18 comments/ 145008 views/ 13 favorites Arrow of Cupid By: Enzian He rose from his bed and stood in the dark, leaving her asleep in his bed. He looked out his bedroom window onto the street in a reverie of contentment, contemplating the events of the day. He remembered her kisses, remembered him inside her mouth. He remembered the sweetness of her pussy, remembered as she let him take her anal virginity earlier in the afternoon, her fear, her tears and her joy. Standing over her sleeping form, her hair falling across her peaceful face, he leaned and kissed her forehead ________ A month ago, he found her in the park on a Saturday afternoon. She sat on a park bench, in the shade, reading Thomas Pynchon's "V." She looked up at him and smiled. He stopped his bike and took off his glasses. "I just got finished with Gravity's Rainbow," he said. "I think I've read all of Pynchon's novels," she replied. "Did you see the Simpsons episode where Pynchon was teaching Marge to write?" "Heh. The Harpooned Heart." "Too funny! ... y'know, I don't usually try to pick up beautiful women in the park, but in your case, I'll make an exception." They walked across Clark Street, up Lincoln, to Ranalli's. He had a weissbier. She had a salad and ice tea. The August sun beat down on the bustling patio, the kids on rollerblades swished by on the sidewalk, the sounds of the city wrapped around them. A wind blew in off the lake, stirring her skirt around her calves, fluttering the napkins off the table. She leaned over to pick one up, and he saw down her blouse, two pretty little breasts in a pale blue brassiere. She sternly looked up at him, as he rolled his eyes skyward, putting his hands up like Sgt Schultz, "I see no-thing! NO-THINK!" She laughed in spite of herself. He was charming, intelligent and funny, there has to be something wrong with this guy, she wondered how long it would take her to find out. But for now, in this moment, he was perfect company, a delight. What would he be like in bed? Stop thinking this way. He's just some cute guy on a bike. They talked about books, and music, a little politics, where they had grown up. She was from Winnetka. He was from coastal Maine. Both had gone to business school, he to University of Chicago, she went to DePaul. She kissed him when he got back on his bike. ___________ He sent her email. She sent him voice mail at work. He sent her flowers. They talked, and talked, and talked. They drank coffee all night, and walked along North Avenue Beach. They went to hear jazz at Joe Segal's Jazz Showcase. They sneaked kisses in the Lincoln Park Zoo, in front of the zebras. They fell in love. __________ They met again at Nookies' Restaurant for Sunday brunch. She wore shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. He wore faded black jeans and a Neil Gaiman Sandman t-shirt. Coffee, a big glass of juice and spinach omelettes, then the reading of the papers, her New York Times, his Chicago Tribune. After he paid the bill, they walked through Old Town, down by the Buddhist temple. She kissed him again by the chessboards. Suspended in time, she felt a flush of desire, a knot unkinking in her chest, a pang of love strike her. Cupid, the mad god, is not some smiling infant putto from a Valentine's Day card, to fall in love is to be shot through, painfully staggering, dumbstruck. She put her head on his chest and held him, as he stroked her hair, lifted her face to his and kissed her gently on the forehead, on the nose, on the mouth, she opened her mouth to him, their tongues met, tenuous, nervous. Her pussy bloomed, her hands clenched, she stirred. She is Patti. With an i. She is the sort of nice girl who grew up with her face in a book. Listened to the art-rock bands and Prince while her friends were listening to B96 and the bubble gum boy bands. Couldn't stand the boys in her high school, had a brief fling with a boy in college. When she realized he would never be a good match, she cheerfully dumped him. In B school, she'd met a guy who had really turned her on, but he couldn't make her happy. And dumped him too. He is Jamie. A good boy, his mother's pride and joy. Bridgton, Maine, on the Atlantic coast, is tough country, and produces tough people, but Jamie was elegant. Every girl liked him, his long eyelashes and perfect mouth, his stringy body in running shorts, his way with words, the strange poems he wrote. His oil paintings he framed in woodshop. His teachers liked him, his odd precise vocabulary. In short, had he tried to be popular, he could have. Instead, he studied, he ran, he wrote, and he went away to college, far from Bridgton, Maine. A few of the braver girls in high school had taken him in the woods and sucked his cock. Amanda from college had tearfully let him lay her down and fuck her, and she eventually grew to like it, but the relationship did not grow. Four years in the Army, a few nights with bar frauleins and Japanese yoruno-onna hardly counted, he could barely remember their names. He met a few girls in business school getting his MBA, but nothing clicked. Everyone was too busy, or the chemistry wasn't right. All afternoon, they walked, her hand in his, finally back to his apartment in Old Town. They walked up the two flights of stairs. He fumbled for his keys and opened the door. His cat came out to greet them, a bread colored tomcat. He picked the purring cat up, and scratched his ear. "Meet Dmitri.," he said. The cat purred. She gingerly petted him. "Hey, how ya doin', big guy?," she asked. The cat looked at her with imperturbable green eyes, still purring. She came in, a bit hesitantly, her arms behind her back. Bookshelves lined the walls. Hanging over a long couch was a painting