3 comments/ 77532 views/ 5 favorites Clipping Her Wings By: TrueNorth1969 ***This might be of interest: For readers of my other stories, His Sister's Tutor and Choice Matters, this actually can be considered kind of a precursor to them which I had written many, many years before. I had lost the floppy disk this was stored on and by some elaborate circumstance, I stumbled upon it again recently. It might be hard to see but there are some "fingerprints" with plot points and characters. I edited it and fixed it up a bit, but it still is representative of my earlier works and youthful notions and interests. If anything, by submitting it to Literotica it'll at least be preserved should I lose the floppy again! Thank you always in advance for taking the time to read and comment.*** ********** Clara Pembroke was an alluring and elusive beauty. The description suited her. She had caught the eye of many men but not because she was "sexy" or a "striking beauty". She was pretty, very pretty, but it was more like something about her nature that seemed to draw the attention of men. And that was the problem: often the guys weren't quite sure what it was about her that got them turning their heads and walking in circles to see her. That made things difficult because how do you claim something that causes you more confusion than clarity? At any moment she could various combinations of so many qualities: kind, spiritual, attentive, serious, smart, funny, coy, prim, playful, on and on. And what beauty that laid within her emanated ten-fold to her outer attractiveness. A simple beauty, make up or no, Clara's natural physical qualities were never hidden. She had wide hazel eyes which could unnerve people as they seemingly peered into their minds, giving each person she spoke to her full undivided attention. It was impossible to pull away from them. Her eyes were the centerpiece of a genuinely caring face framed by flowing dark honey locks that at one moment could be hanging down past her shoulders, and the next curled up properly in a neat bun behind her head, only wispy strands that casually dangled down to her neck saving her from looking at all matronly. She always wore simple yet demure clothes, nothing that could be described as revealing or sexy. But if you asked some, Clara could make a full length summer dress sway and flow as seductively as a lace nighty. Alluring and elusive. Those qualities had been her shield whether deliberate or not. Many men who had first caught a glimpse of her would often walk by with barely a slight glance, but after a few steps, they would turn around and take a second, longer, almost curious look. Within moments after that, for some reason, their hearts were beating a little faster, their palms a little warmer. It wouldn't be long before more and more of their time and attention would be dedicated to this young woman. But somehow in her 24 years on earth, Clara managed to elude all of the advances of the opposite sex, and not necessarily deliberately. It was more like her suitors would self-destruct, their minds and libidos in turmoil as they struggled to decide if they wanted to protect this precious angel or pluck the feathers from her wings. Clara ended up with more men who she treated like her "older brother" or male "buddies" than she knew what to do with. So it was that Clara, the object of many thoughts of love and lust, and the subject of much confusion and frustration, could side-step the awkward moments with various suitors. It meant that she was never in a steady relationship but then again, she never had much time to dedicate to a lasting relationship and she would never "sleep around". That was the way she was raised. That's what she believed. And once men came up against her beliefs, that shield easily deflected their come ons no matter how aggressive they were. Then again, maybe she just never met anyone she felt strong enough for to even those defences slide even a little. The person who could get his foot into that door may find opportunities with her even she couldn't dare imagine. She was an angel waiting to be stolen from Heaven. ********** Clara walked down the cement corridor of aisle D in the warehouse. It was lunch time so the usually noisy building was nearly empty and silent. She looked up at the tall shelves holding stacks of boxes which contained hundreds of books. Christian books. They were the books her company distributed to specialty stores and churches around the country. Before she had started working in the front office, she had never figured Christian books to be such a big business. But after only working three months in the sales department, she knew the staff members at the thriving company were already being hard pressed to keep up with the demand. Clara checked her clipboard and walked further down the corridor. She stopped at holding bay 56 and examined the numbers on the boxes. They were different than the ones she had on her clipboard. She shook her head. She looked around a bit then proceeded down aisle D, turned the corner then walked back up aisle C, glancing at all the bays and boxes. Like a mouse in a maze, her actions weren't going unnoticed. "Hey, what's she up to?" Josh nodded towards the young woman wandering the warehouse aisles before taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Looks like she's checking inventory. Doesn't seem to be having much luck, huh?" Damon said as he drank his coffee. "Well, those admin honchos aren't supposed to be walking around in this area. This is our turf," Josh said, his mouth full of tuna. "She's not a 'honcho', she's just a sales assistant," Damon said pointedly, dismissing his partner's blue-collar tactlessness, "Clara's fine. She's cool." The two of them were sitting on the stairs that led to the viewing office in the upper level of the warehouse. Actually Damon had noticed her when she had first come in. Josh was too busy rummaging through his lunch bag. Damon had become accustomed to spotting Clara wherever she was in the company's complex. For a month after she was briskly introduced to the 'family' of employees at the company, Damon paid her no more attention than any of the other office staff. Aside from daily hellos, they had spoken only for a few brief moments. One time Clara came up to him with a playful grin on her face. She held up a book, "Final Truths: Beyond Earthly Fulfillment". Damon blinked and frowned. "Look," she had said with a gentle smile, "Open it up." Damon sighed and took the book from her. He flipped through the pages quickly. Then he paused and said, "Waitaminute. All the pages are blank." "I know! The entire shipment is that way!" she said and laughed gleefully, "How's that for "fulfilment"?!" Despite himself, Damon looked at her and chuckled. He caught a glimpse of just how warm and pretty this girl was, the beauty of her face. As she whisked away to the next person to show off her little joke, he watched her. He admired how her slender body gracefully moved away from him, the way her skirt swayed gently as she moved, and her scent that trailed after her would from that point on become a familiar one to him. A couple of days later, he heard some of the guys in the warehouse playing up their bravado and discussing which of the office girls they wouldn't mind taking a crack at. Somebody mentioned Clara. Damon chimed in, "Clara? Nah. She's a nice kid. I don't think she's like that. She's like an angel." "Hey! I'd like to clip some of her feathers!" somebody snorted and they all laughed luridly. More jokes about "taking her to heaven and back" and "showing her the light" followed. Damon laughed with them. However, the thought of the other guys in the company making a play for her really got him thinking. Now his mind had begun to wander, and at every turn there was Clara. Damon finished his coffee and placed the cup on the step beside Josh. "Well," he said as he stood up and stretched, "May as well see what she wants." Clara had just made her way to the end of the aisle C still looking at the clipboard. As she turned the corner, she walked into Damon. "Oh!" she yelped, dropping her clipboard which hit the floor with a rattle. "Whoops! Watch it there!" Damon put his hands up to buffer her when she bumped into him, "You okay, Clara?" Clara gasped as she caught her breath. She put a hand on her chest and steadied it, "Damon! You startled me!" "No kidding?" Damon looked around with a goofy smile, "Is it my brilliant smile?" She laughed and waved her hand at him, almost brushing his chest before she pulled back. Damon noted her motion with a curious tilt of his head. "Yes, I was so blinded I nearly fell over," she said jokingly. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he said, "Just came down to see if you needed some help. Oh, and I would never have let you fall, by the way." Clara paused to smile at his kind words. Her white teeth stretching her lips wide, and her eyes squinting as some colour formed in her cheeks. Damon realized how attractive she looked even with so little make up. "I was just checking for something," she said as she looked down for her clipboard. Some forms had scattered from it around the floor. She bent down to pick them up. Damon squatted down and picked up a couple of papers at his feet. He stayed in the position, his hands resting on his knees as he watched her pick up the other sheets in front of him. She was stooped over. Her white, lace-lined crew neck top hung lazily down from her neck. Considering how protective he had been of her amongst the other warehouse guys in the past, he felt only a subconscious level of concern as he took the opportunity to peer down the gaping neck of her shirt, along her chest, to the top of her bosom nestled softly in her delicately patterned bra. When she looked up he handed her the papers he had gathered. "Thank you," she said softly. "No problem," he replied as he stood up. He took her by the hand and elbow and helped her up, "Watch yourself." Again, Clara flashed a silent smile. Once standing she noticed that he hadn't let go of her hand. She pulled it away and rubbed her wrist awkwardly. Damon tilted his head and squinted. She saw the questioning expression on his face, "Oh. My wrist gets stiff sometimes. We're in the computer age after all. All that typing." Damon reached out and took her hand. He gently stroked it once, "Maybe you just need a good massage." He smiled. Clara watched him do this for a second, an uneasy swelling in her gut. Then she firmly pulled her hand away. Damon's smile quickly faded. He had moved too fast. Again she spoke softly, "But really, it only hurts once in awhile if I'm doing something with it for too long." "Well, that's good. Don't work it too hard then," Damon said with genuine concern. Switching gears he asked, "So Clara, what brings you to the dungeon?" Her attention quickly shifted back to the clipboard. She spoke matter-of-factly, "Well, if you could help...I had received a call from the North distribution center saying they were expecting a delivery yesterday. Our order records confirm that but I can't find the shipping invoice. Their order was supposed to be in bay 56 but I checked the numbers on the boxes there and they don't match." Damon rocked on his feet, his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Ah well, Miss Pembroke," he said noting how she smiled and rolled her eyes at his formality, "You see the numbers don't match because they're not the same boxes." Clara crossed her arms and raised a coy eyebrow, "Ri-ight?" "Beca-auuse the North shipment went out only this morning. We had a problem with the trucks yesterday and the delay backed us up. The North went out first thing this morning. They should be getting it right about....now! Bay 56 is now holding for the Southeast order," he finished up with a wave of his hands and, "Ta-dah!" Clearly she appreciated his animated explanation and broke down her only marginally professional demeanour. "Ah well," she said nodding deliberately, "That would explain it. Thank you Mr.Garcia." She snapped off a mocking salute. "Not at all. I'm good aren't I?" he winked. Clara slapped him in the arm with her clipboard and said in her most officially polite tone, "But next time we would very much appreciate it if you people in stocks would inform us of your adjustments in the shipping schedule. It would save us so much time and energy and I wouldn't have to go wandering in your...'dungeon' was it?" Damon curled up and backed away like a disobedient pup and spoke like a yokel, "Okay, lady! Okay! Please! Please, don't hurt me!" Again she rolled her eyes. "I got me a wife," he moaned on, "I've got kids, Rico and Sally....and-and a dog, Damon Jr. Please! Think of the kids!!!" Clara clicked her tongue then laughed as she swatted him with the clipboard again. Damon reached out to push her away gently. As he moved her back, he suddenly realized his hand wasn't on her shoulder. As he pushed, his felt the tender give of her soft breast beneath his fingers. In that brief moment, he had the urge to squeeze the finely shaped flesh in his palm. Clara stepped back. The suddenly calm expression on her face gave little evidence to Damon as to whether she had noticed his unintentional touch, or if she had, what she was thinking. She cleared her throat, brushing a strand of hair around the back of her ear, and said, "Well, thanks for your help, Damon. I guess I should get back to the office." He nodded, smiling crookedly, curiously, and watched her as she walked past him. She pivoted around and walked backwards, smiling and waving back at him. Then she continued to saunter towards the exit with light steps. Damon stood there, staring at her as she floated away towards the exit. He thought about how, for months, after he had figured out that she was going to be in his head everyday, he had played out in his mind just what he wanted from her. Various ideas of finally finding someone he might want to build a long lasting relationship with mingled with thoughts of carnal desires, of primal urges. It was this part of himself he always found so difficult to deny. Now the blood surged in him as he held tight to the feeling of her breast in his hand. He wanted it there again and he wanted to explore more of her fine, supple body. Sooner, not later. Clara turned just before she reached the door as she heard the slamming of heavy footsteps behind her. Damon ran up to her. She faced him, holding her clipboard down between her hands. He slowed to a stop and drew a deep breath. "Look Clara," he said, "I was wondering if you would like to go out sometime." "Oh, uh," she said hesitantly while looking at him. Her eyes shifted past him. "Friday. This Friday," he gave her a firm date. "Uh...," she paused for a long moment, blinking as she thought. "Okay. That would be nice." "Well, great," Damon said trying to sound excited but he found the expression on her face to be more of concern than enthusiasm, "I'll pick you up at your place after work? Maybe we could go for dinner, a movie?" "Sure. That would be fine. Okay." "Okay?" Damon repeated still troubled by her muted response. "Alright. Bye," Clara said quickly then exited. Again Damon found himself just standing and staring, this time watching the door slowly close. It was his turn to notice footsteps coming up from behind him. He turned and looked at Josh. "So," Josh started, putting his hand on Damon's shoulder, "Got yourself a date with the nun?" Damon walked away from him, letting Josh's hand slide off, "She's not Catholic, Josh. And she's nothing like a nun." "Oh I know! I'm kidding!" Josh smirked, "Never met a nun that made me want to go to a washroom stall for some private time." The two went up the stairs. "So what's on the agenda, then?" Josh continued, "Go out for dinner? A show? Clubs?" As Damon opened the door to the office, he said in a low, barely audible voice, "I'm going to see if I can blow out a candle." Clara walked the office halls slowly, her gaze fixed on the fading green carpet before her. She was in a familiar moment: A guy asking her out of the blue to go out on a date with him and she accepting the invitation, more out of politeness that actual interest. But it wasn't that she was totally uninterested in Damon. If she didn't want to go she would have said so no problem. Damon seemed