2 comments/ 9861 views/ 0 favorites Bag Lady By: Bag Lady "It's Mercy," she said and then she was gone. After the bag lady left, the two of them sat next to each other in silence, he on the bench, she in her hot pink enameled wheelchair. Eventually, he slipped a hand over the arm of the chair and took her hand in his. He had a strong hand and she enjoyed the feel of it, the way his thumb caressed the back of hers. "I was married once," she said at last, breaking the silence. "Me too." "I was crazy about him. Can you believe it. I actually would finish his sentences sometimes as if I knew what he was thinking. He told me we were soulmates." "I don't believe in soulmates," Don said. "Haven't you ever met someone that seemed perfect for you?" "Sure," he said. "At first she seemed perfect in every way, the little differences so small and meaningless. Then later I found it wasn't quite so wonderful. That's when things started to unravel." "Maybe you're right," she said. "Maybe true love can't exist. It's rather sad, don't you think?" "Oh, true love does exist," he said. "It's just not about being soulmates. That kind of thinking just leads to high expectations and disappointments." "And what oh, great doctor is true love?" "It's about perseverance, about a connection so strong, you can work through all the little issues that destroy soulmates." "I had two children with the guy. I thought I loved him. I thought he was my soulmate. We did a lot of mating in those early days." Her voice trailed off as old memories rose in her minds eye. "What happened?" "He found another soulmate, started cheating on me. When I found out it nearly destroyed me." The old pain in her voice had a sharp edge to it, sarcasm perhaps or maybe just self loathing. "I got drunk one night in a fit of self pity and stupid me had a car accident. Now you see the results." She didn't tell him the accident had cost the custody of her children too. He ran a hand lightly down the golden hair braided down her back, his touch comforting, soothing. Although he heard the old pain in her voice he asked, "Can you walk now?" "I can go to the bathroom by myself if I use crutches." Her admission was thrilling to him for he had suspected as much, "Thank god there aren't anymore more nasty tubes." He smiled, helping her keep her hard won dignity, and reached for her hands. "Let's try it -- right now." He was smiling though he said the words with a firm no nonsense manner, blue eyes staring deep into hers. His hand had tightened, almost painfully, but his firmness was also exciting. "I'll help you." He stood in front of her, pulling on both her hands. Slowly she rose from the wheelchair. At last she stood straight, fully erect like a man in love with his maiden. Cassandra swayed back and forth for a moment. She lifted her right leg. The tension showed on her face, little beads of sweat sliding down her cheek. She swung her leg forward, the foot falling upon the grass carpet. Don held her hands, tight with his, balancing her. She lifted the other leg, the weakness in her right leg made it buckle. She started to fall sideways but Don pulled her to him so their chests pressed together supporting her against his body. Her legs buckled. They fell onto the grass, she on top of him. "You make a softer landing than my floor," she said, a rose color flooding her face. A smile spread over her face like the sun breaking through a dark cloud. "Not all of me," he said with a chuckle, the truth of his words jutting into her belly. They held each other for a moment, his hands along her back, sliding downward. She pulled away. " I...we should wait for another day," she whispered hesitantly. "What if I don't want to wait?" he whispered in her ear, his hand on her buttocks, pulling her tightly against him. "What if I want to make love to you right now?" " What will Mercy think?" she asked, wondering how he could want her as she was. "She'll be happy for you," he said. "And maybe she'll want some too -- from that man of hers." Her laughter was soft and light as Don helped her back into the wheelchair and they moved along the sidewalk enjoying the scents and sounds of the late morning. Eventually, they found themselves gazing up the steps at Cassandra's house. Don scratched his head. "How in the hell are we going to get you up there." "You could carry me." "That I can. Just a minute though." He raced up the steps, and using her keys to open the door he slid the painting into the tiny foyer kicking the doorstop down to hold the door open. He returned to her, slipping both arms under her and lifted her out of the wheelchair as though she was a doll, light as a feather. Soon he had placed her on the same bench where just a couple of hours before, Mercy had been crying in desolation. While Cassandra watched, Don wrestled with the wheelchair. Even a doctor as illustrious as Cassandra imagined him to be, didn't suddenly become an expert at wheelchair mechanics. Eventually, he was able to get it into the house and soon came back for her. She smelled the sweat mixed with his delicious woodsy cologne as his arms again wrapped around her. Her cheek was against his shoulder, an arm around his neck. Lifting her head, she kissed his neck. It was a soft kiss, yet warmly wet. He turned toward her and slid his mouth softly over hers. How satisfying a simple kiss can be she thought, especially after being deprived for so long. Later, they sat together, staring out the large picture window. He slid a hand under her dress, along her leg, just inside the thigh. "I'm scared," she said. "My body is healing itself but I'm scared." "It's ok," he said. "It's not about doing everything perfectly. It's about us -- together." He carried her to the bedroom, setting her momentarily on her feet as he pulled back the covers. He lay her on the sheets, light as a feather. Removing his shirt, he slid in next to her. She could smell his breath, his mouth inches from her, his nose lightly grazing hers. