5 comments/ 11451 views/ 0 favorites Mysterious Ways By: xxPAPERBACKWRITERxx ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS. Robin Rizzo stood beneath the porte-cochere at the entrance of the Long Island Convention Centre. She pulled her handbag close to her side, gripped her briefcase firmly, studied the sky, then lifted her wrist and checked the time. Five o'clock. The forecast called for no rain and she left her raincoat and umbrella at home in Valencia County. She looked at the sky again, thinking. Her Sebring sat on the street two blocks away. The lightning strikes weren't close. "Shouldn't be a big problem," she decided, and bolted into the open, running for her car. Almost immediately things went from bad to worse: the sky turned green beneath its cover of gray clouds, then the clouds lowered and became black. The courthouse flags flapped in the breeze. Cellophane wrappers pin-wheeled over the streets and sidewalks. Some of this trash snagged in hedges or blew beneath newspaper boxes. The wind whooshed through the tops of the oaks, too. And raindrops fell in fat gobs, like pigeon shit, out of the blue. Smokers loitering around the square, seeing the rain moving forward in a lateral, gray wall, like a regiment of rebel soldiers in a skirmish line, nigger-lipped or daintily puffed final drags from their smokes, then flipped them to the pavement. One smoker crushed and twisted her smoldering cigarette with her high-heel, then fled inside. Thunder rumbled close by, lightning flashed too far away to hear, and the rain fell heavy and thick. Runoff soon covered the streets to the tops of the curbs. Orange street lamps awoke in the darkness and glowed soberly. Blinking traffic lights rocked and swayed in the wind. The Jollyville City Bus stopped at the courthouse across from the convention center; a woman with soggy, matted hair stepped off, then struggled to open and control her umbrella in the wind. The wind lifted the woman's dress to the top of her legs and pressed the wet fabric tightly against her thighs and hips. Robin ran as fast as she dared, down the sidewalk, across the street to the opposite side, then down the sidewalk to the intersection. She had the 'cross' light and ran into the street where she stepped into a pothole, lost her balance, and fell face first onto the pavement and into the water. No one saw her distress or plight; her ankle was sprained and two of her nails broke from the collision with the pavement. Every other pedestrian had fled indoors. Drenched and dirty, Robin sat up, collected her bag and briefcase, and assessed her situation. The bag was filled with water. She emptied it and checked her cell phone. Dead. The heel from one shoe was lost. Nothing seemed broken, though, and she pushed herself up and limped toward her car with an unbalanced gait. Inside her car Robin pressed her brow against the steering wheel and cried, and when she finished crying she reached for a Kleenex or handkerchief to wipe her face, and both were sopping wet. She dried the wet ignition key with her slip, then cranked the Sebring's engine, switching the window defogger and wipers on before pulling into traffic. Home was a good three hours away with the rush, and the entrance ramp for the expressway was clogged with cars creeping along in the deluge. On the expressway, at last, Robin and the traffic moved slowly away from Jollyville. She checked the time. Six o'clock. Then the phone. Nothing. Dark arrived soon enough, and the storm poured atop Robin as she crept ever closer to Bay City. Her sprained foot tormented her, and she was physically and mentally drained from the fall and the stress from driving in bad weather. She looked at her watch and thought, "Another hour or so should do it." Rolling along in the rain, a large truck slowed up beside her, covering her windshield with splashed water and spray from the road. Her windshield wipers were useless in the assault of rain and road-water. She slowed the Sebring to let the truck get ahead of her and the truck slowed, too. She pressed the accelerator to get ahead of the truck and the truck matched her. She considered pulling over but couldn't see the shoulder through the rain. She backed off again, and the truck did the same. "Surely he can't be doing this on purpose!" She tried slowing again and a car behind her was quickly on her bumper and riding the horn. Robin sped up. The car rode her bumper. "What an idiot!" A mile further along the truck abruptly switched lanes forcing Robin onto the shoulder and down an exit ramp that suddenly materialized out of the night. She barely saw the stop sign ahead, and skidded the Sebring trying to stop on the wet, oily roadway. The honker followed her down the ramp, laid on the horn again, then drove around her, vanishing into the dark. "Where am I?" She looked around. Across the intersection the information signage was missing from its mast. "Damn kids! "Be calm, Robin!" She told herself. "Which way?" She wondered. "If I go right that should take me to 301." She turned the Sebring's wheels to the right, looked down the road, and gunned the motor. She passed a hitch-hiker. 