3 comments/ 12540 views/ 0 favorites Lost Time Ch. 02 By: frustratedpoodle I know why I am single. It has nothing to do with my looks or how I am around others. Overall, I am an attractive woman, moderately successful, and comfortable with who I am and why. Social situations came easily to me in that I never feared talking to others or making friends of them. My problem lies with the fact that I am a homebody at heart. I take more pleasure from staying at home with a good book than I do from a night out with the girls, unless of course, the mood to go out hits me. A big night for me is a few good movies, a bottle of wine, and a tub of popcorn. It never bothered me until I came home from California, a day after my encounter with Chris in my parents' PT Cruiser. Right there in the middle of a parking garage, we had ravaged one another like frustrated rabbits. Never mind that we had no romantic history and had not seen one another for ten years. Never mind that within fifteen hours, I was on a plane back to Louisiana. Chris had awakened a need in me that I had not felt in a few years, since my last boyfriend and I parted on less than wonderful terms. In the past two years, my outings with friends were punctuated by the fact that I was either a no-show, or the first to leave. I did not date, and in fact, in those two years, excluding Chris, I had engaged in sexual activity with another person only once. That experience is one that I still don't know whether to call tragic or comical. Now, I felt like a caged animal. I had not yet unpacked, and I needed to get out of the house and be around people. I needed to do something with myself that did not involve much thought, for my thoughts were filled with none other than Chris. For the most part, the conversation we had before the incident in the Cruiser stuck in my mind. We were so alike, compatible even. It seemed that in those few hours of conversation, we had caught up on the past decade without pause, never a second of awkwardness between us. I kept checking my email, though he had not written. I kept hoping for the phone to ring, though when it did, it was either my best friend or my mother. Then, during the quieter moments, I thought of his tongue teasing my clit, his fingers pushing up into me, enveloped in wetness. I thought of the way he felt inside of me as I rode him, and the way he tasted as he shot his load down my throat. In two days I masturbated to those images every time they invaded my thoughts. To count how many times the recollection made me come is impossible. To say that it was satisfying to masturbate to a memory would be a lie. I wanted him. Of that, there was no question. I supposed that it was lust, a feeling that had eluded me for so long, but a part of me swore that there was more to it. Chris had become all that I looked for in a man, and never did I imagine that I would find it in him. I regretted not making passes at him while we were in high school. I regretted not being able to get together with him earlier on during my visit West. Did I bother to email or call him? Heavens, no! I have never chased a boy in my life. The temptation was there, but I resisted it, for I knew that it would only serve to make me edgier in waiting on a response to an email. To call him would leave me tongue tied from the get-go. If he did not email or call me within a week, I would know to leave that night, and most likely, Chris, far behind in my bank of fond memories. When he actually did call, four nights later, I was too caught off guard to be nervous, even when he brought up the night in the Cruiser after the initial greetings. "I just want you to know that I really enjoyed everything about that night," he began, and he cleared his throat. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since." "I guess that makes two of us," I replied with a little sigh. I was sitting on the couch, sure that if I had been standing, my knees would have faltered so watery they felt. "If you had been able to stay, we could have done a lot more." Did I really say that? There was a smile in his voice. "Maybe it's wrong for me to admit it, but when I think about it, I have to... you know..." I smirked to myself, barely aware as my hand slipped between my legs. "No. What?" He was going to say it. I had to hear him say it. "Masturbate." He sounded embarrassed, and there was a sigh, as though he were kicking himself for saying anything at all. "I'm glad, because I would hate to be the only one," I told him, made bold by his confession, and squeezing my legs around my hand. I was wearing a pair of boxer shorts, and the flannel felt all too warm against my aroused pussy. "No way. You have?" He seemed relieved if a little unbelieving. "If you keep this conversation up I'll do it right here and now," I told him, giggling so that he would wonder whether or not to take my words to heart. I could hear it in the background, though, the gentle slapping of skin a man emits when he is stroking himself. It was steady and slow, and I just imagined his cock getting hard in my own hand as I tugged my shorts down. "Why don't you? I would do anything to see you