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her closer into the length of his body. She felt his chest warm against her breasts, his arm making slow crazy eights on her back. Then he pressed closer to her, his mouth covering her soft lips. His tongue entered her mouth, twisting around hers. She kept thinking that he tasted like ginger. She loved ginger. His hardness was against her thigh, still clothed but throbbing slightly as though it wanted to escape its prison. He kneaded her buttocks, pulling her hips into him, pushing his hardness into the softness of her belly. He began to caress her legs. She felt him pull her dress up, sliding it further and further upwards until was bunched against her stomach. She trembled as the material slid over her skin. She watched him intently as he undid the few buttons that covered her breasts. When his had slid inside, hot against her skin, her eyes slid closed on a sigh. As he cupped a breast, she felt the tingle grow warmer between her legs. Not satisfied, he slipped an arm around her, behind her back and unsnapped her bra. Returning to the front, he slid a hand under the bra, teasing the undercurve of her fullness in slow tiny circles. Using his knuckles he prized the lacy fabric from her skin, his palm skimming over her hardening nipple. The tingle from her breasts was sending jolts of pleasure through her, her mons blossoming with slickness. He rubbed her nipples, lightly pinching them and she groaned. As she arched into his hand, he lowered his mouth to take a pink tip between his teeth. His tongue laved her delicately as she gasped. It was like drowning. She felt as though she would disappear under the strength of his passion and never come up for air. It was happening too fast. She wanted him to slow down, but she knew she needed this. But, how could she let go and relax? She felt so inadequate, broken still, as though she was some deformed creature. Even as she thought these dark thoughts, her body was responding, heating in places that hadn't felt the fire in years. There was something about him that calmed her. He seemed unfazed by the fear shooting through her, as if he was all she needed to make it fly away, disappear into the ceilings high above them.. Then he lifted his head to smile into her eyes. The deep blue of them grew deeper as he gave her a light kiss on her nose and that was all it took. Her heart stopped beating like a heart attack. Then as it resumed at a frantic speed she started to float and dream and love. Somehow her dress was gone. The only clothing she wore were her thong panties. Somewhere, some how he had removed his own clothing she realized surfacing momentarily from her passion induced fog. The heat of his skin pressed into her slightly cooler flesh. She could feel his hardness against her leg amazing her somewhere deep that he wanted her like this. His hands caressed her breasts, his lips hot on her own. Their tongues entwined like twin roses, petals wet with the morning dew. The tingle had become a steady throb. His tongue slowly wormed its way down her torso, into her belly button, along her thighs. With a sigh, she let him slide her panties over her legs and push them apart. He played with her ankles, and smiled when she gasped and sighed with pleasure. He traced his way slowly up her long slender legs, watching her face change as she realized she could feel his every touch. It ran like fire along her nerves, making her belly quake with needs she had thought forsaken. He toyed with the tender flesh at the apex of her silken thighs, dipping lightly, testing her readiness. Shifting the lean length of his body he pushed between her legs, his shoulders pushing her further open. "You are so wet Cassandra. Do you know that?" He whispered huskily as he drew a finger through her folds like one of her sable brushes. Her body shook with the feeling, as she watched him through pleasure-hooded eyes. When he offered her his wet finger to taste she positively trembled, shocked at herself despite her eagerness to taste her own arousal He groaned a little as she laved her wetness from his finger. She savored him with her tongue, and sighed when he withdrew it to part her folds with eagerness. Slowly he lowered his head, his tongue slipping between the pink petals of her sex, to lick up her wetness. The throbbing sensation was now a burning fire, her lower muscles twitching uncontrollably as her thighs splayed wider allowing him to delve deeper if he chose. Languidly he licked her, sucking the folds of her into his mouth. When his tongue brushed her clit she flinched then sighed with pleasure. Slowly he played with that sensitive button feeling how her hips lifted unconsciously against his mouth. He cupped her ass in his hands, thumbs kneading the tender inner flesh of her thighs. Her hand slid down, resting tentatively on his head, fingertips subtly pressing him left or right...up or down. The sheer