'I don't think so!' She said to herself. Robin soon discovered that the road passed through the Valencia National Forest, an immense tract of wilderness preserved for habitat, recreation, and logging. The wilderness tract was lonesome and dark most of the time, especially at night during a storm. Five miles into the forest Robin came upon a hazard blinker and a DETOUR sign pointing her to a gravel road through the black woods. Two miles up the gravel road a deer leaped across her path; Robin veered to miss it and the Sebring sank to its axles in the soft, muddy shoulder. Robin gunned the engine and the rear wheels spun in their muddy cradles. She checked the Sebring's GPS navigation and confirmed she was in the middle of nowhere on a gravel road. She pressed her brow against the steering wheel and cried again, then cursed, then accepted the situation. "Someone will come along in the morning," she assured herself. She sat in the dark with her head resting against one hand, her elbow resting atop the door. Far away, up the road, she saw headlights and became excited. "Help!" She flashed the Sebring's headlights, waited, and watched the other vehicle turn off the road about a quarter mile from her. Within fifteen minutes she noticed a faint light through the woods in the area the other vehicle had gone. "A house?" She wondered. She contemplated her circumstances, for long minutes, and decided to test her luck walking to the source of the light. Robin forced the car door open, collected her bag, got out, locked the car, and limped off into the storm. Three times along the way, her sprained foot twisted in the mud and she feared she would faint from the pain. But the pain was brief, and within an hour she discovered a rustic cottage at the end of a driveway that connected to the gravel road. An old truck was parked in front of the house. Lights were on inside. "Prob'ly a toothless sociopath butchering a virgin," she feared. Robin limped to the door and knocked. Then knocked again. She was drenched and cold, and screamed when a large hand touched her shoulder. "Can I help you?" A male voice spoke. "Jesus Christ! You scared the crap out of me!" Robin barked. "I really need to get home or use your phone. My car is stuck back down the road, and I'd really, really appreciate it." "Come on inside," he said. "No, I don't think I want to. Thank you anyway. Do you have a phone I can use?" Robin was a small woman, less than five feet tall, and the man seemed huge to her. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a phone." "HE IS A KILLER!" She thought. "Could you maybe give me a lift to the highway in your truck? Look, I'll pay you for your trouble!" "Okay. Where do you live? Maybe I could drive you home?" "Is he nuts?" She thought. "Bay City. Just take me someplace with a pay phone and I can call someone to come for me." Robin deftly pressed a hand against a window pane so her prints might be found if anything sinister happened. She did the same when she got inside the truck. 'Bruce' was the man's name. He cranked up the truck, drove down his drive, and turned onto the gravel road. "Do you need to stop at your car?" He asked. "Please," she replied. Bruce pulled up beside the Sebring and stopped. Robin fetched her briefcase and returned to the truck. She remained silent, alert, and thinking, as he drove towards the paved state road. Then, less than a mile away, a large pine lay across the way. "Let's go the other direction," Robin ordered. "Cant," Bruce said. "Why not!" "The road cuts across a swamp and is under water." "I need to get home! I am not spending the night out here in the boonies with a man who could be a killer!" Robin was close to her limit for frazzled. Bruce looked at her. "Wanna sit in your car all night?" "Maybe," she lied. "It's 10 o'clock now, so it shouldn't no more than, oh!, twelve hours till someone comes along. Or it may be someone you're not expecting who comes a whole lot sooner. Then there's the bathroom problem to consider," he reminded her. He frowned, turned the truck around, and returned to the cottage. He left the truck and unlocked the front door. Robin remained in the truck. 