spread wide and touching yourself because of me." His voice cracked a little, not unlike when he was a kid. "You like the idea of getting me all hot and bothered? What would you do if I told you that I was touching my pussy right now, and it's wet just thinking about the way you touch me." "I would tell you to imagine that your fingers are my tongue, playing with your sweet little clit. I would tell you to moan for me as you told me what you wanted me to do to you." The slapping sound was a little louder now, and my fingers rubbed more frantically at my clit, sticky with my own juices. The moan was inevitable. "Only if you're stroking your cock for me. I want that cock. I want it fucking me right now." My fingers slid in, pumping in and out of my pussy with a wet noise that I made sure he heard. His breaths were shallow now, and he seemed shaky. "Oh, I'm stroking it. I want to fuck you from behind. I want your pussy wrapped around my cock and my fingers fucking your ass. Wiggle that sweet little ass for me." I was squirming all over the couch, fingers back on my clit, rubbing furiously. "My heart was pounding. "You want that ass, don't you? You want more than your fingers in there. You want to shove that cock in there and make me scream." "You have no idea how bad I want to hear you scream for me. You going to come for me? I want to hear you come while I get off." His voice dropped to a gruff whisper. "C'mon, rub that clit for me. Next time I see you, I'm going to fuck you and watch you rub your clit." That was it. I whimpered into the phone, breathless as I felt the orgasm hit me. In the midst of all this, Chris cried out, the slapping sound faster, harder, more intense. I tightened my legs together, fingers still stroking, and the words just came out. "I need to see you soon, Chris!" For a few moments, only our ragged breaths could be heard on the line. It was a slow recovery from a satisfying experience. "I need to see you too," he finally said, voice serious and quiet. Need. What a strong word. Did he know the strength of that word? Did he know that my need for him was double what it was after our night in the Cruiser? Somehow, we managed another hour of small talk, promising to talk again tomorrow. I could hardly wait. I licked my fingers as I hung up the phone and sighed, turning the stereo on and blinking as the same Led Zeppelin song started on the radio. Lost Time Ch. 03 "Ten Years Gone" was playing over and over again in my mind. The song was not an exact fit to my life, but it's mysterious knack for being on the radio following any encounter with Chris gave it a special new meaning for me. I dug out my old "Physical Grafitti" album and started to play it whenever I thought of Chris, which was often. Since our impromptu phone sex session, conversations between Chris and me had tamed down considerably. We looked forward to one another's calls and emails, making sure to be home for them. We talked for hours about everything under the sun. Everything other than where this was going. It was plain that this thing had gone beyond simple lust and a single encounter in a car. It was no secret that there was a connection there that could not be easily ignored. There was more, however, that could not be ignored, and it was not as pretty. Chris had a life in California. He was bartending at one of the trendiest Long Beach nightspots and taking classes at Cal State Fullerton during the day. His entire family lived in California, as did all his friends. I had only parents in California. In fact, we had moved there when I was starting high school, and I moved back home to Louisiana after graduation when LSU accepted me. I had a cush teaching job here, and I felt at peace among the moss hung trees and bayous, more than I ever had in the hustle and bustle of California. While it had not come up, I sensed that it would one day, and I questioned the willingness on either of our parts to move closer to one another. My affection for Chris was growing, and I was sure that this feeling was mutual, but the spectre of that make or break decision had begun to plague me. We spoke until late in the night on one particular Saturday, and the closest we had come to addressing distance and attachment was his plan to visit me in about a month's time. Something in his voice as he told me he could not wait to see me again seemed almost pained. Though I could not be sure where that tone came from, and I did not ask, for some things are best discussed in person, by the time we hung up, I felt restless and worried. I wanted to just go to bed to keep from thinking, but sleep proved elusive, so I found myself at the drug store in my flannel pajamas, buying a box of Sominex. Though I generally avoid such things, it seemed the only way to get any rest on this night. Luckily the pills worked, but the dream that followed during that deep sleep did little for my worried desires once I woke up. In the dream, I was in bed, on my stomach and naked. The Led Zeppelin song was playing somewhere from the other room, just loud enough to be audible. Only the full moon streaming through the window served to illuminate, and