8 comments/ 13344 views/ 0 favorites Unatit By: jeanne_d_artois ********************************** Copyright Jeanne D’Artois July 2004 The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. ************************************ Josh and I were sitting at a table outside our favourite coffee shop when we heard a woman approaching muttering loudly to herself. What she was saying was indistinguishable until she turned the corner and crossed the pavement in front of us. “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” She spoke fast, almost running the words into each other. As soon as she had said ‘revealed’, she immediately started again with ‘Beware!’. Josh and I looked at each other. The woman, ‘Fag-Ash Lil’, was well known. She had been a feature of the townscape for years. She prowled the streets from breakfast until her evening meal muttering to herself. She had been unusually distinct today. Her appearance is odd. Apart from the cigarette butt dangling from the corner of her mouth, the obvious feature was her one-sided bust. Her left breast was massive. Her right breast was either just a flapping void or had sharp angles from cigarette packets stuffed into the empty cup. Her clothes looked as if she had thrown them on. Her T-shirt was askew, her skirt drooped inches lower at the back than the front, her tights were wrinkled and bagged at the knees and the local youths knew she wore no knickers. She would haul her skirt up and scratch if she felt an itch ignoring any passers-by. She would also show her wrinkled pussy to any youths who said ‘Show us, Lil.’ and offered cigarettes as an incentive. Years ago Lil had an obsession with Amazons. How or why she got such an obsession no one knew but she decided she wanted to be one and that if she cut off her right breast she would become an Amazon. She tried surgery with a serrated bread knife. The Accident and Emergency centre had saved her life but Lil refused any attempt to try to balance her appearance. She didn’t want a right breast or the appearance of one. Her minders tried to get her to wear a prosthesis but Lil would pull it out and throw it like a discus. The minders gave up. Fag-Ash Lil was harmless. The only thing that was awkward was that she would appropriate any cigarette packets lying around. If you smoked, you dare not put a packet down on a table. If you did, Fag-Ash Lil would take the packet and stuff it up her T-shirt under her shelf. It would take a brave person to attempt to retrieve the cigarettes. Lil would swear like a trooper and fight like at tiger to defend her prize. The police sometimes asked her politely to move on if she was being a nuisance but they knew better than to arrest her. It would take four burly policemen to get her into the van, the same number to get her out. In a cell she would strip and tear her clothing to shreds. Before she could be released she had to be provided with new clothes and forcibly dressed. One policewoman found that Lil would go anywhere for a packet of cigarettes as long as it was at least half-full. Six cigarettes from a packet of ten would get Lil out of the police van. Six more in a different packet would get her to dress and leave a cell. Five wouldn’t do. Lil wouldn’t cooperate for anything less than six cigarettes from a packet of ten, or eleven from a packet of twenty. “Have you any idea what Lil is talking about, Charlotte?” Josh asked me. I shook my head. “Usually her muttering is obscene but indistinct. Today she seems to have something more specific but I don’t think even Lil knows why she says what she does. ‘The time is nigh…’? Sounds biblical to me.” Josh and I went back to discussing the script for the forthcoming amateur production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s Ruddigore at our local open-air theatre. He is the society’s stage set designer. I’m the costume provider and both of us were having difficulty. He had to find or make large pictures than would come to life as the ghosts of the former Barons of Ruddigore. I had to find matching bridesmaids’ dresses for the whole female chorus. As usual we were short of money and time. One of our supporters was a collector of militaria. Alan Smith had lent us uniforms and equipment for a wartime play we staged last year. I couldn’t see how he could help with Ruddigore but Josh rang him anyway. Josh pressed the mute button on his phone. “Parachute silk any good?” he asked me. I though for a couple of seconds. “Could be. How much of it?” Josh asked Alan then turned back to me. “Five hundred metres.” “Then yes please. How much?” Josh spoke to Alan again. “Free. Just collect it – today!” “Then let’s go!” I said excitedly. Five hundred metres would make all the bridesmaids’ dresses I needed. It would take a long time but if I made the pattern simple there willing if unskilful hands. When we arrived at Alan’s I saw just how much five hundred metres was. Alan had told