'Plan to stay outside all night?' Bruce yelled to her over the din of the rain. Robin clutched her stuff, opened the door, limped to the cottage through the downpour, and went inside. The house looked like a rustic lodge. The main room had a large fireplace at one end and a cathedral ceiling. The hearth and floor were made from fieldstones. Old reupholstered furniture filled the room, and a bookcase covered an entire wall. Robin guessed it held 2,500 books. The opposite end of the room served as a dining area, with an adjoining kitchen, and a loft above. "Wanna bathe first, or eat?" "I didn't bring a change of clothes." "The closet is full of flannel shirts, and there's a toothbrush and throwaway razors in the bathroom. You can sleep on the bed tonight. I'll sleep on the sofa. Are you hungry?" "Maybe." "If you decide you are, help yourself in the kitchen, or you can take pot-luck with me. Can you handle the stairs okay?" "Maybe." "Give it a whirl, then." Bruce went to the kitchen. Robin limped up the stairs. When she reached the loft she felt all the aches and pains of her ordeal. She felt the wall for a light switch and found none. What she discovered was a battery push-light mounted to the wall whose illumination was about as strong as a night-light but revealed the bathroom door, after her eyes adjusted to the dark. The loft was filled with books, too, and finished with rough-sawn cedar planks, large Italian floor tiles, and rugs made of wild animal pelts. She giggled when she saw the bear skin on the floor. "Mmmm. This needs to be by the fireplace." She didn't see the black Franklin heater near it, then pressed a light beside the bathroom doorway. The vanity and toilet were finished with wood. The tub was an ancient cast iron monster with legs. Inside the bathroom, a folding door opened on a cedar clothes closet and linen rack. Robin looked along the hanging shirts until a red plaid, cotton flannel number caught her attention. It felt soft and smelled good. She removed it from the hanger and limped back to the bathroom where she started the water flowing into the tub. A glass and bottle of chilled pinot grigio wine sat on the toilet lid. A new toothbrush and grooming samplers were laid out on the vanity above. "I didn't even hear him!" She limped to the door, locked it, undressed, stepped into the tub, and immersed her body beneath the water while sipping wine and absorbing the soothing heat into her sore and aching places, promptly falling asleep. A voice calling her and knocking on the door woke her up. "You alive?" Startled, Robin reached for her watch; she'd been asleep almost an hour. "I'll be done in a few minutes!" "Okay. Chows on when you're ready." "Thanks!" She gulped the rest of her wine and started washing. When she unlocked the door and stepped into the bedroom she immediately saw that the old heater was blazing and casting a dancing orange light about the room. A patchwork quilt and sheets were turned down on the bed. The tail of the shirt covered her knees. "He's too nice," she concluded as she limped down the stairs to the great room and dining area. He sat at the table eating. "I got hungry," he apologized. "I hope you don't mind spaghetti." "Spaghetti is fine." She pulled out a chair and sat. Two tureens, a plate of sliced tomatoes, and a breadboard with a loaf of Italian bread sat on the table. Robin uncovered one of the tureens and served herself some vermicelli; from the other tureen she ladled out sauce that smelled divine and looked yummy. "Here's some parmesan, if you want it." Robin wrinkled her nose. She did not do Kraft parmesan cheese from a bottle. She took a bite of the spaghetti. "This is pretty good!" She was surprised and smiled. "Thanks I got it out of a cookbook I bought." "Gaida? Contessa?" "No, some lady who writes KOUNTRY KITCHEN cooking articles." "Oh! Her! Well, the quality of this sauce is definitely surprising if the Kountry bumpkin created it. No offense, but I think she starts with ALPO and adds a little spice and a garnish. Rachel Ray is a real cook." Robin cut a hunk of bread from the loaf. "Want some wine?" "Sure, thanks," Robin replied. Bruce filled her glass. "So what do you do out here with no lights or phone?" She asked. "I live here." "But why?" She seemed surprised. "It's what's left of my family's farm. I grew up here." "But how can you do that when this is a national