I dreamt that I was simply thinking of Chris. It was then that I felt the fingers slide along my wet folds, and up between my cheeks, teasing around my little opening. Wet, circling, and gently pressing against it, a single finger wormed its way into my ass, beginning a slow fuck that had my hips rolling up against each thrust. "Chris... you're here," I murmured through a smile and a sucking in of my breath. "Of course I am," he breathed, his voice sweet and his tone carrying a smile I could not see. He pushed another finger into my asshole, and I moaned, the moan interrupted by a gasp as he began, with the other hand, to gently rub along the length of my pussy, stopping at my engorged clit. He rubbed it in time with the slowly quickening strokes that moved in and out of my ass. "I want you so badly, it hurts..." his voice trailed off as he continued his quiet pleasuring. I shivered, my hips moving in perfect rhythm with his fingers. "But do you need me?" I asked through a whimper. "Do you need me, Chris?" His fingers left me abruptly, and I nearly cried from the cut off of physical pleasure, and the silence that met my question. Then, his hands were on either cheek, spreading them apart, and I felt the head of his cock press in between. "Yeah," came the whisper. "I need you more than you can know." He pressed forward, his thick head painful as it slipped past the tight opening. I cried out, but pushed back, letting him fill my ass completely. He squeezed my ass cheeks around his cock, a low growl in his throat as he took me slowly. I was up on my knees and elbows at this point, his cock deep in my ass, pressing against the tight walls and thrusting more forcefully with each push in. He slid almost all the way out each time, whispering how good my ass felt around him, how he wanted to fill it with his come. One hand moved from my ass, sliding around my front to find my clit. He rolled his fingers around and on it, the delicious sensations driving all coherent thought from my mind. I wanted it harder. I wanted it faster. As he pulled out almost completely, I slammed my hips back, making us both cry out. He moved faster, cock slamming to the hilt with no restraint now, the initial pain replaced by animalistic want. His fingers moved almost violently on my clit, my pussy so wet that my thighs felt damp. He drove his cock into my ass harder, faster, the sensation somewhere between perfect and painful. I felt the orgasm build and explode within moments, and as it came, I screamed, melting into it, the slap of his balls against my pussy seeming only to extend the pleasaure beyond what I had always thought normal. I must have said a million things at that moment- I told him that I loved him, I loved his cock, his fingers, and that he made me feel so dirty. Yet, all I remember as the orgasm subsided and I quivered helplessly, was, "Let me feel that come in my ass. Come for me, Chris, come for me..." and I trailed off into a repetition of those words, falling into a harsh and breathless whispering. "Tell me it's mine," he said through his gasps, slapping my ass with his free hand. "Yours. All yours - my ass, my pussy, everything!" I cried out, hips thrusting back roughly. "Always mine." "For as long as you want it," I trembled. His hands were on my hips now, gripping them tightly and ramming me back against him. He tensed sharply in my ass, and as he began to say something, the words were lost in a shaky, helpless moan, and I felt the hot spurt of come deep inside as his cock throbbed with the release. "I love you..." he whispered. I sat up in bed with a start, for a moment tingling more from his final words to me than from the vivid dream. Upon the realization that it had only been a dream, despite the wetness drying between my legs, I could not help but weep. Something had to give. I needed to make Chris mine for good or let him go for good, and through the tears, I concluded that it would be best to wait until he visited before I came to that decision. Lost Time Ch. 04 "Did you miss me?" Asked Chris, smiling over from the passenger seat. I could hardly believe that he was here. Our kiss in the airport had beaten all other airport kisses in history, I swear. Since we had climbed into the car, there had been at least two instances where I was sure that I might have to pull over, we wanted one another so bad. "With every bullet so far," I joked, winking in his direction. Then, the sigh came without warning, and all those things that had been on my mind since my visit to California resurfaced, and I looked over at him, meeting his eyes for as long as I could as I drove. "I've missed you more than I ever thought I might miss anyone. I've hated myself for it, relished it, and stopped myself from telling you so for a while now." There was a silence in the car that made me feel suddenly cold, and his face when I glanced to it, was difficult to read. "I think that's supposed to make me feel better, because I've nearly said the same to you a million times," he replied, voice low. "I don't suppose leaving a teaching career for me and California is an option." "Or you moving down here..." my voice