0 comments/  90324 views/  4 favorites

Contrast

By: snodawg



You set there at the table amongst friends, enjoying the laid-back atmosphere of yet another party. Mellow music is flowing throughout the house, along with good wine and liquors. This night seems no different than any other Friday night you have spent in this same house, sitting in this same chair, with the very same friends. As the clock winds forward, however, you soon find out that this night will be like no other.

Half-heartedly, you laugh at your friends joke, holding your glass of bourbon close to your mouth. Your eyes scan your all too familiar surroundings. They fall upon the front entrance, as the door is being pushed opened.

Neither your eyes nor your heart were prepared for the vision of perfection that crossed that threshold. Your breath is caught in your throat. You stand there as though frozen by a magic spell, as though you fear any movement would cause her to magically disappear.

Your mouth feels dry. Finally aware of the glass in your hand, still hovering close to your mouth, you take in all the liquid it contains. You wince at the burning sensation caused by the bourbon. You look back to the door, only to find your Princess gone. Your eyes search through the crowd of familiar faces until, finally, they fall upon the one that your minds eye had memorized.

You watch with complete admiration as this great beauty is led by the party's gracious hostess to mingle with surrounding partygoers. You watch as she shucks the full-length overcoat off her shoulders. Revealing to you even more of her beauty. You drink her in slowly, with purpose, more importantly with desire.

Her mere presence has grabbed the attention of nearly everyone in the room. But it was far more than the contrast of her creamy milk-like skin against your naturally darkened flesh that held on to you with a vice-like grip. You were certain that this angelic creature was your very own personal gift from the heavens above. There was something in her aura that told you this woman...this beautiful white woman was created just for you.

Your eyes search over her body countless times, always beginning with her golden silk-like locks. Even from across the room you could enjoy the piercing blue of her round eyes. You licked your own, as your gaze stops at her pouty mouth. Her ruby lips are so full, you allow yourself to imagine their softness, their warmth. Her neck, so long and slim, seems to be beckoning you to come taste its soft sweet smelling flesh.

Her light colored blouse allows you the pleasure of seeing the dark caps of her full braless breasts, causing an all too familiar stirring inside your pants. A low deep groan escapes through your lips. As the two women move in your direction you enjoy the sight of her long shapely legs moving toward you. Her skirt is just short enough to cause the stirring in your loin to become an intense arousal. The strappy high heels on her feet showed off her red tipped toes to perfection. The thought of sucking her perfect toes causes your arousal to grow. You feel it twitch and throb as the women find their way to you.

You change your stance, hoping to cover your obvious desire. No matter how you stand, however, nothing hides the oversized erection contained by the fabric of your pants.

The hostess starts the introduction and you reach out your hand to meet hers. Feeling the warm, soft, moist, skin of her palm causes your throbbing erection to lunge forward. You see her eyes shift to find the movement. Your smooth dark skin hides your embarrassment. Your eyes meet hers once again. The look of desire on her face surprises you. You look deep into her beautiful eyes to make certain you are not mistaken. She raises one eyebrow and slightly licks her lips. Yes, desire was certainly the look her face held.

The two women turn and walk away, giving you the pleasure of watching her round, shapely ass swaying from side to side. This causes your arousal to grow to a state almost painful. Your engorged erection aches, twitches, throbs...begging to be released from its confinement.

Unable to stand the sweet torture any longer, you make your way up the stairs to the bathroom. You silently curse when you try to open the locked door. You look around you; luckily, no one else seems to around. You spot an open door and quickly head for it. Shutting it quietly, you slowly turn the lock. It will only spin in your fingers, unable to lock. For the second time you silently curse. As the visions of the beauty down the stairs fill your head, you decide to take the chance of being caught. The need for relief is just too overwhelming.

You reach down and turn off the lamp on the bedside table. Feverishly, you unzip your pants, and fish out your aching cock. Being released from the heat and the tight quarters of your pants is a relief all it's own, for the dark hard flesh you hold in your hand loosely. You take in a deep breath, before you slowly move your hand up and down the long, thickness of your manhood. 

Your grip is loose to begin with, but as your pace quickens, you tighten your grasp around the hard, veiny tube of muscle. You let out a deep animalistic growl. You want the release to be quick, but your body seems to be fighting against your efforts. You close your eyes tightly, trying to concentrate on nothing but the release your body needs so badly. Your arm begins to ache from the frantic movement. Your breathing is erratic. You grunt. "Damn it," you growl through clinched teeth.

Frustrated and tired, you give up. You reach up and rub your aching arm. You throw your head back, and look up at the ceiling. A shadow, moving quickly catches your eye, but you see no one in the darkness with you. 