forest; are you sure the Kountry bumpkin made this recipe?" "Yes, she did, I'll show you the book. When the government condemned the land the law says that the homesteader can stay on the land until they die or leave." "But you have no phone or electric!" "The law doesn't guarantee utilities and the Forest Service doesn't want to encourage anyone to stay forever." "So no power?" "No power, no phone, no improvements like a pool or addition, either." He poured her more wine. "Do you work around here?" She asked. "I have a printer union card, but mostly I write," he replied. " A printer, huh?" "My folks were printers." "Printers and farmers." She said and wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked at Bruce. His eyes were light gray. "Ready for bed?" He asked. "Soon." "Want some coffee?" "No, but some hot cocoa would be good," she suggested. "You got it!" He replied. Robin started to clear the table but he shooed her into the great room where she examined his books and mementoes. "Who's the girl?" She wondered. "My daughter." "She's very pretty." "Thanks. She looks her mom." "Where's mom?" "She died. Melissa stays with my sister." "Oh! I'm sorry." "This place is too isolated for a teen, so she comes home on weekends. Well, Sundays mostly." Robin moved to a desk and spied several awards mounted on the wall. She knew the name on all of them. She looked at Bruce. "You're Bruce Grant?" "That's me," hereplied. "The Bruce Grant who writes all the stories for Disney?" "That's me." Robin sat on the sofa feeling flummoxed by the revelation. "Do you know how many little girls would murder to be here in your home!" "It's a nice retreat at times. Let me get the cocoa." He brought her cocoa. "I'm going up and shower, before you get in bed, so excuse me and amuse yourself, okay?" "Sure." Robin thought about Bruce Grant for a long while and fell asleep watching the fire smolder and glow. When she awoke she was in Bruce's arms going up the stairs to the loft. Bruce carried Robin to the loft and laid her on the bed. She mumbled something and fell asleep. He covered her with the sheet and quilt, and returned downstairs after he collected a blanket and pillow. After he unlaced his sneakers and pulled off his sweater, he stretched out on the sofa and read till he fell asleep. Outside the rain poured steadily and thunder rumbled. The cottage had a metal roof and the patter of the rain upon it was hypnotic. Robin dreamed she stood beside a pool fed by a mountain stream. The water was pleasant and her surroundings suggested the pool and mountain were on a Pacific Island. Orchids and lotus and hibiscus grew profusely about the pool. 'Maui!" She smiled in her sleep. She removed the silk kimono she wore, letting it fall around her feet. She was naked when she stepped into the pool and immersed her body in the stream of water gliding down the rocks and spilling around her neck. "Mmmm.' She reclined, resting her head upon a smooth stone. A decanter of wine and two glasses magically materialized. "Oooo!" She giggled. The glasses were frosted with ice that didn't seem to melt and didn't feel cold to her touch. A zephyr fluttered the leaves at the top of the trees around the pool, creating a happy natural tune. Robin loved the days following autumn storms back home, when the humidity was suddenly low and the breezes felt cool against her skin, and leaves fluttered through the air and danced along the ground. Robin plucked a Lotus blossom and tasted it. 'Mmmm.' She sucked more of the nectar from the flower and began to feel aroused and dreamy. She took a sip of wine and watched bees flying from blossom to blossom, slipping deep down the flower's throats to gather the sweetness for themselves. The air caressed her skin, teasing her sun-kissed flesh, making her nipples erect. Sighing, she shifted a little and licked her lips. The sun made her hot, the wind excited her, and the lotus made her dreamy. A horse neighed close by and she opened her sleepy eyes wide. She glanced around and saw a Centaur standing near her. He looked vaguely familiar as if she should know him, and as she looked at him his rigid equine cock slid out of its sheath as he stepped into the stream and walked toward the pool and Robin. Moving slowly toward her, his cock became longer. And when he stood beside her, close enough to touch, if she leaned toward him a little, she gulped the wine glass dry and felt her body move toward the centaur. Then a tremendous peel of thunder and blinding bolt of lightning vanquished the Centaur. Robin screamed and jumped from the water. Thunder and lightning crashed about her, creating intense panic and confusion. She screamed and wailed. "Youre okay," she heard a familiar voice trying to calm and sooth her. It was a male voice and she felt an arm press against her back and side. She sat in the darkness and cried for a few moments. Outside it was storming fiercely. "I think the storm scared you," the voice spoke again. "I hate thunder and lightning!" She whispered. 