trailed off, my response as quiet as his own words. "Is the possibility open to discussion?" He asked me, his dark eyes on me. It was electrifying to be near him. I wanted to pull over and just kiss him. "Anything is open to discussion, Chris." We had discussed everything but the state of our "relationship" over the phone while we had been apart. We knew one another's likes, dislikes, kinks, fantasties, and histories. There was little we had not shared, including dirty talk and masturbation on the phone. I knew at this point that I wanted a chance with him. A chance to be a normal girlfriend, and not some long distance "something" that really amounted to nothing. Where it went from there was a mystery to me, for I while I felt a whole lot for Chris, I was not ready to marry and have his children either. That had the potential to come later. "I don't want to scare you. I don't want for either of us to make a move we might regret." He reached over and patted my thigh. "But we have two weeks to get into all that. I'm tired, and I am just glad that we're here together now." My smile was a little weak, but I understood. There was time for that discussion later. Right now, nothing was going to burst my bubble. Chris was here! In Louisiana! He looked even better than he had the night we met up at the bar. A plain white tee shirt showed off heavily tattooed, moderately muscular arms, and the jeans he wore were a delight to look at from behind. I had received an eyeful at the baggage claim area. He had his cap on, which was a staple, but in the light of day, the boyishly handsome, sweet face would not be obscured. "Me too," I told him. "We'll worry about all that later. Right now, it's all I can do to keep from pulling off into the woods so that I can have my way with you." "Why don't you?" He teased. "Because, I want you in my bed," I replied with a shrug. "I can do without the mosquito bites on my ass, too." He laughed. "That works. And what would you like to do to me, you little Southern vixen?" "Whatever you want," I shot back. "As long as I can do it more than once." "Deal." My house was out of the way, surrounded by live oaks and cedars, and though small, the long driveway gave the impression that one was driving toward a plantation home. The house itself was a miniature model of such a place, complete with the veranda and the columns, ivy crawling the white pillars, and taking over everything, as greenery is wont to do in the South. "Nice house," he commented as we unloaded his bags and walked to the brick red front door. "Thanks. It was my grandmother's, and she left it to me when she died," I explained. "I moved in during my second year of college." "Pretty out of the way, too," he noted as we walked in. "I like it that way." We were hardly in the front door when he dropped his duffle and slid his arms around me. "Out of the way enough that no one would notice us having sex on the porch?" I giggled, kissing him deeply. "No one would be impolite enough to mention if they did see it. They would only tell all the other townfolk." "Can you live with that?" He asked, pushing me back through the open front door, his hands firm on my hips. "I think it would be well worth the gossip." In order to emphasize my point, I slid a hand down between his legs, his cock already hardening under the tight jeans. He sucked in his breath, kissing me lightly on the forehead, fingers pulling up at the flimsy dress I wore. I had chosen the spaghetti strap number carefully, for it would not be worn with a bra, as it's thin flower print material was too tight, molding to my skin until it reached the tops of my kneecaps. His lips made their way down my face, finally meeting my own. In the heat of the kiss, I did not realize that the dress was already pushed up to my hips, leaving me bare assed to face the driveway. He manuevered us, without breaking the kiss, to the railing next to the steps. I could feel the wood, scratchy against my bare bottom, and it felt almost as good as he did. My hand played over his hard cock, fingers fumbling for the buttons on his pants. His eyes were lit with desire as I pulled back from the kiss. "I've waited so long for this," I whispered, kissing down his throat, my hunger building rapidly. He helped me pull the jeans down around his ankles, and whether he stepped out of them or not, I have no idea. I didn't care, for I could only respond to the damp between my legs. His fingers pushed into me, and I moaned, shivering as his lips found my ear. His whisper was heated. "You want me that bad?" "Worse than that." I had his cock in my hand now, stroking it lovingly, my grip firm, my movements slow. "Good, because I just want to make you mine." He slammed his fingers in as he spoke, my pussy clenching wetly around them. Then, they left me, and I nearly melted as he brought them to his lips, licking my juice from them. "Turn around." The demand in his tone served only to excite me further. I did as he said, gripping the white railing and bending over to give him a full view of my ass and neatly trimmed pussy. I half expected to feel his fingers, but the urgency was too great for