of a girl dressed in blue, walking on the sea, a cello floating submerged in the water, its bridge above the water, the f holes wriggling below the surface of the water, the girl's face dreamlike, her arms held before her. His computer sat on a flat door in the hallway, a laptop, a hub sprouting a host of USB cables, a sheaf of photographs stacked beside a scanner, his cell phone charging on top of the monitor, a coffee cup beside a graphics tablet. High above, hung from the ceiling, a Chinese lantern lamp with its panes of painted glass and tassels. A good Isfahan carpet in the main room, four Victorian chairs around a circular table, a Victorian armchair, with padded arms, stood in the corner. "Wow, these are really fine antiques, Jamie." "Lots of estate sales." he said, opening a bottle of cold pinot grigiot. "Drink wine?" "Only white" "What luck. Try this stuff. PG is good for the soul, they say." She looked around his bookshelves, as he ejected a CD from his changer, and put in Bill Evans Trio, and hit randomize. He pressed play. The room came to life. "Gloria's Step" she said. "When I hear this, " he said, "I always see a pretty woman in a good dress, walking rapidly down the street, in a set of good shoes, not high heels. You know, a lot of guys think high heels are sexy, but I can't stand high heels on women. A sadistic orthopedic surgeon must have invented them to induce ankle fractures in rich women." She laughed. "My worst ankle sprain I was in a pair of my Mom's high heels. Wore them out on the sidewalk, and tripped up. I came in the house, crying, and my Mom was mad at me for breaking the heel." They sat at his table for a moment. "If I could return to any point in time, I'd go back to Greenwich Village on a hot June evening in 1961, order a glass of wine at the Village Vanguard, and hear Bill Evans and Paul Motian and Scott LaFaro play this live. Scott died in a car accident, not long after this was recorded. Bill Evans never really got over it, and didn't play for almost a year. He grieved for Scott for years. Bill Evans. Heroin's first poster boy." The song changed. "This is Jade Dream. Scott LaFaro's tune. Always wonder what could have happened if he'd lived." He sat pensively, his hands together like a Hindu greeting, his elbows on the tabletop. "Makes you wonder. Life is so strange." She pulled his hands down and kissed his palms. He kissed the top of her head, the smell of her shampoo, the texture of her combed brunette hair, the heat of her hands on his wrists as she held them, the feel of her lips and teeth as she leaned over his hands. He took her face in his hands, and lifted her to his mouth. He held the back of her head as he kissed her gently, then more forcefully, pulling her to him, her breasts against him, his arm around her waist like a dancer. She sobbed and looked away. "This is too perfect. Something's got to be wrong with you Jamie. I think I love you. I can't help myself." And kissed him again, fiercely, pulling herself up to the tips of her toes. He softly bit her ear, her neck, the skin of her shoulder, the hollow of her neck, the upper curve of her breasts. "Can I undress you?" he asked. She nodded, dumbly, kicking off her shoes. He unbuttoned her blouse, kissing her nipples inside her bra, her stomach, her pubis bone, he unbuttoned her shorts, she wriggled out of them, leaving her shuddering in her underwear. He stood behind her, pulling her back to his chest, put his fingers between her legs, delicate fingers, probing fingers, touching her breasts, leaning her ass into the curve of his body, the crack of her ass felt the bulge of his penis through his pants, her panties sodden, he leaned her forward, putting his third finger into her vagina and touched her clitoris with his heel of his thumb. She pushed back against him, her head against his neck, in bliss. He whispered in her ear, "Oh, what a pretty body she has" and her mouth opened in a shattering orgasm, she leaned forward and staggered, whimpering, as his fingers played her like a classical guitarist's rigid curved fingers, walking her forward a few steps as she came, his middle finger hooked into her, lifting her by her pelvis as she came. She wriggled away from his hooked grip, lay down on the couch, her face red and sweating, her mouth opening and closing as she regained her breath. He brought her glass of wine, she drank half of it in three gulps, thirstily, greedily. She wiped her forehead with her forearm, and grinned unsteadily. She undressed him, pulling his t-shirt up over his head, sucking his nipples, pulling at his belt, pulling it out like a snake. Unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his pants down around his hips, she kissed his penis and licked it delicately, smelling it, holding his balls in her hand. She sat him down in the armchair, pulled off his shoes and pants, and knelt before him. Gingerly holding his penis in her hands, mysterious thing, touching it gently, smelling his odor, feeling its length, kissing the tip, her small mouth wrapped around his cock, her hands feeling his ass. Softly licking his frenulum, his hands like rough combs in her hair, tracing her ears, her breasts against his thighs, the warm breath from her nose blowing over his pubic hair. His hips began to move, his ass clenching, as he pushed gently into her mouth. He came, a rush of bitter semen into her mouth, pumping hot from inside him, his body heaving, juddering, as her lips pursed around his member, her fingers toying with his balls. She swallowed, and licked him. "Aaagh! Oh, stop, it's so sensitive. Oh, please, Patti." She looked up at him and grinned. "Serves you right. Making me stand up and walk while I cum, hanging