like a nice guy whom she felt comfortable talking to and acting playful with. That was enough for her to accept his invitation. Physically, he was attractive with wavy black hair that fell to his neck and wide dark eyes. He liked to keep himself clean cut, his skin smooth and toned. He was what the other women in the office described as their "Spicey Spaniard". Clara didn't go for things like that, though. If she searched her mind and heart deeper, however, she knew there was something a little bit more to him that stirred her curiousity. Damon was a person of serious intent and determined conviction. She recalled the day they had break together at the picnic table in the small patch of grass in the company's parking lot. She had mentioned that she was considering taking some extra credit business courses at night school. "Maybe I can just enrol then go to a couple of the classes," she had thought aloud, "Then if I don't like it, I can always drop out." Damon responded without hesitation, "No. I don't agree with that." She looked at him as he shook his head side to side. He continued, "You either do it and do it all the way or you don't." Clara smiled, "You seem pretty sure of yourself. Don't you believe in trying out different things?" "It's not like you're picking an ice cream flavour," he insisted, "This is something important." "School is important to you?" She cringed as she spoke, realizing she may have sounded condescending. He fixed a cool gaze upon her. It rattled her a bit and her chin lowered slightly. He said, "I know that it's important to YOU." It was true. She had told him many times that she was proud of her education. Maybe she didn't think he was actually listening to her all those times. She nodded thoughtfully. She nudged him playfully, "So are you always this certain about things?" "When I'm sure about something," he said grinning, "I'm totally committed to it." Clara's heart missed a beat as he said that. She always told herself that she should feel the same way about things. To see someone else so intensely dedicated to that idea as well was inspiring. For that someone to be Damon, she found him particularly intriguing. That determination on his face definitely churned something deep within her. Clara wondered how sure he was of her? She shook her head. No. This would be a casual, friendly get together. If it's a first step in a long lasting relationship, then fine. More likely, as she had become accustomed to with many of her dates, she would be able to salvage this as a friendship. Clara lifted her head, more assured in thought, and walked to her office. Damon was harmless, she thought to herself. *********** When Friday evening came around, the plans had changed. Clara had told Damon she would just meet him at the restaurant rather than him picking her up from her place. This bothered him slightly only because he felt he would get a better foothold on the evening if he were to see her at her place, maybe even bring some flowers. As it was he sat at the table waiting for her trying not to look too conspicuous. She had also picked the restaurant. A bright, busy family type of place, with kids running betwen the tables. Again, not exactly to his liking. He had taken off his coat but even in a simple black Henley sweater, he felt out of place. It was far too casual for the type of evening he had been anticipating. Clipping Her Wings Sitting there alone, waiting for her, he had a few minutes to think about what exactly it was he had been anticipating. During the week, to his chagrin, Josh had spread the word about the date amongst the warehouse crew. The response ranged from muted snickers to some immediate and outright lurid suggestions on how to pluck the fine flower that was Clara. When confronted with the latter, Damon just shut his mouth and walked away. He was torn between being protective of the sweet young woman whose kindness was as attractive as her looks and the urge to indulge in all the macho fantasies his coworkers were tossing in his face, as well as a few of his own. Damon was no slouch in that area. As Friday approached, he had instances where he would see her and his heart would sigh like a lost soul. Minutes later he would see her again and he would suddenly become all too aware of the urgent ache in his groin as he indulged in carnal thoughts about the evening. Even as she appeared at the entrance to the restaurant and waved to him, in that moment, part of him wanted to just hold her and move slowly to the music of some waltzing rhapsody and another part of him wanted to grab her, drag her to his car, and just take her right there in the back seat. Damon desperately needed to find a focus with this woman if he wanted to move ahead with her one way or the other. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she pulled up her chair and sat down, "The bus took so long." "I know. Traffic's bad. But that's okay, I wasn't here too long," he replied, "And you'll let me drive you home tonight, right?" "Oh, don't worry. I can take the bus," Clara said as she picked up the menu. "No. You're going to let me drive you home," Damon said realizing too late he may have spoken a little too firmly. Clara looked up with a quizzical expression. He flashed an awkward smile. "Okay," she said calmly, "That'd be very nice of you." She quickly returned to looking at her menu. "No problem," he said trying to contain his stiff smile. But it was a problem. He had absolutely no control over how the date was progressing. To some extent, it was his own fault as he couldn't decide what he wanted from her. Being able to drive her home would at least extend his time to think about this. They didn't say much until they had ordered. When they did start the conversation, Clara did most of the talking and Damon was more than content to listen and to watch her. She was wearing a plain pale blue skirt that hung just above her knees and another white cotton shirt with a simple pattern design around the v-neck collar. Her hair was in a half bun, deliberately pulled wisps of hair flowing down in the back. It was decidedly casual except for one small hook. Around her neck she wore a tight velvet choker with a gold heart pendant. It was almost downright sexy resting around her soft white neck and Damon undeniably was aroused whenever he gazed at it. He found lots of things to look at as she talked. Aside from her attire and her glowing face and hair, her hands were very animated as she talked. The more passionate she was about her topic, the quicker she would speak and the more animated her hands became. And she was passionate about many things including her love of music, her family, traveling, and her spirituality. Her beliefs were admirable, even compelling as they defined her as a person, which is what Damon had found so alluring. But he knew that spirit could be an obstacle as well if he decided he wanted to explore more intimate roads with her. Strangely enough, with this thought in mind, Damon's eyes tightened and he drew his mouth into a fine line smile. The challenge of getting past her convictions had become attractive in itself. "What are you smiling about?" she asked with a coy grin. His mind was starting to run in a smooth rhythm again, "Just thinking how much I enjoy just listening to you...and watching you as we talk. You seem to speak just with your hands." For the first time that night she blushed, "It's a bad habit. I wave my hands around too much. I talk too much." She folded her hands together and lowered her stare to the table silently. "You have lots to talk about," Damon said. "No. I just go on and on sometimes." Damon tilted and lowered his head trying to meet her eyes. When he did, he placed a hand on top of hers as she rested it on the table and said firmly, "No. You don't." Clara warmed to such an honest remark. She looked into his light brown eyes and felt more at ease. The conversation became more comfortable. She didn't pull away from his hand. Damon's confidence swelled. They talked through dinner, through dessert, and through seconds of coffee. They decided to forego trying for a movie, instead lingering in the restaurant long