foreplay. There would be time for that later. Right now, we just had to have one another. He slammed his cock into me so hard that I thought I would go flying off the porch. I cried out, as did he, and his hand came down hard on my ass, the sharp sting almost as sweet as the sensation of his thick cock sliding in and out of me. "You like that, don't you?" "Do it again," I gasped, never realizing just how much I did like it. Another slap as he drove himself deep into my wet depths, and I thrust my hips back against him. "More!" I begged. The next smack, on the other cheek, was harder than the one before, and I felt my fingernails clawing the wood I held onto for dear life. He was so thick and hard inside of me that with each thrust, I thought I would come right then and there. His hips moved faster, and the hand that wasn't poised to smack me again was suddenly in my hair, and he was yanking it back. "Tell me you're mine," he whispered, droplets of sweat hitting the small of my back as he pumped himself into me. One dripped down the crack of my ass, and I shuddered, for it was cold on my skin. "I'm yours. All of me..." I whimpered, another smack coming down hard. "Your ass is so red..." he could barely speak now, and I knew that even as my orgasm approached, his was right there as well. "I'm going to come all over it, and later, I'm going to fuck it. Do you know how hot that makes me? To imagine fucking that tight little ass? You want me to fuck it, don't you?" His words, so intense, so real, were enough. I came explosively. I told him that my ass was his to fuck and that I had saved it just for him. I told him that I was his, and he slapped my ass through every moment of the orgasm that was not quite over when I felt his cock slide out of me. He slapped it against my ass, sliding it between my cheeks as creamy liquid jetted out of it, hot on my reddened skin. Then, his arms were around me, his wet dick trapped between my cheeks as his fingers drifted down to my clit. He pulled me into a straight, standing position, whispering in my ear. "Now, you are really mine." A soft kiss to my neck followed. "You're all I want, and whatever that means, we're going to figure it out if it's what you want to." I was quivering in his arms, though I could not be sure if it was due to the sex or his words. Perhaps it was both. "Was there ever a doubt that I am yours, like it or not?" I sighed. "We'll work it out, Chris. If you want to as badly as I do, then we'll figure it out. Right now, though, we need to get inside." "Neighbors?" He looked to either side, perhaps for the first time noticing that we were surrounded on three sides by trees. Not that there weren't neighbors on the other side, but we were in relative privacy. "No. I have a splinter in my thigh." Somehow, that struck us both pretty funny. Lost Time Ch. 05 While Chris was visiting me, the sex was practically non-stop. We did it on the front porch numerous times, the kitchen counter, the back patio, in the laundry room, and at least once in every room of the house, not counting the bedroom, where to count how often would be impossible. We could not get enough of each other. We were consumed with passion, and even when we were sore and tired from all the sex, we would do it again. In between those times, Chris and I talked about everything except where this relationship would go. Aside from words whispered during sex the first time, when he arrived, there was no more discussion of the matter, though I could tell that like me, Chris was thinking about it. In the most subtle manner I could, I tried to sell him on Louisiana. I took him into New Orleans, showed him all the sights, the bars, and briefed him on the history of this great state. I had him drinking mint juleps, eating real Cajun food, and learning how to understand the accents. Despite all the fun we had, however, the questions loomed over us like a dark shadow. At night, when we would finally go to sleep, we would hold each other with an intensity almost comparable to sex, each of us wanting to say something, but giving in to the silence. It became a source of deep frustration for me, and I knew that at some point before he left, we would sit down and have a serious talk. I had no idea that it would come about the way that it had. It was early morning, and I had just called in for a substitute to cover my classes for the next three days, for Chris had four days left in Lousiana. We were still in bed, cuddling quietly, and my fingers were tracing over the skin of his thigh, teasing him into a hard-on. I had risen that day with a need to have him in my mouth, feeling his cock throb as he came down my throat. My fingers brushed over his heavy balls, producing a shudder from us both, and he leaned his head over to kiss me - one of those deep, wet kisses that could melt a glacier. I took hold of his cock, feeling it stiffen in my hand, squirming a little as the arousal built up within me. "I'm going to suck your dick," I told him in a soft whisper, licking and nibbling away from his lips, down his throat. He moaned low, stretching to allow me to kiss my way down his tattooed body. I was