us the width. The material was four metres wide. We had to cut it into sections to load into both our cars. I would have to store it. Josh’s bedsit wouldn’t cope. My three-bedroom house was already filling up with part-made costumes but I thought I could fit the parachute silk into the spare bedroom… We did. It was a struggle. Josh cut off a piece two metres long. He wanted to see the effect if light was shone through it. Could it be the solution for his magical pictures? I was disappointed when Josh left. I had hoped that he might make an advance, ask me out perhaps? He only suggested that we should meet back at the coffee shop tomorrow morning. The next day I arrived too early. I suppose I was too eager. I mustn’t push myself on Josh. He had been single for only a few months after his divorce. His wife had found herself a toy boy. I thought she was mad to give up Josh. Their house had been sold; she had left the area and Josh was hunting for a small house for himself. He could share mine… Just before Josh arrived I saw Fag-Ash Lil again. She drifted past in her own world. She was still muttering. “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” I was aware of her but only as part of the daily scene. When Josh arrived he was excited about the parachute silk. He had prepared some with aircraft dope and painted a design on it. With a light behind it seemed opaque and a solid picture. When the light was turned off the picture vanished. He had solved his problem. What about mine? We were just starting to discuss bridesmaids’ dresses when Lil passed again. “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” This time Lil’s voice was louder and the words were distinct. Heads turned as she drifted along the street. Her shelf seemed hard and rigid contrasting sharply with her vague body movements. Josh shook his head. “She’s losing it. Eventually she’ll have to be put away.” “Surely not,” I replied. “She’s harmless.” “Not if you smoke. Do you know the warden found three thousand cigarette packets in Lil’s room?” “Three thousand!” “Yes. She only smokes four or five a day. She puts them out with her fingers…” “Ow!” I exclaimed. “Ow! Indeed, and then just leaves the end hanging from the corner of her mouth. Is it a weird fashion statement?” I didn’t answer. We resumed discussion of bridesmaids’ dresses. I managed to persuade Josh to come home with me for lunch and a trial dressmaking session. Success. Josh on his own. The lunch we brought with us from the local Chinese takeaway and we washed it down with gallons of lager. Actually Josh drank most of the lager. I had about a half-pint. He had several pints but as he had paid for the drink I didn’t object. I thought it might relax his inhibitions and I could move in on him. It did but also made him need the bathroom frequently. About two hours after we eaten he was still drunk but I thought his bladder must be empty. We had cut a piece of the parachute silk that was two metres by three metres. We had wrapped and pinned it around me in a variety of ways. Several times I had been left poised like a tailor’s dummy while Josh rushed for the bathroom and each time I felt ridiculous. Apart from the embarrassment it wasn’t really helping me to visualise a bridesmaids’ costume. Looking in a mirror wasn’t enough. Josh’s efforts with my digital camera had been useless because he couldn’t aim it in the right direction while he pressed the shutter. I was becoming irritated. Josh was obviously drunk but he hadn’t attempted even a kiss. He was useless as a helper. I snapped. “Josh! This isn’t working. I can’t see the effect when I’m the model. I’ll have to use you as the dummy.” I nearly said ‘It’s all you’re fit for’ but I bit my tongue. “OK,” He nearly slurred ‘OK’. How can you slur that? “Right,” I said. “Strip to your waist… please.” The ‘please’ was grudging. I was still irritated. My irritation vanished like morning mist in a rising sun as he pulled off his shirt to show a very acceptable torso. He wasn’t muscled like a body builder. He wasn’t flabby. He was just firm and taut like a trained athlete. I never would have suspected that he had such a touchable body. He had said ‘OK’ so I could touch it. I intended to. I cut a metre wide length and a slit for a neck hole before throwing it over Josh’s head. At three metres width it fell to his ankles. I pinned it at the sides before tacking it roughly in place under his armpits to his waist. As I tacked my hands and fingers wandered around his chest. Once I had finished there was a large overlap on each side of his torso. His trousers and belt distorted the lay of the cloth, as I knew it would. I asked if he could drop his trousers and step out of them. I waited, my heart in my mouth, to see if he would. He dropped his trousers and kicked them aside without a word. I could see his blue boxer shorts through the material. I gathered around the waist before roughly sewing