joy of his mouth on her sex had her flying high, swirls of color streaking behind her closed eyes. "It's been so long," she said softly. "Don't stop. Please don't stop." Stop he didn't. Using teeth and tongue he played with her clit, until her hips began rocking against his palms. Slowly he turned around maintaining contact with her pussy, the soft flicking of his tongue steady. The changing of his position made the heat beginning to coil in her belly grow stronger. His chin pressed against her pubic bone, his tongue dancing rapidly over her clit. He slid one hand to her breast, tweaking the hard nipple gently and was rewarded as her entire body arched up off her soft bed. She was sighing and gasping lightly now. Her breath a soft susurration that was growing a little ragged around the edges. He raised himself up and over her, his knees on either side of her flushed face. She felt something hot and soft on her lips and opened her eyes. His prick hung proud and hard above her eyes, the sack of his balls pendulous and swollen. Just seeming him so aroused as he continued to eat at her soaking cleft made her writhe. Eagerly she slipped her lips over his hard penis taking him inside the cavern of her mouth like a starving woman. It had been so long since she had tasted a penis. The tip was soft like velvet, the mild tang of salt and musk bursting over her tongue, filling her nostrils with his masculine scent. She engulfed him allowing his length to fill her mouth to bump gently against her throat. She sucked and licked at him, her tongue curling around his shaft while he slowly pulled his body away from her. Then slowly he pushed back in, his hardness sliding a little further into her throat. Even while he fed his cock to her hungry mouth he continued to tease and play her clit with his tongue. Her wetness glistened on the swollen lips of her pussy, and he knew she was almost ready to cum. He trailed his fingers over her thighs, feeling her muscles tremble beneath his touch. She was sucking him harder, deeper into her hot little mouth. He seized her clit between his teeth and ravaged it with his tongue, feeling her come undone. Inside," she cried. "I want you inside." she cried again as her body coiled hard then sprang free in an orgasm that made her burn like holy fire. Crawling around her outstretched limbs, he came up between her knees. His rigid cock pulsed and danced as he knelt there, a soft smile across his face. Her answering smile, brought him down to her, where he captured her lips with his own. Tongues tangling, his cock found her slick entrance. She broke the kiss with a gasp as he slowly slid into her, shivers coursing under her skin. Returning her lips to his, his tongue delved into her mouth in a slow invasion that had her bursting -- just this side of spontaneous combustion. The sensation of his body joining with hers had her back arching, driving her breasts into his broad chest. The light matting of his chest hair scraped deliciously over her sensitized nipples making her buck her hips into his. Her muscles gripped him tightly as releasing her mouth he began to move. He raised his hips, then lowered them again, going deeper each time he did, until he was buried to his balls inside her. She was tight. Incredibly tight, and though she was wet, it took him a while to open her body to receive him in his entirety. When he was seated fully, his hips nestled hard against hers, her guttural cry of pleasure seemed to come not from her lips but some place deep in her chest. The fire within her grew fiercer. An unfamiliar, vaguely remembered heat filled her, starting where his body had joined with hers, spreading in waves that became a tempest. A tumultuous storm that wracked her from head to foot. When he raised her legs to hook them over his hips, her cry was a thing of pure unadulterated pleasure. He kept his rhythm strong and deep until he felt her begin to clench him like a vise. He lost himself then, knowing instinctively that she was about to cum around him. "Ah," she cried at last. "I'm coming." Her muscles rippled in concussive waves that pulled him hard against her womb. Undone, he came with her, hot and hard, spurting his love deep into her welcoming body. They rocked together, their cries and groans commingling in the heavily scented air of her bedroom. Murmuring against her throat, he pulled out of her, taking his delicious weight from her sweat-sheathed body. Lying on his back, he pulled her loose limbs against his length, pillowing her head on his shoulder. He used his toes to pull the sheet to his grasp, draping its cool crispness over them both. Their thunderous heartbeats calmed as he idly traced the curve of her silky shoulder, her hair tangling over his fingers. She tried to speak, but words failed her. She kissed his chest, over his heart, then snuggled deeper into his embrace. She was whole again. Slowly, enwrapped like old lovers, they slipped into blissful dreamless sleep. ************************** There is a small sign just inside a large picture window of a house in Boulder Colorado. It says, "Mercy -- Your picture is ready now." On a permanent easel, facing the window is an oil painting. It is of a young woman, rags for clothes. She is pushing a King Soopers cart. Her face is pushed upward toward a chain of mountains in the distance where sun streaks down to illuminate her delicate face. Her expression is rapturous, as if she were joyfully singing.