stroking his cock to full erection, the feel of it in my hands a pleasure in and of itself that made me a little crazy. The phone began to ring as I let my tongue linger over one of his nipples. "Ignore it," I whispered, letting my breath wisp over the rigid nipple. Chris quivered. I stroke more intensely, my grip tightening around the thick, rigid cock as the answering machine clicked on. The male voice was familiar, and though I tried to ignore it, it was sickening to me. "Darlin', I need to talk to you. Meet with me this Saturday? It's important. I miss you." I felt the grip of strong hands on my shoulders as Chris pulled me up, and I lost my grip on him as his eyes bored into mine. "That's the ex boyfriend?" I nodded, hating the ex boyfriend for ruining the mood. "Jeff's been trying to get me back since we broke up. That's his monthly call." "Do you ever hook up with him anymore?" There was fear in Chris' expression. "We have lunch once in a while, but it doesn't go beyond that." I gave him a puzzled look. "You aren't worried, are you?" He held me tightly to him for a long moment, kissing my neck lightly before he replied. "Of course, I am worried. I trust you, but considering how long it's been since you broke up, the idea of his still trying to get you back bothers me." I raised my head, meeting his eyes. "He won't get me back, Chris, whether you are in the picture or not." I paused, sighing as I blurted. "What's going to happen once you are gone, Chris? What are we going to do about us?" "Come to California," he replied, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of my face. "Come out and I swear you won't regret it. I just want to be with you. You make me happy. I want you to be happy with me." My eyes filled with tears. "I have a career here. Five years in the school system. Why don't you transfer your credits to LSU. There's plenty of places you can work..." I stopped, my bottom lip starting to tremble. "My family. My mom has cancer..." he trailed off. "You can teach in California, can't you?" "I'll think about it," I told him, meaning each word. "I don't want to be without you." He nodded, his own eyes wet. "Do something for me, though, until that decision is made?" "Anything." "Let me have the peace of mind of knowing that you won't see your ex anymore-for any reason." He looked almost ashamed to ask it of me. "I'm not the jealous type normally, but I can't stand this, not when I'll be so far away." Part of me was ready to agree. I had no desire to see him. Another part of me raged. "You don't trust me." It wasn't a question. Two fingers pressed lightly to my lips, and he choked on his words, a tear escaping. "I love you. I've never felt this way for anyone, and it scares me because I don't think I can handle losing you. I look at you and my heart leaps. I touch you and it drives me crazy. Talking to you is easy, and you are so smart, so pretty, so perfect, that anything standing between us in any way is a perceived threat to the one thing I want and need most in the world right now. I know it's insecure. I know that it seems I don't trust you, but I wouldn't love you if I didn't trust you. Believe that if nothing else." "You really love me?" I had to smile, and though all he said to me was touching, that he admitted his love for me was something I felt I could live on for the rest of my days. "Yes, I do. Don't think that I am not considering a move down here, either. It's just something we have to play by ear, I think. But not for too long." He kissed my lips gently. "I do love you, Chris," I told him. "And if it truly makes you feel at ease, I won't see him this weekend, though I would have said differently in any other situation." "I want you all for me. He gets off on seeing you. He gets off on you. Anyone that persistent is capable of more, and I don't want anything to happen to you." Chris hit a nerve. He was right. The ex had always been a little erratic in the stability department, but I did not confirm that fear. "I'm yours, no matter what," I said, silencing any response with a deep kiss, my hand slipping between his legs once more. He was hard again, and I wanted him in my mouth now. I pulled away from the kiss, sliding myself on top of him in a classic 69 position. His tongue was between my legs immediately, and I took him into my mouth as deeply as I could, suckling his cock as though it were the last Pepsi in the desert. His hands slid up the backs of my thighs, pulling my ass cheeks apart even as his tongue stabbed into my pussy. I felt the shudder start deep from within. His tongue flickered in and out of my pussy with lightning speed, delving as deep as it could and then sliding slick along my swollen lips. I took him hungrily, jacking him off as I sucked, moaning around his cock and spitting on it, making it as slick as I was. We were in heaven. His thumb slipped into my ass as I came, and I never broke my own stride as I rode his face, the tickle of his morning stubble sending the release to new and different heights. My moans seemed to vibrate around his cock, and he tensed beneath me only a second before his seed shot into my mouth. I