after the family crowd had gone. Several more times throughout the evening, Damon reached out and touched her hand and by the end of their dinner, she was doing the same. Clara smiled inside. She realized she was actually developing an attraction for him. He had an honest smile and expressive, handsome face. And he seemed genuinely interested in her as a person. He still hadn't decided how he wanted the night to end. As they got up to leave the restaurant, Clara noted something bright gold twinkle at his collar. Damon reached under his collar and pulled out a necklace and pendant, a simple gold crucifix. "That's really nice," Clara said, almost pleased by the sight of it, "But there's something wrong." Damon looked down at it around his neck and frowned. He watched as her hands reached for the pendant. "The clasp has slipped to the front," she said holding the pendant and adjusting the necklace. She stared at it as she did so and added, "Now you can make a wish." Damon had his eyes on her as she was looking at and holding his pendant. "What?" he asked. "I moved the clasp to the back," she answered, "You're supposed to make a wish." She lowered the pendant against the top of his chest, gently stroking the tips of her fingers around its shape before pulling her hand away. Then she turned and headed for the restaurant exit. Still standing at the table, Damon was breathing deeply. He watched her skirt sway seductively to the graceful motions of her hips. He had made his wish when she had touched his chest. *********** Their conversation didn't stop while in the car. If anything it got more raucous as they joked and teased one another. Damon liked the way Clara's voice lilted and emoted, and he loved her fresh unhindered laugh. His body tingled each time she would reach out and touch his shoulder and then he would smile when she would say with the utmost honesty, "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't distract you when you're driving." Truth was, Damon's driving was on automatic already. It was her perfume that had got to him, a light, unobtrusive scent that wafted gently to him. It was sweet like her. Not sweet like the smell of flowers, but sweet AS flowers. Often at work, without turning his head, Damon knew Clara was or had been in the vicinity just by the indescribably sweet scent of hers. Now in the enclosed confines of the car, the heady aroma seductively wrapped all around him, whetting his appetite for her. They pulled into the driveway of a large detached home. There were no lights, the big yard entirely in the dark. Damon peered from behind the wheel, "Looks like nobody's home." "Actually, my landlords live in the house and they're away in Florida. I'm renting the basement," she said, then frowned as she unbuckled her seat-belt, "The entrance is through the back." "It looks pretty dark," Damon remarked. "I forgot to switch on the patio lights before I left," Clara sighed. She had already pulled the handle on the door before Damon realized the night was ending abruptly. He started to speak, "Uh, Clara..." "Thank you for the dinner," she said with a beaming smile as she stepped out of the car. She leaned back in and continued, "I had a nice time, Damon. A really nice time. See you at work Monday?" Damon was stuck in a pregnant pause trying to find the words he wanted to speak. In that moment, he suddenly caught another glimpse down the neck of her shirt. He stole a quick look, then up to the fetching choker around her neck, and then finally her deep attractive eyes. There was a nudge in the crotch of his pants. He switched off the engine, opened the door and got out. Clara stepped back on her side of the car, holding the door, a startled expression on her face. "I'll walk you to the door," he said suddenly. Almost as quickly she snapped, "No it's okay!" "No. It's not okay. It's dark back there, Clara," he remarked. "I know. I've done this before. I forget to turn on the lights and I come home-" "Well, I'm here so I might as well help you to your door, right?" he said cutting her off. Without letting her reply he began making his way to the side of the house. He looked back to her. She had still been standing beside the car, watching him. Reluctantly, she closed the door and walked towards him. "Thank you," she said softly but without looking at him. He smiled and nodded, letting her pass by him. He followed behind her. The sweet scent of her perfume mingled with the smell of the cool night air and the fresh earthy smell of the garden in the backyard, illuminated by the glow of the moon. As they made their way through the back, Clara looked back at him. She flashed a nervous smile when she saw him looking right at her. Damon swallowed back the eager anticipation racing up his gut. He could sense he was taking control of the evening. More importantly for him, a sense of clarity had fallen upon him. Frozen in the moment, standing behind her, absorbing her smell, admiring her slender and soft form, drawn to her indomitable spirit. He would answer the yearning in his gut, and the illicit desires in his heart and mind. Tonight, whether she sensed it now or not, this sweet angel Clara was going to have her wings clipped. They reached her door. Clara pulled out her keys and inserted it in the lock. Damon leaned up on the side of the house, staring at her, grinning at her. "Thank you again," she said even more softly, only glancing at him from the side of her eyes, feeling his own upon her. She worked the lock, her keys rattling. There was a click. She quickly turned the knob. "Can I come in?" Damon said. Clara hesitated. Still looking at the door, she exhaled a long breath and then turned to him, her hand never leaving the knob. "I-...no, maybe we...I'm sorry maybe I should just go to bed. It's been a long week and I'm tired..." Damon found her sudden skittishness to be too much to resist. He pressed his advantage, leaning in and speaking with a slick tongue, "Come on Clara. Let me in." She looked at him, her mouth open but not saying anything except stunted sounds. Her urge to leave him on the steps of her door smacked head on with that charming grin and eager eyes on his face. She opened the door and walked in quietly. As she passed through the door Damon heard her say, "Okay." Clara walked ahead through the apartment switching on the lights. It was actually a fairly big space but the wood wall-paneling made for a darker, warmer place than might be expected. The usual vacuum-like muffled sounds from being in a basement were present. She had it simply decorated, books and trinkets on shelves, country-styled furniture, a small stereo, no television. Damon stood in the foyer until she returned. "Let me take your jacket," she said, her nerves seemingly easing a bit now that he was already in the apartment. She hung his coat in a closet and then turned to him clasping her hands together, "Would you like the tour?" Damon folded his hands behind his back and walked toward her, grinning sheepishly, "By all means, show me your humble abode." "This is the kitchen," she said pointing. "Is that genuine linoleum," he commented. She smiled and continued, "The dining room." "Or the office by the looks of it," he joked commenting on all the papers on the table. "Living room," she said stifling a chuckle. "That fake wood-panelling is a real selling point." She opened a door and posed like a showgirl, "The bathroom." "Where one takes a bath, I suppose?" he mocked. She slapped him lightly on the arm her eyes widening, "I suppose!" They walked to another door. She swung it open. "The bedroom," she said waving her hand towards it, "Where I suppose one would sleep!" Damon strolled in and looked around. Her most private sanctum was clean and pristine with an effeminate decor that reflected her own demure nature. He walked right up to the bed. Looking at it he said, "I suppose...among other things." He pushed two fingers into the mattress. The vacuum silence hung in the air. He could feel her mood shift immediately, her heart skip a beat, her uncertain gaze fixed on him. He liked it. Very much. He walked around the room, looking at the pictures on the wall, the items