on your fingers. God. It's so kinky." He went in the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He came out with a fluffy towel, and a bar of soap. "Wanna wash your pretty body?" "Only if you get in there with me." He soaped her body, starting with her neck and back, her breasts, her arms and legs. He washed between her legs. Standing behind her, he put his cock lengthwise between her buttocks, pressing up to her back, sliding up and down the soapy slick cleft, pulling at her nipples as he soaped her. Washing away the soap with the shower head, playing between her pussy lips, almost ticklish, his gentle hands, washing her armpits, she felt exquisitely vulnerable, almost a child. He knelt down before her in the shower, and put his hands between her thighs, pressing them apart, opening her pussy to him. He inserted the point of his tongue into the Y, touching her clitoris, then spreading her wider, his tongue spread her labia, she felt dizzy as his fingers reached behind her and spread her buttocks, putting his index finger on her anus, delicately touching it. So nasty and clever, touching her ass. She shuddered and came again, sobbing in the shower, her back arched, her face to the ceiling, holding onto the shower rail for dear life. He got out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on a bathrobe. While she dried herself off, he rummaged around in his closet, and came out with a long Japanese wrap-around robe. He put it around her shoulders, as she combed her hair with his brush. "Mmmm. So nice. Is it silk?" "It's a yukata. Pongee. Ki Tsumugi." "I guess that means it's silk" "Yeah." He rubbed his hand down the small of her back, over her butt. "Does great things for your ass." "You like my ass, don't you?" "It's mighty fine, Patti." "I noticed you keep feeling at it. Pervert." "Now, how can I not like your ass? It's just my kind of ass." "Ooh. Thanks. I think." "I have plans for your ass." "No you don't. It's dirty. It has to hurt. One girlfriend of mine told me it almost killed her." "Nah. Not the way I do it." "Really?" "Yeah. " He combed his hair, standing behind her. "The secret is to let the girl run the show. I'm not into pain, giving or getting it. You say stop, I stop." "Would you, like, really fuck me?" "Differently. It's not like the porn movies. They don't show you how to get ready. Most of the thrill is just getting you to let me, and your reactions, and how you feel about it. Remember, you're in control. You have to talk to me." "I've always wondered what it's like." "You want to do this? Let me do you in the ass? I'm not pressuring you to do this. It's a big step, and you may not like this at all." "I'd like to try, with you, Jamie. You know how to please me. And you're so gentle. Nobody ever touched me like you do, before. You've got kind hands. You make me want to do new things. Pervert." She hit him in the butt with her hairbrush. Laughting, she ran into his bedroom and crouched down behind the bed. He came in, pretended not to know where she was. He got down on the carpet and low-crawled around the corner of the bed. There she was, her butt to his face. He reached out one finger, and poked her ass with his finger, the silk jammed between her buttocks. She shrieked, grabbed her ass and stood up. He backed up, but before he could get to his feet, she had jumped on him, her legs across his waist, trying to pin him down. He rolled over, tipping her on her side, grabbed her and kissed her forehead. She wriggled a bit, trying to get away, but he kissed her mouth, and she moaned, putting her left leg over his body, turning him on his back, crouching over him. Flipping her yukata back, exposing her pussy, she rose on her knees, held his penis, and lowered her pussy onto his thick cock, groaning with pleasure as it rose into her body. Throwing her hair back, she rose on her knees, slowly lifting her body off his cock, sliding back down, the delicious friction, the feeling of her labia crushing down onto his pelvis. He reached up and cupped her breasts, his thumbs and forefingers rolling her nipples back and forth. She ground her pussy on his pubic hair, leaning forward, her elbows on the carpet, kissing him, her tongue in his mouth. He reached up behind her, with both his hands, and delicately touched her tight asshole. She groaned into his mouth, pushing her butt back onto his finger. He held one cheek in each hand, raising and lowering her onto his pole. "You're the best, Patti " he whispered in her ear. "I love the feel of you, the taste of you, the way you laugh. Everything about you. Don't you ever go away. You're my girl, Patti." Her mind and pussy opened to him like morning glories turn toward the sun. She could feel the petals opening, the giddy sense of unalloyed happiness, the first morning of summer vacation. The arrows of the mad god, piercing her heart, piercing up into her pussy, piercing her ass. She would do this for him, she would let him open her ass and love her there. She would. She wanted to. She wanted to feel him, to please him, to be his girl. He said so, didn't he? Oh. There's got to be something wrong with him. Maybe assfucking is what's wrong with him. He might be mean. He might hurt me. No he's not going to hurt me. He's perfect. He drives me crazy. He makes me come standing up. I can't stand it. I haven't had this many orgasms with a man in my life. And she came again, crouched over him, her hair hanging in his face. She rolled off of him, her neck cramping from her orgasm, her pussy raw from her wild ride, her arms splayed out on the carpet, sweating, twitching, her legs open to the cool air. He turned his head to look at her. She looked at the ceiling, her chest