'You're safe,' the voice reassured her. 'Bruce?" She asked. "Go back to sleep," he replied. "Don't go just yet; read me a story till I fall asleep." "What kind of story?" He asked. "Something with a princess in it." "Okay, let me go see what I have." "Don't you know any princess stories!" She frowned. "I thought you were a writer." "Next time you get lost I'll have some on-hand!" "Well it's not like I can call ahead, you know. You gotta take the bull by the horns and be prepared," she wiped her nose of the shirt sleeve. Bruce got up to go. "Where you going?" She asked. "To look" for some stories." "My muscles hurt, too. Will you rub my feet while you read the story?" Bruce looked at her sternly. "One thing at a time, okay?" "Get a good story. I have a friend in Florida who tells really lame stories. I don't want a lame story." Mysterious Ways He shook his head and smirked. "I'll see what I can do." "And don't take forever." When Bruce returned to the loft Robin lay on her stomach wrapped in a sheet pulled down to her waist, her flannel shirt draped over a chair. Her head rested atop her arms and faced the window. Her eyes were closed. Bruce turned to leave. "Did you find my story?" She asked. "Yes," he replied. "I changed my mind," she whispered and smiled. "Okay." "Will you massage me?" She opened her eyes briefly but didn't look at Bruce. Bruce sat on the side of the bed, then went to work kneading Robin's shoulders. "Not so rough!" She complained. Bruce adjusted his finger pressure. "That's better!" Robin closed her eyes. Bruce worked on her shoulders for several minutes. "I'm thirsty," she said. "What would you like?" "Got any more wine?" She asked. "Be right back." Bruce went to the kitchen, returned in a few minutes, and held out a glass to Robin. She lifted herself up from the mattress and took the glass. Bruce got a good look at her bosom. "Thanks!" She covered herself and Bruce resumed massaging her shoulders. Robin turned her head back and looked at him briefly. "You've been very sweet to me, I appreciate it. I feel much better." She licked the wine from her lips. "Would you massage my feet?" Bruce turned his head expecting Robin to turnover to adjust the sheet. "That's not necessary," she said as she raised-up and turned over onto her back. Bruce got an eye full of her charms. She smiled at him when he moved his eyes up to her face, then covered her breasts with the sheet. Bruce uncovered her left foot and gently kneaded it with his fingers. Robin pulled the sheet away from her leg, leaving the top of her thigh covered. "I need to put something on your foot," he said. "I cleaned it in the tub," she replied. "But it must be painful?" "I can deal with it." "No. let me get some pain cream." He got up and went in the bathroom for a moment. Bruce uncapped the cream as Robin slowly slid her foot back, raising her knee. Bruce looked at her briefly as she watched him, watching her. Her thighs were pressed together but she briefly released the tension and Bruce noticed. He dabbed the cream around the sprain. "Feels better already!" She cooed and sipped her wine then twisted around to fluff her pillow. Her thighs parted for a moment as she raised herself with her arms to see Bruce better. The top of the sheet drooped exposing much of her cleavage. It looked to her like Bruce had some wood in his pants. She touched it with her big toe. "Is that a banana for me?" She looked puzzled. "If you're in the mood for dessert, it is," he winked at her. "I'm fond of large, firm, sweet bananas," she pressed her toes against his erection. "Is your banana like that?" "Maybe you want to examine it?" He teased. "Can I?" She replied. Bruce stood up and stepped close to her. She looked in his eyes as she unfastened his belt and pulled the zipper down, then pushed her hand in and cupped him in her palm and fingers. "It feels like the real thing; mind if I look at it?" She studied his face. "Go for it." "Thanks," she said. His cock thumped against the front of his shorts causing the fabric to swell. She pulled him out, then moved her finger tips along the shaft while she