this.

--

I head off to the shower. When I come back she's nowhere in sight. I hear a car horn. She's at the curb in a shiny chrome black car with a trident as an emblem. She retracts the hard top roof and waves at me to come on and lock the door. It's very warm and sunny so the top down is a good idea.

I look at her personalized license plate PJU2GBD? Virginia, capitol of the personalized license plate. What the hell does that mean? She's all smiles as I slip in beside her.

In a simple white dress with her hair blown out and left down she's gone from pretty to stunning.

"Where to?" I ask.

"Your place. Where do you live?"

"Near Williamsburg."

"Excellent! I get to put him on the highway."

"Him?"

"Yes, the car. James Brown."

I howl with laughter. "Great! And you our license plate is an acronym for . . .?"

"Punks Jump Up to Get Beat Down."

I look at her. What the hell have I gotten myself into? She kicks off her shoes, driving bare foot. We are on 64 and out of the city in 6 minutes. Drives like a bat out of hell, but seems to know where all the speed traps are and to slow down accordingly. I like the way she handles the car, driving with one hand, not hesitating to pass people. She hikes up her dress.

"Hike it up baby, hike it up."

She puts her foot down a little harder. The speedometer reads 90 mph. Is that emblem a trident or a pitchfork? I'm not scared, much. Looking over at me the eyebrow raises in mild concern.

"You ok?"

"I'm good."

"You need me to slow down?"

"No, do your thing. There's a speeding ticket out there somewhere with your name all over it."

She laughs. "I only drive it like I stole it on the highway, and knock on wood," she knocks on my forehead, "I've never had a speeding ticket."

She puts on some music cranks it up and is rocking out to it singing a little. I look at the screen, what the hell?! Marilyn Manson?! All I know about Marilyn is that he seems like some evil angry Goth Tranny. Halloween music.

I hold my own and manage not to blink or flinch as I believe this to be some kind of test. It's soon over and she's softly singing something loungish and dreamy with an acid jazz vibe. Her voice isn't great but she stays within her range, low, natural, abstracted, a little tired even, as though she were trying, after a long evening of scotch, to sing herself to sleep.

It's goes on in this vein for several songs and I'm doing well until I hear Jay Z start singing Big Pimpin' I look at her and cock my head to the side like really. Her tastes are all over the place. Is she schizophrenic, bipolar or what? It'd explain a lot. She turns down the music and shrugs.

"You wanted to know me, this is me.

I love music, rock, country, world music, R&B, Rap, I even like some Klezmer. I love literature, am especially partial to Victorian.

I like foreign film especially French and German and whatever is passing for independent film these days, though my favorite movie is the Godfather.

Am a serious news junkie, I listen to NPR and read the Guardian, NYTimes, LATimes and Wall Street Journal, but only online, I don't like ink on my hands.

I love good food, great sex, basketball, boxing, sharp suits, SciFi, single malt scotch, Belgian beer, Cuban cigars, cake and fast cars just for starters.

And right now I like you too. You're pretty high on my list of likes in fact. So this is me. I've not done something like this . . . in a really long time.

I generally have a 'Hell No' policy when it comes to men. I can be . . . uncompromising."

She finally takes a breath and looks over at me. I'm smiling at her.

"You're a little strange but don't change, it's what I like best about you so far."

"You say this now . . ." I hear the doubt.

"I mean to hang on with both hands. I'm ambidextrous by the way."

"Ambidextrous? Sounds untrustworthy, pick a hand already." She glances over.

"Well I'm rooting for you anyway." She throws her chin up at me like players do on the court.

"Good Luck!" She puts her foot down again.

CHAPTER 32

"You live in the woods."

"This is not the woods."

She looks around and looks at me again.

"I'm not going to chop you into little pieces or chain you in the woodshed. I'd never do that here."

She smirks at me.

We pull into my driveway beside my mustang. I'm glad I cut the grass before I left. The place is still standing and looks all right. I turn on the lights.

"It's not much but it's clean and mine and pretty much paid for. Just me, a bunch of computers and my guitar collection."

Her eyes light up. "You play guitar?"

"I do."

"You any good?"

"I'm not half bad."

"Well, I love live music, so anytime you want an audience . . ."

"I'll keep that in mind."

After the grandeur of her place, my home seems Spartan. Looking around she inhales deeply.