heaving. "You were fucking tremendous, Jamie." "Glad to be of service, madam." "You didn't come" "My refractory period is long." "Refractory?" "It takes me a long time to come twice, half an hour minimum. Some men are like that." "Oh. Still want to do my butt, you pervert?" "Pervert Jamie. Comin' up behind you." "What a terrible pun." "O-pun your ass, darling." "Terrible." "You know you want it. Bad girls always do." "I'm not a bad girl. They just draw me that way." "Jessica Rabbit. What she ever saw in Roger Rabbit I'll never know." "Maybe they fucked like bunnies." "Yeah right. I'll bet she was playing pat-a-cake with Popeye the Sailor. Or maybe with Dick Tracy." "Heh, heh, heh... he said Dick." "Beavis and Butthead. Some intellectual you are." "Tell me about it, Mister Roger Rabbit pat-a-cake." He stood her up, and kissed her. He wrapped her in the yukata again, and put on his bathrobe. She came into the bathroom with him, as he opened up the medicine chest. "What's in there, lover boy?" "Almond oil, if you must know, Miss Curious About What's In People's Medicine Chest." "And what do you intend to do with almond oil, Mister Pervert?" "I intend to lovingly sodomize you, and introduce you to the joys of butt sex, my darling Patti. Nya-hah-hah!" "You terrify me, sir. What if your schwantz does not fit into my tuchus?" "How will you ever know, if you do not try? They say every woman has anal sex twice, the second time to see if it was as bad as she remembered it." "Very funny, Mister. Keep on going like this, and see if I'll bend over for you at all." "But, darling, consider the joys of depravity, the sheer naughtiness of being gently sodomized by the man you love, your beautiful asshole wrapped around my cock, giving me all of your pretty body, oh the sordid pleasure of butt sex alone will bring you back again and again to this den of iniquity and into my perverted arms." "You're so bad. What do you want me to do?" "Take the pillows off the bed, and put one on the armchair." "Kneel on it. Put this pillow under your head. Are you comfortable?" She put one knee on the chair, then the other, opening them, the air cooled her pussy. Nervously, she accepted the second pillow, and laid her head down on the top of the armchair, her breath trembling as when she was just a teenager being fucked for the first time. He lifted his yukata over her hips, over her bottom, her knees apart, the air conditioning making her a little cold, and feeling terribly exposed. He put a very small quantity of almond oil in his hand, and smoothed it over her ass, her thighs, her waist, down toward her bush, between her legs, rubbing it into the skin, like lotion. Arrow of Cupid Ch. 02 Preface: I am astonished at the volume of positive response to the first Jamie and Patti story. Your encouraging words have made me come to believe there is a place for this sort of heartfelt emotion in erotica, you know who you are. In answer to a repeated question, Jamie and Patti are not real people. Anal sex is by far the most intimate and intense encounter in the entire sexual inventory. I chose this genre because it was the most difficult to write correctly, and because a great deal of unwise, unrealistic and patently unsafe nonsense has been written about it. I write love into my stories, because I must. ... Monday morning came early. Jamie rose from his bed and shambled to the bathroom. The sound of the shower woke Patti. He came back into the bedroom, his towel draped over his shoulder. Dmitri stood up, stretched his back and yawned, his little fangs showing, and marched off to the kitchen. Patti lay in bed, naked, the sheets pulled up to her chin, grinning. "Slug.", he said. "Are you going to get up?" "I am up." "No, you're not. You're lying in bed." "I can't get up. There's a naked man in the room." He wiggled his penis at her. "Naked man." He dived at her, wrestling and tickling her, she shrieked and tried to get away. It was no use. Soon he had her pinned on her back beneath him. He stooped and kissed her mouth. She put her arms around his back, and moaned into his mouth. They lay there, writhing in the sheets. Her leg came out and wrapped around his body. She reached for his cock. "Fuck me, naked man." He opened her legs with his thigh, and entered her, with no foreplay, just a simple entry, clean and swift. She sighed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He slowly withdrew, and entered her again. The two of them gently wrestled, her head against his shoulder as he took her, his buttocks clenching, his thighs powerfully moving. His body rested on her, his hands in her hair. "Let me get on top" she muttered in his ear. He withdrew, and rolled on his back. "Naked man", she whispered, as she came to her knees, taking his cock in her fist. "I love you, naked man." She straddled him, taking him again, guiding his cock into herself. She sank down onto him, leaned forward, his hands on her breasts. Her pace quickened, she arched her back and began to ride him in earnest. Her breasts jiggled prettily as she gathered her will and came, her voice thick with lust, her hands touching her breasts, her hair flying in the air. Coming to a stop, she lay down onto his chest, kicking her legs out from under herself. He felt her wild heart beating, her body on top of him, the rise and fall of her chest. The seconds ticked by, Dmitri jumped up onto the bed and meowed into Jamie's face. Jamie reached out and grabbed the cat, hugging him to them. Dmitri purred, wriggled away, his butt and tail visible as he bounded off the bed. "Dmitri's jealous.", she said "Dmitri's hungry. With Dmitri, his stomach comes first. You know what he was saying? Give me my stinky food. Speaking