looked up at him. "Scootch forward a little, would you?" She requested. "What do you call it?" "Chaquita," he replied. She pouted at him, then smiled, realizing she could use her hands and mouth to convince him to feed her what she wanted. Her clit tingled from the mental image and a small shiver suddenly blossomed. Bruce smirked at her and expressed a slightly cruel edge to his voice when he spoke. He was in no hurry. Her past lovers wanted her to come quickly and often, but not him. He seemed mildly perverted, making her wait, keeping her on edge. A drop of sweat formed in her cleavage and hung there, quivering with each beat of her heart; each breath, making her aware of her skin, her breathing, and her pulse. While she wondered about her next course of action, she picked up her glass of wine. It was slippery and beaded with moisture, and as she struggled to hold onto it, some of the wine spilled on her breasts. She looked at him with lust-glazed eyes. Bruce dropped his pants and stepped out of them. Robin leaned over and tugged the waistband of his boxers down his hips. Bruce kicked them off and climbed onto the bed as Robin scooted toward the middle of the mattress and lay back; she didn't bring the sheet with her. Robin reminded Bruce of Liz Taylor in Cleopatra. He leaned forward to kiss her as she embraced him and pulled him to her. Her lips parted and her eyelids half closed, her pink tongue waited to welcome him in. They kissed and his hands explored her breasts, cupping and kneading them. He became bolder and moved down a little to kiss and lick her breasts, then sucked her nipples to make them harder, if possible, while his tongue played little games with them. Her breasts swelled. Bruce rolled the nipples between her fingers, back and forth, and pulled on them. He pulled harder and longer, to measure her pleasure. She seemed to enjoy the pain and arched her chest upward. Bruce took one nipple between his teeth and squeezed it. Robin closed her eyes and moaned. He squeezed harder and raked the nipple with his teeth. She pulled Bruce's head and pushed it against her breast and pressed her fingernails into his scalp. Bruce nipped harder and Robin yelped and almost climaxed. Bruce pinched the erect nipples between the fingers of each hand and rolled and pulled them. He took her nipples, pulled and shook the breasts from side to side, up and down, making them dance. Robin moved her hand to her pussy, and while Bruce pulled and rolled the nipples, her fingers strummed her clit till she cried out. Bruce watched Robin's fingers make lazy circles around her clit and pull at her pussy lips with the other hand until she came. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.And kissed her again when her breathing was back to normal, her lovely brown eyes open wide in astonishment. Bruce kissed her and moved beside her to kiss her again, his tongue sliding across Robin's lips and into her mouth slowly and sensuously. His hands stroked and kneaded her breasts; discovering all the sensitive spots. Robin thrust them upward a little, closed her eyes, and entwined her tongue with his. He kissed her cheeks, kissed her ear, and probed her ear with his tongue. She shivered and goose bumps erupted on her. Bruce licked her neck, then her breasts some more. He traced circles around the nipples, then squeezed her tits gently but firmly. Her breasts ached to be suckled again, and he finally covered the nipple with his mouth and sucked her hard. He nipped the tip, catching the nipple between her teeth, pulled, and gave Robin a touch of pain. Bruce sucked Robin for a long time, moved his mouth lower, leaving a silvery-wet trail over her body to her thighs, pushing between them as she opened herself wide and lifted her legs to her breasts, spreading herself open for him, abandoning herself to her carnal hunger. He kissed her wide spread pussy, then drew back a little, grinned, and kissed it again. Robin rotated her hips to help him, and felt her pussy lubricate. His tongue found her clit and sucked until she felt a finger explore her gash, then slide inside. Her hips hunched upward as he sucked. The she felt another finger follow the first and slip inside her. Robin moaned as he finger-fucked her and sucked her tits, and felt as if she would come apart like shattered crystal. "Oh Baby, cross your fingers inside me and rotate your wrist. Please!!" His fingers pumped in and out, rotating inside her. Finally she pulled back, turned, and lay on her side facing Bruce. "I need some water," she said. "I'll get some for