"It smells like you here."

She's smiling so I'm guessing this is a good thing. Admiring my beat-up leather chesterfield sofa she says it's got great character. And she gushes over my red kitchen aid standing mixer.

"You are really serious about baking, huh?"

"I like cake almost as much as you do."

I tell her about my experience at a Williams and Sonoma annual sale as the only man in the store.

"I was able to grab the last mixer because it was on a high shelf and this 65 year old woman verbally assaulted me. She tried to imply that I'd snatched it from her as she was about to pick it up.

Luckily the manager saw the whole thing and said 'he simply picked it up first ma'am'.

Lulu, I swear she followed me around the store for 20 minutes. I was so nervous I forgot about the knife set I was looking at and paid for my purchase left the mall."

She laughs heartily.

"So that's your idea of fun? Shaking down grandmothers for mixers and fleeing the scene? I see."

I swat her with a dishtowel. What do you want to eat woman?"

She looks at my crotch.

"I meant for breakfast."

"That's what I want for breakfast."

She slides an arm around my neck, unzipping my pants with conviction, slipping her hand in my boxers. I'm hungry but my dick seems to have other ideas. Her hair is a beautiful mess from the drive and there's a wicked gleam in her eye as I untie her wrap dress to find a black bra and matching thong. Breakfast can wait. I grab her hand and drag her off to my room. Let's do this.

Taking off her dress she drapes it over a hook on the door and comes over to me and takes off my shirt unbuckles my belt and pulls down my pants and then my boxers, she brushes her breasts against my dick as she stands, again kissing me and then shoving me so that I fall to the bed.

Laughing softly as she positions me the way she wants to before quickly straddling me and trailing kisses down my chest and stomach, which chooses that moment to growl. Shaking her head she addresses my stomach.

"Nope, no food for you right now."

She plants a kiss there and keeps going and grabs the base of my dick with one hand and kissing the tip, opens her mouth and pushes down on me and sucks hard on the upstroke, she moves her tongue around and around the head and starts it up again with the up and down, her hand moving in concert with her mouth, sucking hard, she gags a little but keeps going, her tongue swirling around and around the tip feels amazing.

God she gives great head. I love it. All I can see is that pert peach of an ass barely covered with a little patch of lace just past her bobbing head.

Further and further she slides until I'm lodged in her throat. Jesus wept! She's got her other hand on my thigh for balance squeezing it gently before sliding it down to cup my balls.

In a voice I barely recognize as my own, "Lulu, you should stop baby. Please, I'm going to come in your mouth if you don't." My balls are tight and boiling.

Nodding with my dick in her mouth she looks directly at me and hums approvingly.

Wow that's it, I come in her mouth and those perfectly glossed lips stay trapped around me and don't spill a drop as she swallows repeatedly. I'm drowsy warm and on the verge of sleep when she slides her warm soft body on top of me.

"That was amazing."

Mmmhmmm, she says sleepily and we drift off.

I wake up an hour later to her kissing me and guiding my fingers into her.

"Can I help you miss?"

"I believe you can sir." With a firm grasp she eases down onto me. I grasp her waist to take her off and she frowns and tightens the grip of her thighs to an impressive degree. I laugh.

"We need a condom."

"Just finished my period, not ovulating. I've seen your card and you've seen mine. I say we don't." She rolls her hips in a circle. The tight silky feel of her is beyond incredible. I groan and give up.

"Yes ma'am." Glad to lose the argument. I let her have her way with me until we finally fall back happily exhausted.

I wake find her halfway on top of me again but asleep this time. I'm starving.

Gently shifting her onto the bed, I slide on boxers and gingerly shift my junk around. I'm sore from my abs to my groin. She comes hard and repeatedly. I've not had this much sex in a long time, jerking off does not count.

I love the sight of her stretched out on my bed. She's on her stomach with those dimples at the top of each plump buttock looking like absolute perfection. Damn. I groan to myself. I have got to get out of here or I'll try to fuck her again, and I'm a little scared to think she'd let me. I chuckle to myself.

I start the coffee. What to feed her? Omelets, toast and coffee? She feeds me so well at her place and here I am with barely a thing to feed her. Eggs, grits and bacon?

I'm pouring myself a cup when she comes in wearing my polo. She comes over and hops up on the counter and pulls me to her and puts her legs around my waist.