You jump at the sound of the voice in the room with you. You do not hear one word she says, but you are certain of who it is. You look around trying to find her. The room is too dark. Suddenly you feel her breath on your neck. You freeze, you can't breathe. 

"You look like you need some help with that," she says, but you don't hear. The blood rushing from your head is just too loud. 

"Wha?" you try to ask. You understand when you feel her arm reach around your waist. You moan as you feel the soft warm touch of her hand on your hardness. 

"I asked if you could use some help," she says. "I feel obligated," she whispered. 

You clear your throat. "You should," you manage to say.

Her hand starts to move slowly, stroking you. "Oh, and why is that?" she says softly in your ear.

"Because you did this," you tell her, making yourself twitch in her hand. 

"How did I do this?" she asks you, tightening her grasp around your hardness.

"Mmmmmm," is all you can manage, as this sexy creature strokes your erection. It feels as though the room in spinning. You are drunk with passion and desire.

You try to turn around and face her, but she won't let you. So you reach around your bodies and grab her, pulling her closer to you. Your hands kneed her firm, round ass. It's her turn to let out a moan, right into your ear. The sensual groan sends shock waves through you. You have to touch her, taste her, now.

You reach and hold onto to her hand, taking it in yours, before you turn around. Your bodies crash together with desire. Her hands wrap around your neck, pulling your face closer to hers. You grind your hardness into her as your lips touch hers. Her lips were even more wonderful than you had imagined. You lick your tongue across them, tasting their sweetness. She parts them, giving you more of her to taste and explore. Entering her mouth, your tongue finds hers. Your hands move up her waist, and slides over her full breast. You try to contain your hunger; gently you massage her ample mound of flesh. She groans into your mouth, as you take her hard nipple between thumb and finger, rolling it, pinching it.

You somehow tear your lips from hers, kissing your way down her chin to her neck. You taste her creamy skin; her scent drives you mad with desire. You feel her hands on the back of your head; gently she pushed, urging you on. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of her blouse. With her help, the garment finds its way to the floor, uncovering two perfect mounds of firm, succulent flesh. You waste no time devouring one of them. Her hand holds on to your head, while moans of pure pleasure escape her mouth. Greedily, you explore each breast as though it was your first.

Her hands leave your head, and you hear the zipper of her skirt ripping down. You step back enough to watch the fabric fall into a puddle around her feet. You reach and turn on the lamp. The sight of her near naked body was almost more than you could take.

"My God," you whisper into the air. You know that you have never seen anyone, anything as beautifully sexy as this woman standing before you. Her lacy panties clung to her, allowing you to see the plump mound between her legs. Her thumbs hook the side of her sexy panties. She peels them over her curvy hips and ass, down her legs and off of her feet. With her sexy high heels still on she climbs on the bed. Falling onto her back, she spreads her legs, opening herself with her fingers. The sight makes your mouth water.

You quickly tear off your clothes, never taking your eyes off of the all too sexy temptress lying before you. You climb on the bed between her opened legs. Hovering over her, you kiss her again, deeply. Your desire to taste all of her consumes you, and you make your way down her luscious body. You stop only long enough to give your attention to her perfect breast once more. You kiss your way down her flat stomach with passion. Finally you reach the object of your desire. You breathe in the sweetness of your arousal, before you bury your tongue into her folds. You feel her body shudder as your tongue flicks over her swollen bud.

You gently suck it in your mouth. You feel it throb, swelling more. Her peaches sweet juice flows onto your chin; you lick it, sliding your tongue deep inside her. 

You barely hear her, "Lay down for me, please," she whispers. You reluctantly lie down beside her, and watch her. She wastes no time, and you watch as she licks the length of your hard shaft. You can't stop looking at her; it is the most erotic thing you'd ever seen. Her mouth stretches over your thick, rock hard rod. You feel it slide down her throat. Your entire body tightens.

She stops her oral pleasure only long enough to turn herself around. Her legs straddle your head, and you watch as she lowers her ass, offering you another taste of her sweetness. You accept with pleasure. Your tongue makes love to her, as she does the same to you with her entire mouth. Her talents are amazing, causing sensations you have never known. Suddenly she stops and you feel her body stiffen. She grinds her body on your tongue you suck her bud harder. You can feel her body erupting. Her sweet nectar covers your face. You drink it as though it was a fine wine, savoring it until there is no more.