you." "No you won't, I'll get it; besides I'm nosey and want to see your kitchen! Can I bring you anything?" "No, I'm fine," he replied. Robin left and returned in 15 minutes with glasses, ice, two Cokes, and a bottle of whisky. "Want some?" She motioned to the bottle. "Sure, fix me one." Robin made the drinks and handed him his. The she went exploring to his closet returning with a wad of neckties. "Want me to tie you up?" He asked. "You first, if you're game!" "Sure," he said. Robin bound Bruce to the bed with the ties, then climbed on the mattress with the whisky bottle. Robin sipped the whisky and swirled it around her mouth, feeling it burn her tongue and cheeks; she lowered her lips to his hard shaft. Kissing it softly, she licked the head and sucked him into her burning mouth. Bruce sighed and moaned. His breathing increased as her fingernails teased his balls. Moving her mouth around his shaft, Robin sucked his cock like a hungry kitten sucks milk from its mother's nipple. She teased his cock while she enjoyed her feast. Swallowing the remaining drops of bourbon in her mouth caused the back of her throat to tighten around the tip of his dick and he squirmed trying to push more of his cock into her mouth. She licked his shaft, stopped, and watched him as he begged for more. Robin flashed a wicked smile and reached for the glass of ice. She took an ice cube and ran it over the head of his cock and down his shaft to watch him close his eyes. Then she put the cube into her mouth and rolled it around on her tongue to make chill bumps rise on his thighs when she licked him. Leaning back to touch his dick with her cold tongue, Robin's hair fell against his thighs, tickling him. As she licked and sucked him, Bruce's mind dwelt on the pleasure he felt. Her cold tongue licked the stem of his aching cock, then closed her lips around the head of his cock. Bruce wanted to touch her hair. He lowered his eyes and watched as she bobbed her head up and down on his cock. He wanted her to take his whole cock, to feel her choking for her next breath as he fucked her mouth. The desire was strong to make her taste his cum while he pressed his cock against her throat. As the ice melted, Robin swallowed the chip that remained. She pushed her lips up his shaft, then she pulled her mouth away and sat back to take another sip of bourbon, then rose to to kiss him. She touched his lips as he opened his mouth to meet her kiss. She allowed a small drop of the whisky to drip into his mouth. "Untie me so I can touch you." Sensing he was at the limit of his endurance, Robin untied the scarves and placed his hands on her breasts. Bruce caressed them softly and teased her nipples with his fingers. Bruce removed two cubes from the glass and touched her nipples, then traced circles around them as Robin bit her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the feelings the ice brought; her pussy nectar warmed with his touch. She thought about his fingers and the ice, and felt him drag the cubes down her belly to her shaved mound. The ice melted and dripped over her pussy. She cooed as Bruce opened her and touched her button with the ice. She winced once. He sucked her nipple and raked his teeth across the nipple as he touched her with the ice. Robin spread her legs and straddled Bruce; he suckled her nipples and pressed ice against her slit, then opened her with his fingers and pushed the ice cube inside her. Her heat dissolved the ice and the melt coated his fingers. He moved his cock close to her pussy and pushed the other ice cube inside her. And when the ice melted, he mounted her. Robin gripped his shoulders, pressing her nails into his skin. He held her hips, guiding her ride on his cock; her pussy tightened around him with each push. She smiled and looked into Bruce's eyes. Watching him lift her breasts to his lips and kiss them, and enjoying his cock sliding in and out of her. With each thrust of their hips he nibbled her nipples. She moaned with the pleasure and pain his teeth created, the feelings shot through her body to her button. The intense pleasure absorbed her mind and body, and she wanted to climax with Bruce. Bruce fondled her nipples as she dug her nails deeper into his shoulders. Pushing herself harder onto his cock, she ground her clit against his pelvic bone and felt his hot breath on her breasts. His hands gripped her hips and impaled her on his shaft. Her feelings and juices flowed. Bruce watched her body release its lust and pushed his cock into her with new vigor. They struggled for air and the rhythm