swallowed every last bit of it. But we weren't done. Chris very suddenly flipped me over on my back, looming over me as his fingers stabbed into my still sensitive pussy. "That ass is mine and I'm going to have it right now," he growled. "I want you to remember this every time that guy calls you." His fingers slipped out, covered in my juices, and there was no tenderness involved when he swung my legs up onto his shoulders, leaning close enough to slip those same fingers deep into my ass. I cried out, the move unexpected, unable to help the squirming. Never had I taken a cock up my ass, though the fantasy was there, and I could think of no one better to fulfill it than my sweet Chris. I watched with wide eyes as his cock worked itself into a semi-hard state, his other hand slapping lightly at my pussy, rubbing teasingly over my clit. "Have you ever taken it up the ass?" He asked me, looking briefly as though he might fear the answer. "No," I breathed, the fear and anticipation in my expression cluing him in to the fact that I was being utterly truthful. He finger fucked my ass with two fingers, slow at first, but building up speed. "Good, because it's mine to fuck. It's mine to tease. I love your ass." I writhed, desire taking over any fears I had. He was rigid now, and when his fingers moved from my ass and his cock pressed forward, I knew that I could take it. "Go slow," I begged. He smiled down at me, pushing in slowly. The pain was almost too much. I started to beg him to stop, changing my mind four times before any words came out, but even those words were lost as the thick head of his cock slipped in. I screamed, squirming as he took me. I don't know that he would have stopped had I protested. It didn't matter. Once he was in, fucking me for all he was worth, I was loving it. "Play with your clit for me," he gasped, slamming his cock into me mercilessly. "Touch those lovely tits while I fuck your ass." I obeyed, the loss of control stimulating for me, sending electric shivers throughout my squirming little self. My fingers slid as they touched my pussy I was so wet, and as I began to rub fiercely at my engorged clit, my other hand cupping a breast, pinching at a nipple, I managed to gasp, "Like that?" "Just. Like. That." The pain mingled with intense pleasure, and I loved it. "Fuck me harder," I begged. "Hard as you can." He complied, his cock sliding almost completely out and pounding into my ass roughly. My pussy was as wet as I had ever felt it, and I fixed my eyes on his. "Come with me. I want to feel you come in my ass while I am coming." I was so close now, and his eyes widened at my words. We had come together before, and my demanding it of him was all he needed to synchronize with me. Hot sperm jetted into my ass as we both came. He never slowed his pace, and I never slowed mine. I was nearly hanging from his shoulders as I writhed through the most intense orgasm I had experienced to date. He was kissing the insides of my calves, licking and biting, whimpering as he finally slowed down, leaving himself lodged inside. "Mine," he whispered, breath hot on my leg. "Always." I breathed, smiling up at him. Lost Time Ch. 06 Small southern towns either keep secrets too well, or let loose with that which is no one's business without restraint. On a trip to the grocery store, Chris back at the house showering, three people stopped me to ask about my new beau. These were all people associated with the ex, Mike, so I made sure to tell them that I was very happy with the new boyfriend. In fact, happier than I had ever been. The last days that Chris was there, we spent mostly in bed, in some state of undress or another, either cuddling or making love. It was heaven. I wasn't ready to see him go. We were very quiet on the way to the airport, other than briefly telling one another that it sucked that today had arrived so quickly. Our good bye was quick on purpose, and I drove away, watching him in the rear view as he waited in line to check his bags until he was out of sight. Somehow, I managed to keep from crying. I would save those tears for later. I almost did not return to the house. I dreaded it, but knew that I could not just stay away for the day. It would be unhealthy for me to do so. I needed to get used to being alone again for the time being. Besides, there was nowhere I wanted to be at the moment, even at home, but home was the best place to be when nowhere else seemed good enough. As I pulled up to the house, I was surprised, unpleasantly, at the sight of the blue pick up truck that waited there. Mike, the ex, leaned against the tailgate, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark blue with fury. I stepped out of the car. "What are you doing here?" "Just wanted to hear it from you," he shot back. "Who's the new boyfriend?" "I did not know that I was supposed to answer to you," I replied, slamming my car door shut. Something in his eyes was unsettling. "I have tried for a long time to win you back. We are meant to be together, and this is what you do?" He took several steps toward me, and I stepped back. Mike, like most people, towered over me, and his sudden