Her body recovers, and you watch as she slides her body down, over your chest and stomach. She leaves a trail of her wetness across your body. With her back facing you she hovers over your body, holding your erection up. You watch in awe as she lowers herself down onto it. You are wrapped inside her warm wetness it grips you tightly. Her thrusts are slow gently she rises and falls. You are in heaven. You watch your dark rod slide in and out of her pink opening. The sight alone was enough to make you lose control. You can stand it no more. You have to be deep inside her, as deep as you go. You raise your body, holding on to her. Sitting up, you gently lay her down on her stomach; she pushes her knees under her. You look at her beautiful ass sticking up toward you it seems to beg you. Your big hands grab her soft cheeks, spreading them.

"That's beautiful baby," you tell her.

"Mmmm," she moans, "Please," she begs you.

"Please what baby?" you ask her; you want to hear her tell you what she want.

"Inside me baby, please, I want you inside me," she pleads. She doesn't have to ask twice. You enter her with passion with purpose. She seems to have been made just for you. You can feel every nook. Her walls grip you tightly. You quicken your pace. Your bodies slap together loudly. She reaches and rubs her aroused bud while you pound your thick wand inside her. Once again you feel her body on the brink of explosion. Her walls tighten around you, bringing you over the edge with her. Your body tightens as you feel her orgasm spill from deep inside her. She continues to ride it out, causing a wave of pure pleasure. You thrust yourself deeply, and fill her with your own orgasmic juices. Spent, you both fall onto the bed in a pile. Your bodies glisten with sweat. You lie there and look at the beautiful contrast of black and white.

Contrast



Author's note ---- This is my first attempt in "Loving Wives" category, hope you all like it. Feedbacks and comments are welcome. 

*-*-*

"He's got an evil eye." Linda stated to Marc flatly, after she broached the topic during dinnertime.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He enquired, though he could make quite an accurate guess on the source of his wife's uneasiness. The man next door was in the latter part of middle age, and worked in some kind of advertising concern in town. There was something shifty and foot-loose about this Jason character, and knowing that the man was divorced twice over and now lived alone next to them didn't help this impression. Marc and Linda had been married for two and half years, he was very possessive and protective of her.

"What it means is that he practically undresses me with his eyes every time he passes me in the passage."

Marc knew that he could do little about the man for doing nothing more than ogling his wife ---- that certainly wasn't a heinous crime that he could punish him for. However, he promised himself not to let his caution down at any time. His faith in his wife's honesty was total, but he was away at work for most of the day, and the thought of this rat of a man living next door to them while Linda was at home was not a pleasant one.

In the apartment directly opposite Marc and Linda's, a similar discussion was going on — Only on more heated lines. 

Roger was barely in control of his anger as he confronts his wife for what must have been the tenth time now on this issue.

"What are you accusing me of, anyway?" Asked Giselle, her cheeks ablaze with self-righteous anger 

Her husband snorted, "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm simply stating a fact you were seen leaving that man's apartment yesterday, and the entire building knows it. You have not answered my question — what were you doing there while I was in the office?" asked Roger staring at his wife across the dinner table. There was a long and awkward silence, and then Giselle finally spoke again.

"He's a lonely man, and all I did was make him a cup of coffee and chat with him for a while," she said defensively.

"After living three years in this apartment, you still haven't figured out the reputation that Jason has? He's an inveterate womanizer, and women like you are easy prey for him," yelled Roger his control over his temper fraying at the edges now. 

"What do you mean, women like me?" screamed his wife. And so on it went. Such confrontations on the same issue took place as regularly as the chimes of wall-clock. 

*-*-* "Are you sure your husband hasn't smelled a rat by now?" asked Jason apprehensively as he let Giselle into his apartment. The time was three in the afternoon, and Roger wasn't due back for another three and a half hours. Roger was only in his jeans; Giselle couldn't help but admire his broad hairy chest. She giggled nervously. 

"He has smelled one all right, but he can't find it. Don't worry I won't sully your spotless reputation by allowing us to be caught red-handed," she said as Jason glared at her.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" he demanded, but Giselle was already slipping off her skirt, and pulled over her t-shirt, she wasn't wearing anything beneath; Jason's eyes were drawn irresistibly to the smooth curves underneath it.

"Let's not fight, lover. Come on — take me, right here, right now," she whispered into his ear. 

Jason's hand stole around her and settled on the firm, rounded flesh of her behind. His finger dug into the sensitive crevice, and Giselle sighed with pleasure.

"Ah! That feels lovely. You do know how to turn a woman on, don't you?" she mumbled, nuzzling against his hairy chest as his fingers probed deeper.

"I aim to please," he stated, the gravity in his voice making her laugh. Then she gasped as he lowered his head and closed his lips over her left nipple. Giselle began to squirm with delight, her pelvis grinding itself against his in demanding, circular movements.