the sides of the skirt together. I hugged his legs and saw the effect tenting his boxers. The mass of material around his ankles was difficult to sew straight while kneeling. I paused, pins in my mouth, and looked. If he could be higher… I took the pins out. “Could you stand on the stool for a second or two, Josh? I need to see how the seam goes.” “If that’s want you want, Charlotte.” He bundled up the cloth and hopped on to the stool. He swayed a little at first but settled down as I finished the seam. I stood back then walked around him. The overlap around his torso looked wrong but I was beginning to get the idea of a costume. If there was a hooped petticoat under the skirt and something around the waist… The overlap on the bodice would make simple sleeves. I had an evil thought. “Josh,” “Yes, Lot,” “I want sleeves but I don’t want to cut them yet. Do you mind if I see if there’s enough material?” “How will you do that?” “Just pin and tack the surplus up there around your arms. That way I’ll see if I have enough spare to make the sleeves. It will be a bit awkward for you for a minute or two. Is that OK?” He nodded. “Step down, please.” He lifted the full skirt and stepped from the stool to the floor. I saw that he had nice legs as well as a great torso. I pulled one arm to his side and pinned it before tacking the seams together tightly. His hand was lost inside the material as I sewed the lower part to the skirt. I repeated on the other side. His arms and hands were as trapped as if I’d tied him up. “Thank you, Josh,” I said. Then I kissed him. I didn’t peck gratefully on his cheek. I kissed him full on the lips. His eyes sprang wide open. I withdrew as if ‘thanks’ was all I meant. I walked around him taking pictures with the digital camera. He blushed. “Don’t show those to anyone, please, Charlotte,” he pleaded. “I won’t. As long as you are good.” I replied. “Good? What do you mean? I’m being helpful, aren’t I?” “Yes Josh, but ‘good’ depends…” “On what?” I kissed him again. This time I didn’t withdraw. I waited for a response. He tried to move his hands. I could feel them floundering about in their swathing. He relaxed and returned the kiss. I pressed harder, my tongue seeking his. His tongue retreated and I followed, pressing my advantage. When we broke he said: “This isn’t fair, Lot. I want to hold you and you’ve made sure I can’t.” “You want to hold me…” “Yes.” I took my stitch ripper and had his arms free in seconds. They closed around me and hugged tight. We kissed again, and again. I could feel my taut nipples digging into his chest despite my bra, T-shirt and the parachute silk. His erection pushed back. Ten minutes later we were in my bedroom. The dressmaking had been abandoned. At first I was in bra and panties, he wore his boxers. That lasted about thirty seconds once we were on the bed. We made love all afternoon, as if we were learning for the first time. I don’t know whether it was the alcohol or my kissing that breached his reserve. Whichever it was, there were no barriers left for either of us. Josh rode me. I rode him. I used my tongue. He used his tongue, all over me before moving in on my pussy and making me scream and squeal as he teased and tongued. When I could stand no more I grabbed his head and pulled him hard between my legs. Afterwards his cheeks were marked and reddened by the pressure of my thighs. We lay on the bed satiated. Josh roused himself sufficiently to find my kitchen and make coffee. We sat naked side by side, our legs touching, and an arm around each waist. We knew we were no longer just friends. We had discovered much more. The next few days we were inseparable. We didn’t notice how blatant we were. Our friends did. Eventually their amusement penetrated our rosy mist and we accepted their congratulations. Josh and I started work, together, on his pictures and my dresses. We distracted each other frequently and adjourned for an hour or two’s bedroom play. We had to stop when it became obvious that there was no way I was going to complete the costumes on my own. Once help arrived Josh and I had to be more discreet and wait until everyone else had gone. Josh visited his bedsit just for more clothes. He had stopped house hunting yet neither of us had actually voiced anything about the future. We were enjoying the present too much. The day of the dress rehearsal arrived. The costumes had been collected, the remains of the sewing tidied away and my house looked almost normal except for Josh’s things in my bedroom and bathroom. We went out to the coffee shop to celebrate. Our roles in this production were nearly done. All we would be needed for now would be any repairs or adjustments. We would watch the dress rehearsal carefully from the public seating area. As we sat with our coffee Fag-Ash Lil passed again, still muttering. “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” “Charlotte,” Josh said, “Do you think she