of food, I'm hungry." "I'm taking a shower.", she said, sitting on the side of the bed. "You know where everything is, I hope." She came out of the shower and dried herself, looking at herself in the mirror. She found last night's clothes where he had neatly laid them, She found her panties, went to the living room to find her bra and clothes where he had laid them, and finished dressing.in yesterday's clothes, The smell of good coffee came from the kitchen. He came into the bathroom, fished around in a drawer. "Aha", he said, "a clean toothbrush, still in its box." She opened it, and brushed her teeth, while he returned to the kitchen. The smell of toasting bread, and... bacon?" Her stomach growled. She was suddenly ravenous. As she came into the kitchen he slid an omelette off a frypan onto a plate. "Will wonders never cease? You can cook, too?" "Mmm. How do you take your coffee, cream only?" "How do you know?" "I've only watched you drink five dozen cups at Nookies'" The two of them sat at his kitchen, silently wolfing down the omelette and toast. Dmitri ate his stinky food from his dish. "How's your ass?" "Well, I know I was fucked there, if that's what you mean. Doesn't hurt, really. Just an odd sort of feeling, I'm aware of it, but it doesn't really bother me." "That's a relief. I worried about that. How do you feel?" "Jamie, stop worrying. I loved it. I'm okay. I'm not a China doll." "That's me, always worrying." "I remember your joke about every woman having anal sex twice. I would like to do it again, when the time is right." "Mmm. Not too soon. I'm not an ass freak, I like the total package." They put their dishes in the dishwasher. Jamie finished dressing, chinos, a white shirt and a tie. It was still relatively early, Jamie strapped on his watch. "I need to get home and change for work." "Let's cab it to your place, then I can take it to work. When do you have to get to work, Patti?" "At nine. Still plenty of time." He locked the door to the apartment. They walked down the stairs, hailed a cab. On the way to her apartment, Jamie kissed him again. "I'm going to work, smelling like pussy, you know.", he said. "You mean, smelling like dick", she replied. "Dick? Dick? Let the evidence show the plaintiff demanded to be fucked with my just-washed penis, as clean as Ivory Soap can get it. The secretary at the front desk will say 'Good morning, Jamie' and then tell her girlfriends at lunch, 'Jamie came in this morning, with the ripe odor of pussy all over him, I wonder who he's boning now.' " "A girl wouldn't say that. A girl would say you smelled like dick. Let them wonder. They had their chances. You belong to me, you and your smelly dick." "Ooh, you're so possessive. Greedy thing." "Oh, please. The dick, at least, belongs to me. Motion for possession." "A sorry state of affairs, this, when a man's dick belongs to someone else. Property law covers this somewhere." "Have to be personal property. Chattels. Not moveable property. I'd still be attached to the cock." "Deposit of effects creates obligation, Jamie." "Motion for possession denied. Thirteenth Amendment says, 'Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude'" "Ah, but it continues, 'except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted', and you could be charged with sodomy." "Thought this was a chattels case. Separate charge. And sodomy is legal in this state anyway. Strike that utterly irrelevant remark from the record." "I'll strike you", she said, and spanked his thigh. He kissed her again, as the cab pulled up to her apartment building. ... Jamie and Patti met again at Nookies' restaurant, on Friday afternoon after work. She waved at him, put down her briefcase, and hugged him. "What are we doing tonight?" she asked. "Thought about going to see some jazz again. Let's order food, then walk up to The Bulls and catch a few sets by Art Parker. The pretty waitress took their order. They made small talk, eating between sentences. "I think the first set starts at eight", he said. "Want to go like we are, or get changed? I have to get rid of this briefcase, anyway." "Fine. Let's walk over to your place, and cab it over to The Bulls." Meal finished, he paid, they walked hand in hand down Wells Street and east toward Inner Lake Shore Drive to her apartment building. Into the lobby, waiting for the elevator, he kissed her again. The elevator door opened, they stepped inside. She pressed 21. The doors closed, they were alone. She pressed herself to him. Their mouths locked in a tender kiss. Her hand strayed to his crotch, holding him delicately, rubbing him through his pants. The elevator rose, the lights winked as they rose. The doors opened, she grabbed his hand, pulling him down the dimly lit hallway, to her door. Reaching in her purse, she unlocked the door. To the left was her kitchen. Ahead was her living room with a view of the lake, four sailboats sailing south. Clean, sparse, Nordic, her tastes were simple and elegant. On one wall, in a mahogany frame, a large lithograph of a country landscape, richly detailed, a barn, a farmhouse, a farmer plowing a field. By a stream, a tiny snake sunned himself. Beyond the farm, the woods and hills stretched out. He peered at the image through the glass. Patti came out of her bedroom, in a long blue sundress. She came up behind him, and looked over his shoulder. "That's by Susan Hunt-Wulkowitz. I bought that from her on Fullerton. Cost me a ton, but it's my favorite piece by her. She exhibits at Old Town Art Fair every year. You won't find this for sale anymore." "Look at the plowlines in the field. That wouldn't be done by a horse-drawn plow. Those plowlines would have been done by a tractor-drawn