place between her legs, highlighted in my smell and my sight. I
want my reward.
Are we over the state line?
She asks as she opens her eyes a
shadow.
Yes. Barely.
Good.
We get the room and she heads
straight for the bathroom.
I stare at the old worn carpet,
smell of smoke in the periphery, and the sheets that have a few stains that
look like they'll never be removed.
I flop down on the bed. I've come a
long way in my life and in her arms, and yet there is always the possibility
that I'm being played. I wouldn't be the first... man that is, in this world or
in her life. So what am I doing? And what do I expect to happen? I think about
the door I axed through. The landowner must surely have seen it by now, that
must mean that he's called the cops. I'm sure there's more to her wanting to
leave and quitting her job than I know. And even though I'm being dragged along
this ride, I'm not sure if that means I have the right to ask her any
questions.
You fool, I think. You're still
living a life where you're hoping for a perfect woman instead of settling with
something stable. You fool, leave now, or else you will pay with your life.
What could you possibly gain by coming along here?
The bathroom door opens and she's
standing, posing against the side of the door frame, a smile on her face, and a
see through lingerie hanging from her body. Hanging, holding onto her breasts
and her stuck out hips that highlight her round ass—the edge of which is
what I see from the front. The blood that has swilled around my head, fueling
my cogitation, now rushes to my cock and I try to stay strong. Don't fall for
this siren call. She's spoken to me about her ability to control men, and I'd
always tried to stand above the fray by pretending not to care.
I try to look away from her body.
In a few strides, her hips swinging,
she's in front of me.
So, my hero. I bet you were thinking
about leaving me. Weren't you?
She says this with a smile on those
pouting lips and her hand on my erection that bravely pants from my jeans.
Whatever you mean?
I keep my eyes on hers so that I
may better stay strong. It's a fool's hope. She pushes herself in front of me
and the aroma of her sex, wet I imagine, hits me, and all resolve—if I
ever had any—disappears and I let my hands trail her hips. She's been
chiseled from the greatest material. She's so beautiful it hurts, but right now
it wouldn't matter because my perception has minimized the visual and I only
think in small moves, in small hopes of small moves, in smell, and in lust.
She pushes me down and removes my
pants. I feel her hand moving, like she's always known how to move, and I breathe
so that I don't convulse to her touch. Soon I have all of her in my hands, then
all of me in her. The first shuddering doesn't last long, and I take all of her
in my move. Nibbling, a sweet and sour taste that only she manages to keep so
delicious and as I hear her moan, see her arch her back, I grow larger and I
see that there isn't a thing to stop the desire that launches itself again in
my heart and roars out at her. An anger grows. She smiles at me. I slap ass.
She moans louder. Again and again. I push in. I slap face. A look of surprise.
I slap again. She arches her back. Further pushing to a side she prefers,
further holding myself back. She writhes. I am in charge, but if that was ever
true it lasts until the burst.
The next moment we are next to each
other, now only exploring the skin, leaving the lust behind. Only talking. Now.
Just the talking. That hope that we can penetrate the not knowing with knowing
through talking and the combination of an act that can only be considered
exposure of more than normal.
You liked that?
Of course. I say with a gruff voice
that comes out of nowhere.
She leans herself up on her arm on
one side and stares at me.
Have you ever been scared?
It's an odd question and I ponder
what she means to gain by it.
Just answer.
Why?
You're always scheming, aren't you?
I
want my reward.
Are we over the state line?
She asks as she opens her eyes a
shadow.
Yes. Barely.
Good.
We get the room and she heads
straight for the bathroom.
I stare at the old worn carpet,
smell of smoke in the periphery, and the sheets that have a few stains that
look like they'll never be removed.
I flop down on the bed. I've come a
long way in my life and in her arms, and yet there is always the possibility
that I'm being played. I wouldn't be the first... man that is, in this world or
in her life. So what am I doing? And what do I expect to happen? I think about
the door I axed through. The landowner must surely have seen it by now, that
must mean that he's called the cops. I'm sure there's more to her wanting to
leave and quitting her job than I know. And even though I'm being dragged along
this ride, I'm not sure if that means I have the right to ask her any
questions.
You fool, I think. You're still
living a life where you're hoping for a perfect woman instead of settling with
something stable. You fool, leave now, or else you will pay with your life.
What could you possibly gain by coming along here?
The bathroom door opens and she's
standing, posing against the side of the door frame, a smile on her face, and a
see through lingerie hanging from her body. Hanging, holding onto her breasts
and her stuck out hips that highlight her round ass—the edge of which is
what I see from the front. The blood that has swilled around my head, fueling
my cogitation, now rushes to my cock and I try to stay strong. Don't fall for
this siren call. She's spoken to me about her ability to control men, and I'd
always tried to stand above the fray by pretending not to care.
I try to look away from her body.
In a few strides, her hips swinging,
she's in front of me.
So, my hero. I bet you were thinking
about leaving me. Weren't you?
She says this with a smile on those
pouting lips and her hand on my erection that bravely pants from my jeans.
Whatever you mean?
I keep my eyes on hers so that I
may better stay strong. It's a fool's hope. She pushes herself in front of me
and the aroma of her sex, wet I imagine, hits me, and all resolve—if I
ever had any—disappears and I let my hands trail her hips. She's been
chiseled from the greatest material. She's so beautiful it hurts, but right now
it wouldn't matter because my perception has minimized the visual and I only
think in small moves, in small hopes of small moves, in smell, and in lust.
She pushes me down and removes my
pants. I feel her hand moving, like she's always known how to move, and I breathe
so that I don't convulse to her touch. Soon I have all of her in my hands, then
all of me in her. The first shuddering doesn't last long, and I take all of her
in my move. Nibbling, a sweet and sour taste that only she manages to keep so
delicious and as I hear her moan, see her arch her back, I grow larger and I
see that there isn't a thing to stop the desire that launches itself again in
my heart and roars out at her. An anger grows. She smiles at me. I slap ass.
She moans louder. Again and again. I push in. I slap face. A look of surprise.
I slap again. She arches her back. Further pushing to a side she prefers,
further holding myself back. She writhes. I am in charge, but if that was ever
true it lasts until the burst.
The next moment we are next to each
other, now only exploring the skin, leaving the lust behind. Only talking. Now.
Just the talking. That hope that we can penetrate the not knowing with knowing
through talking and the combination of an act that can only be considered
exposure of more than normal.
You liked that?
Of course. I say with a gruff voice
that comes out of nowhere.
She leans herself up on her arm on
one side and stares at me.
Have you ever been scared?
It's an odd question and I ponder
what she means to gain by it.
Just answer.
Why?
You're always scheming, aren't you?
I
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