knows what she is saying? Has it got any meaning?” “The answer to both questions is ‘I doubt it’” I replied. “It is much better than her usual obscenities but has just as little meaning. A woman who can cut off her own breast is beyond logic.” “You are probably right…” “Probably! You know I’m right.” We didn’t push it. We had come close to our first argument over Fag-Ash Lil. We moved on to other subjects. The dress rehearsal was a success. Josh’s pictures worked beautifully. Once the back lighting was dimmed the actors could push the painted parachute silk aside and appear ‘in the flesh’. My bridesmaids’ costumes behaved well. The dancing made the full skirts twirl, showing legs to the knee. The creamy white material looked appropriate but we had found that it was translucent in the stage lights. The chorus had to wear white underwear. Anything else showed through. The first night of the three performances was reasonable. The audience were reserved and applauded politely. Our first nights were always overloaded with the great and good of the community – a load of stuffed shirts. The second night was better. The audience was enthusiastic and it affected the performers. They were much more relaxed. The singing was bolder; the dancing more energetic; the repartee sparkled and the whole was entertaining. I had a couple of running repairs to do to the dresses during the interval but nothing serious. I was told that Fag-Ash Lil had drifted past outside. It was further away from the town centre than her usual haunt. She was still muttering: “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” The last night was threatened by bad weather. The audience came prepared with umbrellas and plastic mackintoshes. The cast had no protection at all. The rain held off until a few spots fell during the interval. Fag-Ash Lil entertained the queue for the bar. Some one, probably a teenager, had given her a purple light stick. Lil had curled it up and stuffed it in her right bra cup. It flashed on and off as Lil intoned repeatedly: “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” Josh had found the explanation for Lil’s chant. One of the local Clothes shops, Bee Wear, was having a sale of end of line products. They had the bright idea of getting Fag-Ash Lil to publicise the sale. The manager had bribed Lil with the promise of a packet of cigarettes a day to say: “Bee Wear. The time is nigh when all end-of-lines shall be reduced.” And then she should change the message when the sale started. If the manager had asked Lil to say ‘Bee Wear is having a sale’ she might have been able to cope but the message was too complicated for her addled brain. Lil joined the audience after the interval. She sat at the back muttering softly to herself as if she were a Greek Chorus: “Beware! The time is nigh when all ends shall be revealed.” The rain was close during the final act but it started to rain hard just before the finale. The chorus came on as the rain became very heavy. The parachute silk dresses were soon soaked and clung to the women’s bodies as they danced. The rain beat down and the material changed from translucent to transparent. Lil stood up in the back row, her right tit flashing purple, as the final chord died away. She shouted: “Beware! The time has come. All ends are revealed.” She was right. The ladies chorus was revealed in their white skimpy underwear. The audience gave them a standing ovation not just for their performance but for the display of under-dressed bodies. Josh and I fled before the chorus found us. We retreated to his bed-sit until the ladies could calm down. When we were married I didn’t use parachute silk for the bridesmaids. Unattainable Beauty Tanya was an amazing dancer. Sean, sitting in the audience, didn't know anything about dance, of course. But he knew that when Tanya was on stage he couldn't stop watching her. She seemed to have total control over her body, often bending and stretching into impossibly graceful poses and lines that were simply breathtaking. Sean was mesmerized. Of course, it helped that Tanya was very beautiful. Sean thought she must be Latina, with that beautiful mocha-colored skin that always looks smooth, and those strikingly large brown eyes. And an amazing dancer's body—taut and muscled, but still tantalizingly feminine. Unattainable beauty, Sean thought. The kind of beauty that he knew was beyond the reach of an average guy like him. Waiting for the show to begin, Sean mused that he was not the type of guy who normally goes to a dance show. But Sean's cousin Jeff was seeing a girl who dances with Tanya, so Sean tagged along. Sean had seen her dance at a previous show and had actually met Tanya a few times, through Jeff and his girlfriend. It's not like Sean really knew Tanya, but they'd been introduced once and had been around each other on occasion. And here's what really killed him. Despite that unattainable beauty, she had the sweetest personality. Totally down to earth. Shy, even, as far as Sean could tell. When she was alone she could almost blend into the background. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration. Pretty girls can never really blend in. But she was a bit of a wallflower who sometimes seemed to stand on the sidelines, hesitant to approach a group. But as soon as she got near friends, her face lit up with a gorgeous smile, and those big brown eyes seemed to glimmer—no social awkwardness here. She had made eye contact with Sean that first time we met, and Sean's knees actually got a little shaky! So, when Jeff asked Sean to go to see his girlfriend's dance show, Sean agreed to go, knowing that Tanya would be performing. While the crowd milled around looking for seats, Sean looked at the flower he held in his right hand. He rolled the stem between his fingers. What was it? A red carnation, maybe? Not a rose, but Sean didn't know anything about flowers. As he watched the flower spin in his grip, Sean wondered why he had bought it. In the lobby before the show they were selling flowers and Sean just drifted over to the table and bought one, almost without thinking about it. "It's for your girlfriend," Sean lied, when Jeff asked why he had bought it. "You should get her one, too. I think that's what you're supposed to do at a dance show." Sean nodded to the parents and friends buying flowers for the dancers. In truth, Sean didn't know why he bought it. He wanted to give it to Tanya, but he doubted he had the courage. Halfway through the second song of the show, Sean knew there was no way he could talk to Tanya, let alone give her the flower. She was the star of the show and even though there were a bunch of girls (and a few guys) with her, she completely stood out—Sean barely even noticed the people around her. Judging by the cheers, there would be a lot of people talking to her after the show, and he was too shy to approach her like that. Still, Sean just got lost watching her dance. When the song ended and the lights went out he just sort of sat there staring for a few seconds, then shook his head as if he'd just woken up. He turned on his cell phone and used the glow to look at the program—Tanya was in 4 more dances. As the show continued Sean just sat there counting down the songs until her next number. The whole night, it was the same thing over and over. Sean sat there fidgeting until her song came up, and then he would just lean back and let Tanya sweep him along with her, almost in a trance. When she finished, it was like getting jolted back to reality, and Sean had to remind himself to applaud so he didn't look like he'd fallen asleep. But Tanya's last performance was different. She had a dance by herself. The dance—and the performer—was the most beautiful thing Sean had ever seen! It was a slow, sad song, and Tanya poured herself into it. At one point Sean thought she might actually cry, and that actually caused Sean's eyes to well up a little. It was pretty embarrassing, and it snapped him back to reality for a moment, but Sean realized it was so dark in the auditorium that nobody could see him anyway. But the moment was lost and the song ended, and Sean kicked myself for being so sentimental and stupid. How could she have that kind of power over him? After the show, all of the dancers came out to see their friends and family. Sean slipped away from his cousin and moved through the crowd a little. He saw Tanya come out and get hugs from several people. Two were probably her mother and sister (same beautiful skin and gorgeous eyes) but Sean didn't recognize any of the others. He had been hoping to see someone he knew so he'd have an excuse to be near her. No such luck. "Nice flower, dumbass." It was Jeff. "Still haven't decided which guy you'll give it to?" Jeff gave Sean a playful little punch on the arm. Sean blushed. He looked from Jeff to the flower he was holding loosely in his right hand, then back to Tanya. She was stepping away from most of her crowd of admirers to talk to one of the other dancers. Now or never! "Be right back." Sean said, walking toward Tanya, who was facing away from him and talking to the other dancer. "Excuse me, Tanya?" She turned around and Sean knew he had made two mistakes. First, that stupid flower. Tanya was holding a HUGE bouquet and two smaller ones. What on earth was she going to do with one wilting little flower? His second mistake was looking in her eyes. Those big brown pools swallowed him up and he was struck mute. "Yes?" Tanya asked, eyebrows raised. Not angry, but definitely surprised! And probably wondering when he was going to say something. Standing there silently and looking—he could only assume—like a total idiot, Sean racked his brain for something to say, anything to say, to try and salvage his dignity. He stuck out his right hand, holding the flower. "The show was good." What? The