plow." She smacked him. "It's always something with you, country boy. Come here, you." She led him to the center of the carpet, unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. She knelt down before him, unzipped him and pulled his pants around his thighs. She took his penis in her hand. "Mind if I give you a blowjob, country boy?" "Oh, lord. What have I done to deserve this?" She inhaled the scent of him, fondling the length of him, putting the whole thing into her mouth, the length of him. He stiffened against her wet tongue, a near-magical transformation, as he erected into the loving warmth of her mouth. She held his hips and suckled him, holding his balls gingerly in her hand. She opened her mouth, and licked the length of his erect penis, then took one of his balls in her mouth, her tongue caressing, possessing. Her tongue felt the hairs of his scrotum and the wrinkles of him. He was warm and hard, the ovoid shape of his testicle, his trembling thigh against her cheek. Yes, his cock did belong to her, this beautiful man and his desire. Happy, deeply moved by his desire, in the late afternoon light, she made love to his cock, licking him, bringing him at last to a trembling satisfaction, the pleasant flavor of his semen in her mouth, rich and almost sweet. How different cum tastes, from one day to the next! Why had his previous cum been bitter? Perhaps he hadn't had a decent cum in a while before he first came in her mouth. Something he ate? She laughed secretly to herself, swallowing him. Problem solved, she would keep him in regular cums for the foreseeable future. She was no China doll. She was his lover, her heart cried out for him. She stood and opened his mouth, inserting two fingers and his tongue touched them, licked them, his lips closed around them. She stood proudly before him, the taste of his cum in her mouth, her heart surging, confident in her power over his desire. What he wanted, she would give him. Anything. Oh, anything. For Jamie, she would do anything. They dressed and left, out into the street, and found a cab. Jamie and Patti descended the stairs into The Bulls, subterranean, smoke swirling near the ceiling. They found a table near the stage, against the wall. He ordered a beer. She ordered a glass of Riesling. The band set up, lugging in amps, drums, a standup bass, a Kurzweil keyboard. Cables came out of bags, connected to gear with the idle precision of repetition, the drum kit assembled, cymbals hung and placed. Art set up his wind controller gear, a short rack of synth boxes, reverbs and pre-amps, pulsing in red, green and yellow like a Christmas tree. Taking his instrument from its case, looking roughly like a clarinet, Art plugs in, and plays an impossibly perfect eight octave run, his thumb walking the octave keys, far more than a sax or clarinet. Sitting in the shadows, Jamie leans Patti against him, his hand crooks around her shoulder. Her head is erect, watching the patrons take their places. From other tables, women look at Jamie and Patti, so obviously in love. New love is beautiful above all things in life. Springing from the rich ground of youth, like American Beauty roses in late spring, powerful, growing swiftly, emerald green, setting buds and flowering prodigiously in the early summer sun, red and rich as blood. New love is unmistakeable, magnificent in its simplicity, two people next to each other, in the dim chiaroscuro of The Bulls. At the end of the second set, Jamie got the waitress and paid the tab. Leading Patti up the narrow steps, out into the night air and yellow streets, Jamie felt almost giddy, Patti by his side, her hand in his. The sound of her sandals on the concrete of the sidewalk was the loveliest thing he had heard all night, a feminine step. "Let's go back to my place, what do you say, Jamie? I know your place is closer." "Why not? Sounds like a plan." "I'm glad. Come up and see me sometime." "Mae West" "A hard man is good to find." "Heh, more Mae West" Out onto Lincoln Avenue, ino the night air, they hailed a cab in the Friday night southbound traffic. She lay on his shoulder. He turned and kissed her hair. She lay against him, as the cab went down Wells. Up to her apartment, she leaned against him, her hand rubbing his back. He was warm. His starched shirt was smooth, moving under her hand. She felt oddly comforted by the gesture, her arm wrapped around him, he kissed the top of her head. The door opened, they went down the hallway. She unlocked the door, they walked to the window, watching the traffic moving below on Lake Shore and the red winking light of the water crib far out in the black lake. "This really is a wonderful view", he said. "It should be, I pay enough for it." She turned on the kitchen light. "Want anything cold?" "A glass of white, if you've got it." "Aha. Laid in some pinot grigio, part of my nefarious plan to get you up here." "Castello Banfi, Tuscan wine", she said, sipping her own glass, handing him his glass. "Not expensive, wonderful stuff. Since I started seeing you, I've been trying to learn about whites." "What do you usually drink?" "Reds, merlots mostly. Rodney Strong when I can get it" "People who call expensive merlot a snob wine are just mad because they can't afford it. Lot of horrible merlots, too, best used to tan shoe leather", he said. "I got used to the good stuff with my Dad.", she said "What's he like?" Her face brightened, looking into the dark, "He's a good man. I was Daddy's little girl, adored him as a child. Resented him as a teenager, went off to college, came back, and he became my best friend. Well read, sort of tweedy type, everything put away, gourmet cook, loves art, books and music. You remind me a bit