days to become weeks and his life to seem as endless as possible.
Isabel said, “You know, I think it is really time for us to go to sleep.” She was standing beside the bed with her hands on her hips. When he nodded, she began straightening the bedcovers and the pillows around him and over him. He said, “I guess I should go back to my room.”
“I guess not. You should stay here. I’m twenty-three. Even if they find out we’ve been together, we don’t have to give them the whole history, at least right away. You’re not married anymore. I’m a consenting adult. Blah blah blah.” Her voice was soft. When she had straightened the covers and patted the pillows, she folded back the quilt, took off all her clothes, and got into bed. She said, “Go to sleep. I’m sorry I said that. It was just something to say.” She cuddled up against him, and he could feel how cool her skin was all the way down, shoulders, back, waist, arms, belly, thighs, cool and silky and warming bit by bit against him. Her hair was in his face, but then she turned her head and pushed it out of his face with her hand. She seemed to fall asleep. The blue light seemed to pervade him, and the main thing he sensed was all the windows around the bed, was it eight on a side, that would be thirty-two windows, or was it sixteen on a side, that would be sixty-four windows, except you had to subtract for the bathroom, was that half a side? So that would be four windows you would subtract, except the bathroom had windows, too, so would you subtract four or add two, or subtract four and then add six? He knew he could open his eyes and count all the windows in the room, but he could not get his eyes open actually, and then the door to the bathroom disappeared and there was a bright light and his father was standing by the bed in a brown suit with cordovan oxfords and a maroon tie, and Stoney knew that this was the outfit his father had worn to the Oscars for some reason. Maybe it was what he had been wearing for the last year, while he was away, and since he had come back through the Oscars, he hadn’t had time to go home for his tux, it was a mystery, because his father wasn’t saying anything. Stoney felt himself twist and contract a little bit, and then he woke up and turned over and Jerry was gone. He said to himself, though not out loud, Well, you are on the downward slide now, and what he meant was that sleep was like a big pool he was heading into, feet-first, and he didn’t have to worry about it and here it came, and then he woke up because Isabel was somehow under the covers and was giving him head, and he had a huge erection, which she was anchoring with her hand. He opened his eyes.
It was true that she was under the covers giving him head. Not only could he feel her lips and tongue on the end of his cock, making some kind of flower motion, but if and when he could keep his eyes open, he could see the hump of her hips and one foot, sticking out of the covers at the bottom of the bed. He groaned, which woke him up more thoroughly, and then his back arched a bit because she was doing something with her fingers on his balls that sent a charge directly into his spine. He placed both of his hands, which were on his chest, onto her head and he scratched her scalp a little bit through her hair and it was the least he could do until all of a sudden she rose out of the covers, lifting them high and throwing them off, exclaiming, “Oh, it’s so hot under there!” and she was brightly naked for a moment against the dark underside of the quilt, smiling, only the circles of her eye sockets and her areolae and the triangle of her pubic hair were dark, making a triumphant pattern against her skin, and then she swung her leg over him and sat down ever so slowly right on his cock, introducing it millimeter by millimeter into herself. She said, “I’m always amazed at how much bigger my cunt is than my mouth, when my mouth seems so big,” and he gave a
Isabel said, “You know, I think it is really time for us to go to sleep.” She was standing beside the bed with her hands on her hips. When he nodded, she began straightening the bedcovers and the pillows around him and over him. He said, “I guess I should go back to my room.”
“I guess not. You should stay here. I’m twenty-three. Even if they find out we’ve been together, we don’t have to give them the whole history, at least right away. You’re not married anymore. I’m a consenting adult. Blah blah blah.” Her voice was soft. When she had straightened the covers and patted the pillows, she folded back the quilt, took off all her clothes, and got into bed. She said, “Go to sleep. I’m sorry I said that. It was just something to say.” She cuddled up against him, and he could feel how cool her skin was all the way down, shoulders, back, waist, arms, belly, thighs, cool and silky and warming bit by bit against him. Her hair was in his face, but then she turned her head and pushed it out of his face with her hand. She seemed to fall asleep. The blue light seemed to pervade him, and the main thing he sensed was all the windows around the bed, was it eight on a side, that would be thirty-two windows, or was it sixteen on a side, that would be sixty-four windows, except you had to subtract for the bathroom, was that half a side? So that would be four windows you would subtract, except the bathroom had windows, too, so would you subtract four or add two, or subtract four and then add six? He knew he could open his eyes and count all the windows in the room, but he could not get his eyes open actually, and then the door to the bathroom disappeared and there was a bright light and his father was standing by the bed in a brown suit with cordovan oxfords and a maroon tie, and Stoney knew that this was the outfit his father had worn to the Oscars for some reason. Maybe it was what he had been wearing for the last year, while he was away, and since he had come back through the Oscars, he hadn’t had time to go home for his tux, it was a mystery, because his father wasn’t saying anything. Stoney felt himself twist and contract a little bit, and then he woke up and turned over and Jerry was gone. He said to himself, though not out loud, Well, you are on the downward slide now, and what he meant was that sleep was like a big pool he was heading into, feet-first, and he didn’t have to worry about it and here it came, and then he woke up because Isabel was somehow under the covers and was giving him head, and he had a huge erection, which she was anchoring with her hand. He opened his eyes.
It was true that she was under the covers giving him head. Not only could he feel her lips and tongue on the end of his cock, making some kind of flower motion, but if and when he could keep his eyes open, he could see the hump of her hips and one foot, sticking out of the covers at the bottom of the bed. He groaned, which woke him up more thoroughly, and then his back arched a bit because she was doing something with her fingers on his balls that sent a charge directly into his spine. He placed both of his hands, which were on his chest, onto her head and he scratched her scalp a little bit through her hair and it was the least he could do until all of a sudden she rose out of the covers, lifting them high and throwing them off, exclaiming, “Oh, it’s so hot under there!” and she was brightly naked for a moment against the dark underside of the quilt, smiling, only the circles of her eye sockets and her areolae and the triangle of her pubic hair were dark, making a triumphant pattern against her skin, and then she swung her leg over him and sat down ever so slowly right on his cock, introducing it millimeter by millimeter into herself. She said, “I’m always amazed at how much bigger my cunt is than my mouth, when my mouth seems so big,” and he gave a
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