show was good? That's the best you can come up with? The corners of her mouth tuned up a bit in the faintest hint of a smile, but she didn't really react in any other way. Blushing furiously and looking down to avoid those dangerous eyes of hers, Sean turned and walked away. What on earth was I thinking? I'll never even be able to be around her now without being completely humiliated! "Wait! Sean, right?" Tanya called out. Sean turned to see her walking toward him, smiling completely now. "Thanks for the flower. You're not leaving yet, are you?" * * * * * * * * The next couple of hours were a blur. Late dinner with a few of the other dancers and their boyfriends? Sure! A ride home? No problem. Suddenly, Sean was at the door of Tanya's apartment wondering what the hell he should do now. The evening had gone too well—that has to be good enough for a kiss, right? But Sean was terrified. What if I push it too far and she gets mad? I'll never get another chance with a girl like her! Again, her eyes caught him. But this time her gaze had a different effect. Sean stopped thinking, stopped worrying about what to do, and just leaned in to kiss her. Tanya tilted her head to the side a little and closed her eyes. Sean smiled—does she know the power those eyes have over me? he thought. He closed his own eyes and their lips made contact. Tentative at first, just brushing together; then they both found their confidence. They began kissing in earnest now, and Tanya slipped her arms around his waist. After a moment, they broke off their kiss, but Sean stayed close and leaned his forehead lightly against hers, suddenly unafraid to look her straight in the eyes—in fact, searching for her eyes. This time, she was the one who faltered. She blushed a little, then smiled nervously. "Do you want to come inside?" Her question was barely a whisper. Sean didn't even answer, he just placed his hands on her waist and gently turned her around to face the door. As Tanya fumbled with her keys, Sean pressed himself lightly against her ass and his lips nibbled at the exposed skin just below her left ear. Tanya gasped a little, then managed to get the door open. Sean was all confidence now, with no trace of the tentative boy that barely managed to hand her a flower. He placed his right hand on her ass and nudged her forward through the door, closing it behind him. "Wait!" Tanya suddenly burst out, and Sean's confidence evaporated as quickly as it had materialized. I knew it! I came on too strong! You can't push a girl like her too fast! "I was dancing all night, and sweating like crazy. Okay if I jump in the shower?" She was in control again, a sparkle in her eyes revealing that she was going to tease Sean a little before he could claim his prize. "Sure. I'll just hang out here on the couch." "I promise I'll be quick. I just need to get out of these clothes and cool this body off!" At this, Sean smiled a little. Okay, you've got me. But that one was a little cheesy. I don't think you're much better at any of this than I am... She twirled around and walked toward the bathroom with a little sway in her hips that hadn't been there all night and Sean couldn't help but stare at her ass. You may not be much better, but you're learning fast! She looked back over her shoulder with a sweet little smile before she closed the bathroom door. In truth, Sean was relieved to have a few minutes to regroup. He'd been uncomfortably hard all night, and he tried to think of something other than Tanya's tight ass, tried to think of something other than the lump in his pants. He took a few deep breaths and the pressure eased a little. He flopped down on the couch to wait. Through the bathroom door the shower was running, and now he could hear splashing sounds. It was just the sound of water, but Sean's mind began filling in the details. She was just on the other side of that door, completely naked. In his mind, Sean could see her hands running over her body, first lathering up with soap and then rinsing away a night of hard work. Hopefully she'll need another shower in a few hours. At this thought, his softening cock twitched a little. Again he pictured her hands slipping over her mocha skin. They lingered a little at her breasts, rubbing just an instant too long at their rosy tips, causing her nipples to harden. The sound of the water suddenly stopped and Sean snapped out of it, realizing that his dick was once again straining against his jeans. So much for calming down a little before the fun starts! He knew that she would be toweling off, and doing whatever other mysterious rites females go through immediately after a shower. But Sean's body was ready to go. Maybe I'm learning how to play this game a little, too. He strode quietly over to the bathroom door and gently tested the doorknob. Ha! She hadn't even locked the door! He slowly twisted and pushed on the door. Tanya stood in front of a mirror, a large