of him, you know." "Quite a compliment. Your mother?" "Soccer mom, a real joiner, PTA, reading clubs, you name it. Good taste, expensive simple clothes, loves my father to death. Got a good education, didn't do much with it." "She raised you. That's the good thing she did with it." "That's so sweet, Jamie." She put her wine glass down, and began to unbutton his shirt. "Jesus, Jamie, you are a handsome man." Her face against his chest, her mouth against his nipple, she licked him "There is absolutely nothing I wouldn't do for you." His fingers curled into her hair, his mouth against the top of her head. "You are wonderful to me. For you, I will do anything, Patti." "Fuck me. Just fuck me. That'll do fine." He took off his shirt, and unzipped her sundress. She shrugged it off, picked it up and threw it on the couch. He kicked off his shoes as she began to unbuckle his belt. Pushing him down on the couch, she took off his shoes and socks. Pulling him to his feet, she unbuckled his pants. Putting her finger in his zipper, she slowly pulled it down, and pulled his pants down. "I love undressing you, Jamie. Always let me undress you." Standing in their underwear, they kissed, her fingers finding their way into his boxers, to his ass, holding him, pushing him to her. Thrusting her pelvis forward, she ground into him, moaning into his mouth as his fingers unbuckled her brassiere. There they stood, in her living room, joined, his hands exploring into the back of her panties. "This way, handsome man," she said as she led him by the hand into her bedroom. Her bed was covered in a white coverlet and four pillows in white cotton pillowcases. Her bedstand was covered in books, a copy of Anais Nin, Delta of Venus on top. On her wall, in a purple frame, hung a print of Gauguin's Spirit of the Dead Watching. The painting showed a dark woman lay on her face on a yellow blanket. From the left, a strange hooded woman gazed balefully with a luminescent eye on the woman on the bed. A riot of purple and pink, with white explosions formed the background of the painting. In black, Gaugin's painted script: Manao tupapau. The tupapao spirits watch. She pulled him down, onto the bed. She lay beside him and held his face, kissing him fiercely. His hands went to her breasts, taking off her brassiere, manipulating her nipples. Her tongue entered his mouth and found his tongue. She rolled on top of him, her face descended to his nipples, kissing them, licking them. They rolled and kissed, hands everywhere, in her hair, in his boxers, around each other. Rolling him over, her fingers curled into the elastic of his boxers. He raised his hips and she pulled down his boxers around his thighs. She held his cock in her hand, she licked it, kissed it and her mouth enveloped it, strongly sucking, his hands in her hair. Groaning, he pushed up, into her mouth as her tongue swirled around him. Rising from him, she kissed his mouth, his hands pulling down her panties and she kicked them off. Kneeling over him, she held his cock in her hand, straddled him, and sank down slowly, firmly impaling herself on him. Holding her hips, he rose against her, straining to completely fill her, grinding against her. Raising his knees against her ass, he leaned her forward and she moaned, her head flung back, her eyes half closed in bliss. Pulling her body down against his, he whispered in her ear, telling her how tight she was around him. Whimpering, she pushed down against him, as he encouraged her to cum. She put her hands on his chest, lifted herself, and bounced on him. The urge collected, she arched and called out sharply as the orgasm seized her. She trembled, almost weeping, as the orgasm shook her. Gasping, she lay down against his chest, clutching him fiercely. "Jesus, that was a good one, Jamie. Tell you what, I've got an idea." "What has your wicked mind conceived, Patti?" "It's wicked all right. I remember you telling me you put that bullet in yourself. I want to put something in you, too. Ever since you fucked my ass, I've been putting it in my own ass." "That would be different. I think I'd like that." "Turn over, big guy." "Be gentle, okay?" "Mwahaha. Let me put some pillows under you.... gawd your ass is so fine, Jamie, up in the air like that." "What have I gotten myself into this time?" "You only have yourself to blame for turning me into an ass freak" Reaching into her nightstand, she pulled out a slim blue dildo and a little bottle of oil. He watched, fascinated, as she smoothed the oil onto her fingers and the dildo. "It's almond oil, like you used on me. I love the feeling of almond oil. I've been dreaming of doing this to you for a week. You really are a sport, letting me do this." "Well, turn about is fair play, I suppose." She pulled off his boxers and caressed his ass with an oily finger, exploring down to the pucker, touching him gingerly. Excited and aroused, the fingers of her left hand touched her clitoris, as the index finger of her left hand slowly pushed into his bottom. He groaned as the finger slid into him. "Does that hurt you, Jamie?" "No, it's wonderful. Take your time." Arrow of Cupid Ch. 02 Her finger burrowed into him, the tight ring slid around her knuckle. Her fingers danced on her own clitoris, as she slowly pushed into him. Her pussy gushed as she saw him writhe, his face contorting in pleasure. Picking up the dildo, she held it against his bottom. Her fingers dug into her own pussy as she carefully inserted the tip of the dildo into him, and as he gasped, she felt herself rise towards another orgasm. Holding the dildo perfectly still, she waited for him to dilate and his sighing to subside. He felt her apply pressure, her excitement and