of their rutting diminished like a spent rain shower. Finally, they both were still, snuggled together, feeling and listening to their hearts beating inside their chests and the quiet house. Robin looked into Bruce's eyes and kissed him on the forehead; he lowered his face to her sweat glistened bosom and licked her dry. Robin then lay on her stomach and draped a leg over Bruce and pushed her fingers through his graying hair. "Wanna go to sleep?" He asked. "No," she whispered. "Got something in mind?" "Maybe," she hinted. "What?" "Will you do anal with me?" He asked. She opened her eyes wide. "Sure." "Let me get some lotion or something." Robin bounced out of bed and returned with a small squeeze bottle. "Here, rub this on you." Bruce lubed his cock with the lotion and Robin got on her hands and knees. 'Are you comfortable?' He whispered. "Um hmmm," she purred, feeling his firm, warm cock press against her bottom. He nuzzled her neck below her ear, then licked and nibbled the back of her neck until her skin was gooseflesh. She felt his weight shift and the heat of his cock on her skin. She turned her head, winked at him, and wiggled her ass; he gave it a slap that made her yelp. She inhaled, braced herself, and pressed her bottom against him, then pushed back until she felt the head force a shallow penetration. She was a tight fit. He inhaled, too, talking to himself about cumming too soon. She inhaled again, adjusted her ass and legs, and pushed her sphincter past the head; she winced and inhaled again, fast. 'The worst is over! He's in!" Her pain subsided. "Hang on, honey. Let me catch my breath," Robin adjusted her stance again, pulling forward slightly. She rotated her pelvis, moving his cock around in a shallow circle. She felt the muscles in her ass flex. Then she pushed once more, taking another inch of him. Robin inhaled slowly. "Okay, okay!" She pushed rhythmically and slowly, back and forth, in and out. Soon he was half of the way into her. "I don't know if I can take it all. I don't know if I can," Robin talked to herself, her attention focused on her body. She became still for a moment, then slowly pushed back over him. Bruce watched the lotion form a ring around her hole as she absorbed him inside her. Robin panted, and scooting forward, she flexed her anus, making a few short pulls on him. "Is that all of it?" She squeaked, turning her head back to look at Bruce. His cock buried to the hilt, Robin felt his balls touching her warm pussy. "Okay, I'm ready," she moaned, panting, various muscles on her body flexing. Bruce hesitated a moment, then slid in, then out. She relaxed a little, spreading her stance her legs, her hands groping the mattress sensuously now. "Okay. Oh yeah. Keep doing that. Don't stop. "Harder, baby! Good." Bruce closed his eyes, getting into an easy rhythm, pumping her lightly, trying not to hurt her with his lust. Robin started thrusting against him, using her firm pelvic muscles to drive him into her. She pulled him down on her back, trying to kiss him over her shoulder. She whispered obscene and wanton sounds in between pants. "All the way, stay, oh move like that!" Robin watched them copulate in the mirror. She felt kind of dreamy. Her tits hung down, the nipples hard and long, aching to be tugged on. She watched her breasts sway and flop in time with his thrusts. She felt hypnotized watching herself and Bruce. His reflected image showed his head was bent, his eyes focused on that place where their bodies joined. She wondered if it looked as good to him as it felt to her, the long slow slide of him stretching her, the grip of her sphincter around him as he pulled back. After several minutes he pulled her hips, and her bottom came closer against him; then he backed out and pushed deep, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. "Come for me," she said between huffs and pants. "Don't stop! Come inside me!" Robin rode the waves of pleasure and Bruce bent himself to the task. His eyes closed, his fingers tightened in her hair, and he pushed into her harder and faster until he came to his limit and froze, releasing himself with a low groan. As his cock spasmed inside her he took a tit in each hand and lifted her up against his chest to nibble and lick her neck, and to squeeze and roll her nipples, making her convulse in seizures of lust. Robin cuddled close to Bruce, and in a while she recovered enough to speak. "Bruce?" "What?" "Will you read me the princess story?" Outside it thundered. Robin wrapped her tired arms around Bruce's back and snuggled close.