on the dressers and bed stand, waiting for her next move. "Would...you like something to drink?" she asked, again her voice switching to an uncertain tone, "I have Coke or Sprite..." Damon shook his head, grimacing towards her. He continued thoroughly examining her bedroom, knowing she was thinking of a way to get him out of there. "Oh!" she suddenly piped in with a chirp her hands stretched out in front of her, "I just remembered! I have something for you!" He tilted his head and raised a brow. "It's...it's in the living room," she pointed with both hands down the hall, "Come on. I want to give it to you." She quickly disappeared from the doorway. Damon followed at a leisurely pace, familiarizing himself with her bedroom. By the time he made it to the living room Clara was already sitting on one end of the couch, her posture upright and prim. He stood for a long moment in the front of the room just to look at her. Clara shifted nervously on the couch, waiting for him to join her. He sat down on the other end, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, awaiting her 'gift'. She had a black book on her lap. "Now, this is something special," she said slowly and deliberately, "I just wanted to give you something." She handed the book to him like she were handing him a diploma. Damon scanned the cover. It was a book entitled "Chosen Paths: Teachings of the New Testament". He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that. "Stealing from the company again?" he joked. She smiled and said, "I got that for you." "Hey! You shouldn't give me this. This is way too nice," he said. He dragged his fingers along the grain of the cover. "Well, you always seem so sure of what paths you take," she said, "You just make your choice and you go right at it. I'm thinking this will help you decide what paths to take before you go down them." She spoke with a certain conviction, strong and confident. With his own mind clear in thought, Damon understood why she was giving this to him now. This was her shield, her distraction, the way she could usurp the uninhibited thoughts of guys moving in too strong for her. She was throwing water on the fire and obviously, as evident by her confidence, the tactic had been successful in the past. However, Damon could see right through the manoeuvre as clearly as he envisioned how he was going to play out the next few minutes with his own game plan. He was now certain of his own convictions. The knowledge that he had cracked her final wall sent a surge of anticipation through him. He opened the book and flipped through the pages, "I...don't know what to say, Clara. This really means a lot." She nodded, her eyes squinting as she smiled broadly. "Thank you," he said as he slid over to her on the couch. He reached out and gave her a hug happy to feel that she didn't resist the gesture. As they pulled back, his dark eyes met hers, a determined, calm on his face. He leaned in close to her, tilting his head. Clara's smile immediately vanished, replaced by panic. She leaned back away from him, pressing into the arm of the couch. "Uhh...here," she pulled the book away from him, put it on her lap and opened it up. She ran her fingers along some of the paragraphs and said,"There are some interesting passages in here." Damon glanced down at the book then back at the side of her face as she began to read. Her eyes were fixed on the book but he could see the thoughts racing behind them. She was so entrancing, her anxious behaviour so appealing. It amused him to think that she didn't know that everything she was doing now only served to arouse him more and more, the nudging in his pants growing, pushing higher. He gently put his left hand on top of hers. She stopped reading. "What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Just making you comfortable. Relax," he said, stroking the top of her hand gently. His right hand moved to her shoulder and tickled the hairs on her neck. "Clara..." he whispered. Reluctantly, she looked up at him. She soaked in the determination that was set upon his dark, handsome face. When he moved towards her this time, she only leaned back slightly. Clara gulped and closed her eyes. His lips met hers in a gentle, tender kiss. Her lips were so soft, with the slightest tremble tickling his mouth. Damon pulled back and smiled. She found it to be so warm and genuine, she couldn't help but also smile slightly. Damon leaned in again and she met him. Another long, lingering kiss. This time he pulled away only briefly. She blinked. He caressed the back of her neck. Then he moved in again. His lips parted this time, kissing her lower lip before enveloping her mouth in a steamy, wet lock. Clara was taken aback by the intensifying passion. She kept her mouth closed. But Damon's passion was surging, intensifying. He wanted to sample all of her tonight. He leaned in closer, pressing in harder, lolling his head and twisting and finally pushing his tongue past her lips. Clara gasped and as she did, his slick tongue delved deep into her mouth. She pushed at it with her tongue. It seemed to only drive him on. He squeezed her hand tight. "Mmmm..." she moaned in between her breaths. She listened to her own moans and the wet smacks of their lips. Her breathing grew heavier and she could hear her heartbeat melt into the walls of the basement. Damon used his tongue like a measuring stick, determining what level he had reached as he crept further along towards his ultimate goal. First he moved it in with short quick bursts along on her inner lip. Then he pressed it in further, rolling along her teeth then to the roof of her mouth. When he felt her own tongue begin to move and dance with his, revelling in its nervous and uncertain movements, it was all he could do not to pump his hand in the air. The thing was, his hands would be busy elsewhere. He let go of her hand and let his left hand drift to her exposed knee. Clara opened her eyes and looked down but didn't breakaway from their kissing. He massaged her knee, then rolled his hand to her inner leg, sliding it upward to her inner thigh, pushing her blue skirt up high. The slightest touch of her velvety thighs sent a shudder through him. She felt so tender there. For the briefest millisecond, as she felt his warm heavy hand press and stroke its way up her leg, Clara thought about letting him go as far as he wanted to explore. It felt that delicious. But then the sounds, smells, and feelings of lust and passion all came together and she suddenly did everything she could to prevent them from overwhelming her. "Mmmm-no! Wait...Damon, stop!" she said. She turned away from his kiss and pushed his hand out from under her skirt before tugging at it to pull it down. Damon leaned back on the couch. they were both breathing deeply. She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, and sat frozen blinking at the floor trying to compose herself, thinking about what had happened just seconds before, thinking about what might have happened if she had let it go on. Clipping Her Wings She handed him back the book then stood up still adjusting her skirt. Her back to him she rubbed her forehead. It was very warm. "Maybe...," she said pausing to take a deep breath, "I think we should call it a night." She finally turned to him, "I think you should go, Damon." He sat up on the edge of the couch, pressing his fingers together. He stared at her. There was no way he was leaving, not like this. The pressure in his groin did not subside. Clara knew he was waiting for something more. She shook her head, "I'm sorry. I can't do this." Damon put the book down and stood up. He sucked in air through his lips, steeling himself with a cold resolve. He watched her as she rubbed her left wrist. Reaching out slowly he took her wrist in both his hands and massaged it gently, warmly. Clara sighed. "What can't you do, Clara?" he asked with all the deliberate weight of an attorney. He could feel the goose bumps rise on the back of her hand as he asked this. She pulled her hand away from him and clutched it to her chest. She looked deep into the sharp expression on his face, the straight brow, the piercing eyes, the