advance only increased my unease. "We aren't meant for anything together. I would appreciate it if you left right now, or I will call the police." I reached into my purse, as if to get the cell phone, though it lay, turned off, inside the house. With one leap, he had tackled me. I hit the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of me, and before I knew it, he had a hand on my throat, squeezing. I struggled, using a free hand to pull his head back by the hair, though it did little for me. Fear would have overwhelmed me if anger had not gotten there first, but the anger did little to help against someone so much bigger and stronger. And out here, no one would hear me scream. I felt lightheaded, his intent eyes a blur to me as my vision swam. My struggles were weakened by the lack of air, and I fought only to breathe after a few moments. Then, it all went black. When I came to, I was still on the ground. The first thing I saw was a yellow taxi, parked only a few feet away. Coughing and sputtering, I blinked and looked up, for there were voices coming from somewhere above, and I was shocked to see that Chris was there, punching Mike while the cab driver held him. I passed out again. Mike was unconscious by the time the cabbie called the police, muttering in his Cajun accent that Mike was not a man. Chris, his lip bloodied, was at my side when I came to again. "I decided that I'm moving here, and wanted to come back and tell you," he was saying, eyes filling with tears. "I'm so glad I did. Jesus. Are you okay, sweetie?" "Am now," I choked out. It was not until hours later, when the police reports were filled, and when the cabbie was invited out for drinks in a few days in thanks, that anything sank in. Chris and I were in the living room, cuddled quietly on the love seat, when I asked him, "What made you change your mind when you did?" "Watching you drive away," he said quietly. "I changed the flight so that I could go back next week, and figured I would discuss moving down here with you now. I can't make you give up a career. I can transfer schools. Aside from that, Mom told me I needed to be with you here. That meant a lot to me." "I love you." "I love you too." Though my neck was bruised and I still felt a little shell shocked, I leaned over and kissed him, my arms tightening around him. "I'm so glad you changed your mind." I let my lips trail down his throat. "You saved my life." "And mine," he whispered, his hand drifting down to the small of my back while the other played with my hair. The kisses were growing more and more heated, and he stopped once my hand rested on the growing bulge in his pants. "Are you up to this?" "Be gentle," I replied. I wore no underwear or pajamas under the bathrobe, and felt the terrycloth grow damp. He slid his hand under the robe, fingers sliding along my wet pussy. I shuddered, relishing in the feel of his fingers as he gently manipulated me, a finger sliding in, then out, and rubbing over my clit. I began to unbutton his pants, but he stopped me. "Let me please you." I could only nod, meeting his gaze and parting my legs further for him. He untied the robe with one hand, the other still playing with me, and then slid to the floor on his knees. My heart raced. As his tongue played warmly over my clit, he moved two fingers into me, wiggling them gently without pulling them out. I think I melted. His lips pulled at the engorged nub, suckling it, fingers always moving, even as they pumped slowly in and out of me. I think I told him it felt so good, but words were easily lost in a moan of pleasure, and the orgasm came more quickly than I imagined it might. My hips raised to press tight against his face as I quivered through the orgasm. He looked up at me with a little smile, lips and chin glistening with my juices. "Stay right there." "I won't run, trust me." He stood, sliding out of his pants, cock poking out, hard and thick. Kneeling with a leg either side of me, my face pressed to his warm chest, he slowly began to fuck me. The slow thrusts were thorough, pushing as far into me as he could go, then sliding out almost completely. More than the hard rabbit thrusts or the dirty talk, this feeling was too arousing. I pressed my hips up, but he was in total control, and kept the slow, steady pace, smiling down at me wickedly, his hands tight on my shoulders as he whispered, "Let me just feel you... appreciate you." I hitched my legs around his waist, whimpering as he let me feel and relish in every inch of him. I came harder than I ever had in my life. He never quickened the pace, and one orgasm followed the first, the second punctuated by the sudden throb of his cock inside of me. He gasped, tense, the gasp followed by a sharp moan. I could feel him coming inside of me, and it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Afterward, we lay wrapped around one another on the love seat, never speaking, simply enjoying. In the end, Chris moved in with me, and within a year, he had dropped out of school to open up his own bar. We were married a year after that. Is it any surprise that the first song played at the reception was "Ten Years Gone"?