purple towel wrapped around her body. It was a little too small, and barely managed to slip past her waist. Tanya was surprised to see him standing there, but clearly not disappointed. She made no move to cover herself, and she smiled faintly. Sean desperately wanted to take her right there, right now. Just lean her forward over the sink and fuck her. Next time you leave that door unlocked, that's exactly what I'll do, he thought. But tonight would be different, so he held out his hand and she took it. He led her to the bedroom without a word. He stripped off his shirt and jeans, and Tanya just watched. Sean was nervous, but Tanya's eyes betrayed her own nerves and made him feel comfortable. For all your teasing, you're just as nervous as me. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and Tanya reached for the knot holding her towel in place. In unison, they dropped the last of their clothes. Sean nodded for Tanya to sit on the bed and when she did, he gently leaned her back until she way lying flat, and he knelt between her legs. He tried to teasingly kiss his way up her thighs, but he lacked the willpower to go slowly. Instead, he pressed his lips gently against her and she sighed just a little. He gave a gentle kiss and then began to probe softly with his tongue, increasing the tempo a little at a time until his tongue was making quick flicks against her mound. He reached up with his right hand—the same right hand that had dumbly handed her a flower just a few hours ago—and spread her lips. His tongue found her clit and pressed against it. Now Tanya moaned loudly, and Sean responded enthusiastically. He pressed tightly against her and tugged at her clit with his lips. "Ohh!" This time she cried out, and Sean began working intently on her button. He shifted his hand and pressed his middle finger against her opening, wiggling it a little until he was able to penetrate. You're wet, he thought. And ready! But he continued to work on her as her gasps grew louder and she began to move, first writhing a little, then rocking her hips. Sean felt something on the back of his head and jolted a little, startled. Then he smiled and resumed his work. She had slipped one hand around his head to pull him closer. Sean realized she was guiding him a little, nudging his head to get the pressure she needed. He looked up to see her other hand at her breast, finger and thumb pulling at the nipple. He knew he found the spot when her hand clenched tightly against the back of his head. He focused on repeating that same motion, a stabbing push just below her clit, then a sharp flick of the tongue upwards. She shuddered and her gasps quieted for a moment, then she spasmed strongly a few times before going limp and breathing heavily. "Sean," she murmured. "Now." Sean stood up. Tanya was still lying on the edge of the bed and she was at just the right height. He positioned his cock at her entrance and slowly sank in. Her pussy tightened forcefully on him and she squealed a little, so he pulled back and made several smaller thrusts, penetrating a little deeper with each push until he was all the way in. Their eyes met and Sean leaned down and kissed her passionately, first probing her mouth a little with his tongue, then tugging gently at her bottom lip in the same way he'd tugged at her clit moments before. He began thrusting forward and back, and she soon found his rhythm and pushed back against him. Each time he pressed into her, his cock throbbed, seeking to feel every inch of her, and reveling in the warm wetness. Sean desperately wanted this to last forever, but the scene before him was simply too much. Tanya lay sprawled on the bed, her taut dancer's legs wide apart with toes pointed, and he could see his manhood penetrating her. With each thrust, her breasts jiggled and bounced a little, the pink nipples begging to be touched. Sean accepted the invitation, first squeezing her nipples lightly. This earned him a nice moan from Tanya. Then he rubbed her nipples with his thumbs, which elicited a loudly whispered, "Yes!" Finally, he took each bud between thumb and forefinger and pinched. At this, Tanya's legs clenched tightly around Sean's waist, and he knew it was over. He felt his climax coming but couldn't stop it. Tanya's legs were pulling at him, encouraging him to pound her faster and faster. He pushed in hard and though he didn't want to grunt like some wild animal, the force of his orgasm was too strong, and he groaned as quietly as he could. He let go of Tanya's nipples and grabbed her hips, pulling himself in as deep as possible as he came. As his cock jerked a few last times, Sean smiled down at Tanya. They were both breathing heavily. Tanya's body glistened with sweat. I guess you are going to need another shower, he thought. "You're staying the rest of the weekend, right Sean?" But Sean didn't even hear her question. He was trapped in those gorgeous brown eyes.