firm lips she had been savouring with her own just moments before. Clara looked deep and shuddered at what she saw. "Please, Damon, go," she said and turned her back to him. She was hoping she would feel him as he walked by her, towards the closet to get his jacket then out the door. Hoping she wouldn't have to look into that all too determined face of his. Hoping she could resist grabbing him by the arm and puling him back to her. Instead, she closed her eyes and lowered her head when she felt his warm body move up behind her. Damon stood there her back to him, breathing deeply, inhaling her intoxicating smell. He wanted her and he was going to have her, but he would play this out for the pure pleasure of the moment. He placed his hands on the sides of her shoulders and then kissed the back of her head. "You don't want me to go," he whispered. "Yes...yes I do," she said also in a hushed voice, "This is wrong." "What's so wrong about it?" he continued. He brushed the hair away from the side of her neck and kissed her choker. "It...I - uh - I shouldn't be doing...this," her voice wavered. She gulped and tilted her head slightly. He kissed her ear, sucking on the lobe, then whispered, "Clara..." "Uh....yes?" "You know me, right?" he said again kissing her neck, his right hand moving from her shoulder to the front of her neck. He stroked her soft choker. "Wh-what? Yes...yes, Damon." "Do you like me?" he led her on, sliding his hand down her skin to the top of the collar of her shirt. He clutched her body close. "I...like you Damon," she said her eyes closing shut and her head rolling back. His hand slipped under the collar, exploring and groping for the tender rounds of flesh hidden beneath her shirt. He thumbed the tops of her bosom while his palm cupped and delicately fondled her breasts tucked behind her bra. He could feel her chest tremble as he slid his hand under the cup of the bra, curling around the exquisite tenderness of her tit, squeezing her nipple between two fingers. Clara's mouth hung open breathing hard as her head dropped. "Do you trust me?" he said. Clara was gasping for air now, trying to think straight. Deep within her, a voice continued to scream "Get out!" But closer to the surface, where she licked her trembling lips, where her neck was being caressed by a skilled and hungry mouth, where her breasts heaved upward, straining towards the strong hand that was indulging in their supple touch, a passionate sense of abandon clouded any voice that insisted she put a stop to this. "I...," she gasped, forcing the words out, "Yes...yes, I trust you Damon." She had opened up the gate. She knew it. He pulled her close to him, her back against his chest. He pushed his crotch forward against her petite rear end, declaring his intentions for the evening. Clara gasped once more when she felt his hard cock press against her backside. "I want to fuck you Clara," he growled softly. Was she really prepared for this? Panicked, she spun around, placing her hands against his chest. His look was cool and assured. She stammered, "D-Damon, I-" "Ah, ah, ah, Clara! Shhhh," He cut her off again, kissing her passionately to silence her. He wasn't going to let her think about this. He pulled away from her lips and with an assured look whispered,"You owe me a wish, remember?" Clara nodded her head slowly and silently. Damon squinted and smiled, "So, why don't you give me an extended tour of your bedroom again?" Clara didn't move, her face was flushed red, her eyes fixed and blank. Still smiling he tilted his head and said knowingly, "Okay. Come on." Damon took her by the hand and walked towards the bedroom. The last thing she saw as she turned around to follow him was the book "Chosen Paths", her gift to him, laying on the couch. *********** Damon led her in before closing the door behind them. As far as they were concerned, the entire world was in that room at that moment. For Clara, specifically, the room seemed so very small now and the only things in it were Damon, and her bed. Damon stood by the door and leaned his head back against it. He looked at his prize, her back to him yet again as she continued to rub her wrist. To him, this room represented the achievement of a night of focused thought and clarity. Not a thought about where this might lead in the future or what sort of relationship they could have came to mind. He was here now. She was here now. He wanted her here and now. Finally he moved from the door towards the young woman who stood nervously beside her bed. Clara heard him come up behind her. She closed her eyes and her mouth moved as if whispering a prayer. For those few seconds she was by herself oblivious to him. But now he was inches away from her. She could smell him, feel his heat. She only hoped that he would be gentle with her. With a firm voice he said, "Turn around." Clara spun around slowly but smoothly on her feet. Damon had removed his sweater, his well defined chest now bare before her except for the crucifix pendant hanging from his neck. Startled by the starkness of the moment, she nearly crumpled backwards, but two strong hands grabbed her by her upper arms and pulled her up against his chest. They kissed again the sounds of wet lustful kissed drifting room. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his pectorals. He was hungrier still, his adept tongue almost latching onto hers, pulling it into his mouth so that he could give it a long languid suck. And while at the moment he could think of nothing more pleasurable than the taste of her saliva slicked tongue, he was excited to know that in moments he would be sampling just as fine if not tastier fruits. His hands were already venturing to other areas of Clara's slender body. Across her back, down to her lean, slim waistline, finally to her firm ripe bottom. He slipped his hands under her skirt to cop a fine feel of her smooth ass. Clara broke away momentarily from the kiss for a quick gasping breath. Damon just as quickly pulled his hands out from underneath her skirt. All the better to just remove it than work around it. He slowly pulled the rear zipper of the skirt down. With each new situation, Clara wanted to draw the line, to say stop, to stop this impossible moment. But even before she felt her skirt drop down her legs to the floor, she knew this couldn't be stopped. She saw it in his eyes. Damon had chosen his path for this evening. He wouldn't be stopped. His hands continued to peel off her clothing. As soon as the skirt fell they slid back up along her waist to her front, pushing up on her chest before nestling themselves along the collar of her shirt. He pushed her back, breaking the kiss. She felt his hard knuckles on her chest, as he took a firm grip of her collar. "I'm sorry, Clara," he said with a twitching smile, "I was just dreaming all day about doing this." Before she could protest he tore her shirt apart at the collar, the soft material easily shredding down the neck line clean through the bottom. Her gawking startled expression and the sight of two succulent breasts peaking out from behind her bra pushed his own arousal to new heights and suddenly he knew he wasn't certain himself how gentle he would be with her tonight. "Take off the shirt," he ordered her. Composing herself slightly, Clara slipped the tattered shirt of her shoulders and let it drop to the floor beside her skirt, all the while he gave her a long lingering look. She shuddered, watching as Damon's actions intensified, his demeanour shifting from calm and tender to primal and rough. He wagged his finger and nodded, "Let down your hair." After a moment's hesitation, she looked downward as she reached for the bun behind her head. As each pin was removed, more of her honey brown hair dropped down past her neck and fell across her face. Clara trembled and let the pins simply drop to the floor. He raised a hand and dragged it back and forth across her chest above her soft bosom. Aside from the goose bumps, she was as smooth as silk. Again they locked lips and meshed tongues. His hands continued to work, locating the clasp of her bra in the back. Clara heard a soft snap as the clasp was undone. Damon