uncertainty as the dildo entered him. The rush of pleasure, his surrender to the invasion, as her shaking fingers gripped the dildo, pushing into his backside. His fingers curled into fists, the intensity of the emotion grabbed his soul, a rush of love washed over him: she controlled him. He lay there, within a hair's breadth of an orgasm, feeling her hand against his ass, the dildo buried in his bottom. He turned his head and heard her beginning to cum. Her hand released the dildo. Furiously rubbing herself with both hands, her frenzied fingers unlocked the orgasm inside herself. She leaned forward as she came, gazing at the blue dildo sliding up and out of her lover's ass. "Fuck my ass, Jamie. Fuck it right now." Jamie rose to his knees, and laid her face down on the pillows. Finding the bottle of oil, he regreased the dildo, and liberally oiled her bottom. His fingers searched and found her asshole, and tenderly entered her. He reached under her waist, found her clitoris and his middle finger began to rub her. She screamed in guttural pleasure, feeling him in her bottom, the insane intensity of the penetration. He delicately pushed and pulled the finger, feeling her loosen around it, then with infinite slowness, pushed the first few centimeters of the blue dildo into her bottom. Patti came to her knees, crying out in happiness, her ass in the air, "oh please Jamie, just fuck it. Just fuck my tight ass with your incredible cock." Jamie slid the dildo into her bottom with one long slow push. Patti pushed her face into the bed, and cried out with the intensity of her pleasure. The dildo sawed her, filled her and withdrew, over and over until she shuddered, her voice breaking. "Give me your cock, Jamie. Push it into me. Jamie, just fuck me, please fuck me." Jamie held her hips, and pushed it into her pussy, in one swift motion. He vigorously fucked her, slamming into her clenching body, he growled and took her as she writhed, in and out of a dozen tiny orgasms. Withdrawing from her, he oiled his cock and held it against her bottom. She pushed back against him, and the cock popped into her asshole. Holding perfectly still, letting her dilate, he felt her pushing down and his cock felt the walls of her rectum, until her buttocks were pressing against his pelvis, buried all the way in her butt. "Jamie, fuck my ass. I want you to cum in my ass." "Patti, I love you, girl. I am going to fuck your ass, and I'm going to cum in you." Jamie pulled his cock back an inch, and pushed back down into her bottom, and pulled back again. Tenderly, he began to fuck her ass, at first slowly. Then with increasing speed, he began to push into her, against her kneeling body, letting her feel his desire. The unbelievable sensation of Jamie's cock pushing and pulling in her bottom drove Patti to a frenzy of passion. "Oh Jamie, fuck my butt. Take my butt. Just fuck me, Jamie. Oh. Oh. Oh." With a burst of insane lust, her fingers found her clitoris, her mind opened and she came again, screaming his name, feeling his cock swell and pulse, his hands clutching her hips, his shudder, his cry, and the flood of hot cum into the depths of her bottom. Jamie withdrew from her, and kissed the back of her neck. Her ass burned. She sank to the pillows, feeling his body laying on her, above her, the sweetness of that moment encompassed her about and she surrendered to joy and the dull bliss of what follows a night of lovemaking. "C'mere you. Get up. Let's take a shower, Patti" She allowed herself to be taken into her bathroom, let into the shower and gently washed, from head to toe. Jamie even washed her hair. His hands, strong and gentle, soaped her every curve and crevasse. Rinsing her, applying conditioner to her hair, playing with her breasts while the conditioner soaked in, then rinsing out the conditioner. He dried her off, and put her own bathrobe around her. Half-dazed, she sat on the toilet, letting him comb out her hair, towel it down and dry it. How the hell did he know where her combs were? She allowed him to blow her hair dry. She sat, entranced, his powerful hands pulled her hair back into a ponytail and put in a ring hairband. He combed his own hair, dried himself off, and led her back into her bedroom. She lay back on the bed, as he spread her legs, and delicately suckled her breasts. Shocked, she felt him kissing his way down her belly, toward her pussy. A surge of pleasure, as his lips found her folds, a gentle lick, the heat of desire rekindled as his tongue found her clitoris. Easily, with concise strokes of his tongue, Jamie touched her, her head thrashed, her hands in his wet hair, her legs closed around his head, and she came yet again in a torrent of vivid pleasure. "God, you're going to kill me if you do that again, Jamie." "You'll die and go straight to heaven." "Been there. You've taken me there, Jamie. My heart can't take it." Jamie chuckled, and kissed her breasts again. "You're a strong girl, Patti. I ought to go on fucking you until the sun comes up." "Jamie, you're breaking me. What am I going to do with you? You're utterly insatiable." "Okay, okay. I'll leave you be. For now...." "I need a hug, Jamie." Nestled together beneath the Gaugin, under the sheets, high above the city of Chicago, they fell asleep. Morning found them, entwined in each other's arms, and love bound them to each other. That is the way of these things: Cupid, the little blind god whose painful arrows pierce our hearts, every one of us, gave them each other. Though there is no fairy tale ending to this story, it can be safely said they did live happily ever after, for they sought each other's pleasure with humility and daring in all things, and in seeking they found it.