The Man Who Never Missed by Steve Perry Page B

one buttock, marvelling at the smoothness of her perfect too-pale skin. He moved his hand around over her hip, feeling the padded sharpness of the bone pointing at him. She lifted her leg and pointed her toes at the ceiling, opening up for him. Her vaginal lips were delicate, hot and slick, and she moaned again as he traced them, first the outer, then the inner. She shuddered as he touched her clitoris, and dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back. He slid down, then, to taste her there, to smell the musk of her as he softly waggled his tongue back and forth, following the path his fingers had taken a moment before, tasting and probing gently, then deeper, nibbling at her lips with his own.
    “Oh, gods,” she said. “Yes!”
    He lifted her legs with his hands, pushing her knees back, raising her higher and wider. He stabbed deeper with his tongue. She began to move against his mouth, in that oldest of rhythms. She came hard, he could feel the pulse around his tongue, against his lips, and he grinned. He flicked his tongue back and forth a few more times.
    She tangled her hands in his hair and pulled his face away. “Easy. Let me catch my breath before you do any more of that.”
    “No problem,” he said.
    She moved suddenly, sliding across the jet silk, turning and taking his penis into her mouth in a single, smooth motion. He felt her lips touch the base as she took the length of him into her throat. Damn! She moved, and he felt like a boy again, so hard he was afraid his organ would burst. All the learned techniques with all the partners over all the years meant nothing, his control was completely gone. When she found the base of his prostate with her finger and pressed, he felt as if a dam had burst within his groin. Oh, God!
    When he stopped throbbing, she pulled away slowly, flicking the tip of his still-hard penis with her tongue.
    She turned around to snuggle next to him.
    “Now I know what an avalanche must feel like,” he said.
    “It was pretty good, wasn’t it?” She smiled at him.
    Khadaji propped himself up on one elbow. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he was sure of that. And she seemed to exude sexual attraction, more now than before the shattering climax she’d just given him. He reached for her and hugged her to him, sliding into her as she rolled onto her back and clasped his buttocks with both hands. She was tight, but lubricated, and they fit together as if they had been custom-designed for each other. The dance became frantic, as they pounded each other faster and faster. “I—love—you,” he said, his voice keeping time with his thrusts. But the words were lost in the storm.
     
    Pen was sitting quietly in the center of his bed, his eyes closed, when Khadaji came into the room. It was late, only a couple of hours before Khadaji’s shift was to begin and he was tired. Though hardly unhappy.
    Pen said, “And…?”
    There was no need to say more. They had developed a feel for each other’s mood, at times. “She is wonderful,” Khadaji said. “I love her.”
    Pen nodded, but said nothing. There was a long pause.
    “I can’t explain it,” Khadaji began. “She—”
    “There is no need to explain. I understand. The time was approaching and now it is here.”
    Somehow, that sounded ominous. “The time?”
    “For me to continue upon my circuit. And you on yours.”
    Khadaji was stunned. “What?”
    Pen smiled. “You will want to be with your beloved. You have things to learn from her.”
    “But—but—that doesn’t mean—”
    “Ah, but it does,” Pen said, his voice soft. He unfolded his legs from the meditation knot and shifted to the edge of the bed, then stood. He faced Khadaji, still smiling. “You’ve learned what I can teach you. What you need now is new teachers, and time. Experience will fill in many of the gaps.”
    Khadaji stared at the robed figure, still feeling shocked. Sure, he’d said in the beginning it was only temporary, but,