tugged the straps off her shoulders and pulled the bra off. Still holding it, he moved his mouth down to her chest. Clara now felt his lips on her unsoiled bosom, her smallish but exquisitely sloping tits stood firm for him. She tingled when she felt something wet, with a texture both slick and rough, drag around her nipple. His tongue flicked like a whip at her tips. Then his mouth sucked on them until the pinkish nipples became hard and pointed. He could taste her perfume on them. "I guess you like that Clara?" he asked looking up. "Damon..." and a swallow was all she could muster before she realized he wasn't done. His mouth moved away from slurping and enjoying the taste of her tits. It nipped and kissed at her smooth white belly which flinched at his lustful touches. He hooked her panties with his fingers and tugged them downward, sliding them over her thighs, past her knees, down her calves. He lifted each foot as he took them off and tossed them onto her dresser. Now all she wore was her choker. His right hand slipped between her legs and cupped the trim soft mound it found there. He rubbed it, pushing past the strands of hair to the velvety lips buried there. He looked up at Clara. As he massaged her pussy she stared up high on the wall, chewing her lower lip. Clara felt his rough finger push against her, run up and down her slit. She tried to steady herself on her feet, putting her hands on his shoulders. Again his mouth soon followed where his hands had been. He felt her hand on his head, pushing it away. She said, "No...Damon. Please don-ahnn!" His fingers had parted her petals making way for his tongue to have a nice lingering lick along her moist pink snatch. He felt her fingers grip tighter on his shoulders and she swayed uncontrollably on her legs. "Please, Damon..." she gasped. He had just wanted a taste of his angel though. He kissed her belly and above her snatch and around her inner thighs. He gave the triangle of hair a light kiss before standing back up. Their mouths pressed for seemingly the hundredth time. Clara was keenly aware of her nakedness. She had never been completely nude before a man before. She felt his hands kneading her butt cheeks uninhibited by any pieces of clothing now. And when he pressed up against her, she not only felt the throbbing staff in his pants pressed upon her lower belly, she could feel its heat. She could only imagine how hot it would feel...no, she knew wouldn't have to imagine much longer. just thinking of that inevitability made her head spin. He had composed himself again, breathing more steadily now that he had stripped her of her clothes and had a sample of her. He stepped back to look at her, holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Clara was just as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so now that he was looking at her with a clear mind. There was still some fear and hesitancy in her eyes but she seemed accepting of the moment. It was just the two of them now, working towards the moment. "I won't keep you waiting, then," Damon said. Clara took a deep breath as he unzipped his jeans. She watched him as he bent over to pull them off of his feet, trying to keep her eyes away from his crotch. But as he stood, she was drawn to his white briefs and the large piece tent poling the material. She slowly shook her head and looked up at him, "I...I can't..." "Shhhh," Damon said and nodded, "You can. You will." He slipped off the briefs. His dark reddish brown penis was erect and imposing, hard and hungry. Clara looked up, past the ceiling, past the stars to the heavens. Closing her eyes, she felt Damon lower her down onto her bed. The bed creaked softly as he lay down beside her. He kissed her, gently this time as his hand stroked up and down her chest and belly, a couple of times fluffing the hairs at her crotch. He rolled up in between her legs and propped them up, sliding his hand down the length of each one, enjoying their length and smoothness, before lowering himself onto her. She gasped when she felt him nuzzle the head of his penis against her slit. Her hands moved aimlessly, from her hair, to his shoulders, to his waist. She didn't know where to place them as he shifted over her. Even worse, she didn't know where to look. Her eyes darted around the room, to his face, then above her to the headboard. "Look at me, Clara," Damon said to her. Finally she fixed her gaze upon him. Damon looked long into her eyes, seeing past the confused and worried stare, their faces an inch apart. The first thing he thought about as he lay on top of her was how soft and smooth she was. He was also now bathed in her scent, never be able to wash it off of him. He placed a hand over the top of her head and spoke softly, "Okay?" Clara remembered growing up how, even in her own conservative church, there would be so many young men and women losing their virginity before they were married, submitting to their inner desires. She was only 24 now but it seemed an unimaginable feat to have stayed true to herself for so long. And the irony was at this moment, even with Damon's lustful staff ready to breach her soft, warm hole, he seemingly was giving her the option of remaining that way. Clara never felt such intensity in her heart before. It beckoned to her, telling her to ignore every other thought in her head. It told her to choose a path and to not turn back. "Yes," the impossible word escaped her lips in a dry breath. Her next breath would be an unintelligible moan. With a gentle nudge he penetrated her. The solid dome of his cock spread her lips apart. The rest of his thick, hot staff followed into her wet and warm hole. "Ahhhhhnnn," she cried out as she took in each inch slowly. She closed her eyes tight but her mouth was wide open, gasping and moaning. She felt a rough, burning pain in her groin. "Gently. Yeah," he said, his own voice beginning to tremble as he indulged in the wondrous sensations of a virgin pussy. Clara was tight and it seemed like forever as he entered her. The truth was, he was taking his time savouring the moment, the culmination of all his efforts this evening. After the first few inches, her snatch seemed to clench, the nerves in the lips drawing him in, but it was still a slow and steady penetration. She felt every inch slip in. He held her head down as she arched her back feeling his hungry cock sink in. He was thinking she might not be able to take him all in. But his face continued to move closer to hers sweat dripping from his brow as he tried to remain calm, breathing through his nose, both of them now trembling. Then he felt his crotch press up against hers. It was the sweetest feeling, his head pressing to the hilt, his entire cock wrapped inside of Clara's fine and delicate snatch. He held it there, staying fully inside of her for the moment and they kissed. Clara felt him throb inside of her, feel the surge of lustful energy with each pulse. The sensation of someone else being inside her was overwhelming. The pain was there but it was dampened by the illicit excitement that swelled within her. She kissed him, wetting her dry lips with his saliva. Then Damon started to pull out. She groaned, her hips arching and writhing beneath him. He withdrew more quickly than he had penetrated and while to him it felt like heaven, the burning pain seared through her. He was almost completely out of her when he looked down at her and said, "I'm sorry Clara." He slammed his cock into her, driving right up to her hilt in an instant. "Huhhhn!!!" Clara gasped, her eyes rolling up into her head. Damon had been gentle long enough. He had to take her now. The side of him that wanted to fuck this sweet angel hard emerged and Clara now felt its wrath as he pumped his cock in and out. "Damon! Ahhn!" she cried out as she scratched his back with her nails. There was no answer, just the guttural grunts of a man in overheated lust. He thrust his cock into her like a javelin into the sand over and over, rubbing her raw and dry. He rolled his stomach, clenched his buttocks, as he pounded into her. His strokes were long and furious. Clara felt a small rush of moisture stream from within her. She lubricated him. "Jesus Christ, Clara!" he managed to groan, delirious with excitement. He ground his hips into her stimulating more juices from her. Clara wrapped her legs clutched tight against his side. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she matched his bodies movements. "Ahn! Ahn! Ahn!" she called out with each thrust, tossing her head back against her pillow as she did so. Damon was working her to perfection. He never dreamed how good she could feel and the fact that he almost never got to this moment at all made it all the more sweeter. The demure and tender Clara always had a seemingly impenetrable wall of beliefs impervious to any advances. Now she was under him, taking every inch of him inside of her, grasping at him, calling his name in agony and in delicious ecstasy as he fucked her for her very first time. For Clara, even as she was being banged into her own bed, a scenario she would have never thought would happen when she accepted the date, she knew a time of reckoning would come, when she would have to face the decisions she made tonight. She would never forget this moment and she strongly doubted she would be able to forgive herself. And at this very moment, she didn't care. As he slid in and out, taking all he could from her, she had few thoughts in her mind other than the rapturous assault occurring on her body here and now. The passion and determination she always had admired in Damon was now focused on her and in her. Damon was dripping sweat now, their bodies sliding along the fluids emanating from one another. Both of their faces shined and glowed from the slick passion that exuded between the two of them. "Come on, Clara! Come on!" he grunted as he slipped his hand under her legs. He slowed his strokes as he pulled himself to his knees and lifted her legs straight up in the air, resting her calves on his shoulders. From the rising position he leaned forward, pressing her legs towards her face. "Uhn! Damon! Ahh!" she cried out, a new pain emerging as he folded her forward, exposing her snatch fully and allowing unimpeded thrusts from his slicked cock. "Take it Clara! Huhn! Huhn! Yeah!" he urged her on. He panted, trying to wet his dry lips and throat. Pushing up against her ass he rolled her up further. His crotch slammed into her hoisted rump, slaps from moist flesh ringing out then being lost in the basement walls. "You're so...huhn...good. Uhn...God you're so good, Clara!" Clipping Her Wings He leaned back onto his knees and dropped one of her legs. He still rested the other leg on his shoulder, her toes pointing towards the ceiling, and he held it close to his body as he continued to pump her sore. The bed creaked and rattled and banged against the wall with each of his thrusts. Damon watched her gleaming tits shake seductively in frenzied circles. She was just too perfect and her body apparently as giving as she was. With each thrust of his cock, with each unrestricted cry from her lips, he could swear she glowed brighter and brighter. Clara ran her hand across her forehead through her hair. So much to focus on but impossible to think. She tried to focus on the crucifix pendant still hanging from his neck, but it jerked and spun so much as he rocked back and forth rapidly. Even when she closed her eyes tight, the sounds were there: the rustling of the sheets, his grunts, her groans, the undulating smack-smack-smack as he slapped his piece into her. And the feeling of his cock thrusting in an and out of her was a memory that would be imprinted in her mind forever. "Huhn! Look at me Clara," he told her between gasps, "Come on! Huhn! Open those eyes." She pried her eyes open. It was still difficult to focus properly with Damon rocking her so hard on the bed. "That's it, that's good," he grunted, "Keep them open. Huhn! We're going...Huhn! We're going all the way." She had offered her body to him and he in return gave her his unbridled lust and wanton urges. Both took everything the other had. "Ah! Ah! Ah! Da-ah-mon! God! Ah! Puh-please!" She couldn't breath. The blood surged to her head and she was certain she was going to faint. Finally, unexpectedly, the incredible pressure that had been building within her burst. "Nnn-AHHH-Huhhn!" Her juices exploded from inside of her, squirting forth from her as she trembled and shuddered. She gasped and moaned as she felt wetness dribble down her thigh and slick down to her anus. Damon continued to drive into her, grinding into her fluids. But her gasp of ecstasy did him in. She was looking up at him with watery eyes when suddenly he stopped and the lines on his neck strained. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenched his ass, then grunted through his teeth, "Hurrrrnnghh!" Strands of Damon's thick white cum filled her completely. "Ahn! Huhn!" he panted as he bucked against her, shooting more into her as he did. She felt the temperature rise in her tight pussy as his liquids mingled with her own hot juices. Clara groaned. Their mingling liquids dripped out of her, leaving a small viscous pool on the bed sheets below her wet snatch. He lowered her leg and slid out of her easily leaving behind a wet sticky mess beneath her soft mound and red raw patches along her thighs and ass. He held his organ in his hand, slowly going soft but still managing to fire another jet salvo of cum against her inner thighs. No longer feeling the viscous goo slinking down her inner legs, Clara breathed unsteadily, gasping for air, trying to wet her lips. She watched his penis shrink but still seem no less daunting to her, incredulous to think that it had just been probing deep inside of her. Then she finally looked up at Damon and saw his red, damp face affix a satisfied smile on his lips. Damon lowered himself between her legs, slinking up from her belly, stopping to suckle on each of her perspiration covered breasts, kissing her velvet choker, before finally meeting her face to face. He rested on top of her. Clara slowly regained her breath, feeling the man who had taken her just seconds ago lie upon her, absorbing his warmth. Her thoughts cleared, taking in everything that had just happened. She felt the tingle in he raw thighs which had gone numb, and she felt a gentle throbbing at her moist crotch. For several minutes she listened to her body, listened as it told her how she felt. Damon lifted his head and looked at her. He rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek, wiping away a single tear streaming down. "Shhh," he said, "You were great. Shhhhh." He gazed upon his angel, stroking her blushed cheeks gently, dragging his fingers through her silky hair. He searched long and hard into her eyes, trying to find that spark. He needed to know how she felt. For a long minute, she just stared quietly at him as her breath settled. Then he saw a soft smile flutter onto her lips and a faint twinkle in her eye. When her hands slowly moved to his face and pulled it towards hers, and as she pressed her lips onto his gently, tenderly, lovingly, he had his answer. Damon claimed his angel, clipping her feathers more times throughout the long night. ************ Damon Garcia slid out of the bed. As he dressed, he could see the dust particles in the air as a thick beam of morning light broke through the window above the bed. It cast its warmth upon the bare back of the young woman sprawled out on the bed. He pulled at the blanket that had been kicked to the floor during their night together and was about to drape it across her as she slept, but he hesitated. He scanned her smooth nude body displayed before him. The sunlight licked at her back, rolled along her the curves of her butt and down her slender legs. She glowed. He grinned, thinking about the night, thinking about a morning wake up call. Instead he left the blanket on the floor. He zipped up his pants then leaned over and brushed her fine hair down across her back. He kissed his angel softly on the cheek then left the bedroom. Clara only opened her eyes when she heard him leave the apartment. Her eyes stared wearily at the simple gold crucifix left on the bed before her. She wondered where the path she had chosen would lead her.