"God, how I love that, keep doing that..." she moaned then sucked in her breath and bit her lower lips as his teeth sank with carefully calibrated brutality into her breast. Jason grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, her legs on either side of his waist; he led her towards his bed and dropped her onto it. Quickly he pulled down his jeans, and with a wide grin displayed his erection. Without wasting much time he got between her legs and positioned his cock on her entrance. 

"Not so quickly, lover. Give me an itsy-bitsy appetizer first..." she said smugly, caught her breath as his head vanished between her quivering thighs. A moment later she was squirming in ecstasy as his tongue probed the walls of her pussy. Working with excruciation slowness, he worked it up to where her labia joined and her swollen love-button anticipated it eagerly.

"Ohhh, keep doing that. Yes, like that, ohhhh..." she groaned as he set her on fire with his practiced manipulations of his tongue's tip. Then she came, her pelvis bucking up against his face as she convulsed and spasmed in the sheer, heavenly pleasure of her climax, they lay like that for a long while. Giselle basked in the afterglow of her orgasm as Jason gathered his strength for the next round of the game. 

She reached down and encircled his swollen, rock-hard member with her fingers, working them slowly up and down over its shaft. Now it was his turn to lie back and moan as she shagged him into frenzy of aching desire. Just when he thought that he would have to explode die and go to heaven, she straddled him and guided his manhood into her eager pussy. Jason lay there helpless as she began to heave her hips back and forth, gripping his engorged organ in the warm, wet fist of her pussy. Reaching up, he grabbed her breast and kneaded them methodically as her thrusts became faster and more frenzied.

"Oh my God, I'm Cumming again..." she wailed now thrusting up, down, sideways. She fell over him and their lips joined in a hungry, tongue — entwining kiss as they both approached their peaks. Then Jason's back arched upwards, driving his manhood up to its hilt in her sheath, and shot his boiling sperm into her. At the same time, Giselle dug her fingernails into his shoulders as her second orgasm shook her.

*-*-*

"Remember, same time, I'll be waiting." Whispered Jason as Giselle now fully dressed again peeked out into the empty corridor and slipped out of his apartment. She threw him a quick, fleeting smile of affirmation and vanished around the corner. 

Jason closed the door of his apartment and glanced at his wristwatch. Two hours to go before his next 'appointment'— he had plenty of time for a shower and a quick drink. He had a little action going in practically every home in the block, except one — his new neighbor. She and her husband had moved in less than a week ago, and the woman was strikingly attractive. He has set his eyes on her the moment he saw her. She was his next target, but it won't be easy, as she didn't give any 'sign'. However, he was sure that he'd break through her defenses and reach small, vital spark of infelicity that he knew was buried in the heart of every married woman.

As Jason hurried down the stairs to reach the bar across the road before closing time, he had to suffer through an unpleasant encounter in the building's lobby.

"I don't know you that well, Mr. Jason, but I hear that you're making 'sheep's eyes' at my wife," said his aggressor. Jason recognized him; he was Marc who had moved in with his wife recently and right next door to his own apartment.

"I've no idea what you're talking about, and I'm afraid that I don't have the time to discuss it with you at the moment." He said and slid past Marc, continuing down the stairs as Marc glared after him. The man had dumbfounded and confounded him completely. A thousand retorts to the insult he had just been given sprang to tip of his tongue. In the decisive moment he had been rendered speechless, and it made Marc furious.

*-*-*

"I tried to have a chat with that Jason guy." Marc said caressing Linda's hair. 

"What for?" 

"I don't mind any guy looking at you, but that Jason doesn't have a good reputation. I thought I should put an end to his ogling. Besides, when I approached him to have a chat, he just ignored me. Next time I won't talk, I'll kick his ass first." Marc answered trying to prove his point.

Linda sighed and snuggled close to her husband, she thought for sometime and finally said, "I shouldn't have broached that topic earlier." 

Marc held Linda and the way she snuggled he realized that she was worried. He kissed her lightly on her forehead and said, "I won't do anything stupid." 

"I'm sure you won't" Linda said returning the kiss.

"Let's not spoil our mood; in fact, I'm ready for another round." Marc said getting on top of Linda. They made love again and drifted off to sleep in each other's arms. 

Next day Jason was at shopping mall when he saw Linda. Jason realized Linda was all alone; her over protective husband wasn't there. Despite Marc's little aggressive cameo a day before, he smiled to himself and thought it was a good opportunity to make a move on his target. 

Linda was busy cross checking items in her trolley with her shopping list when she heard — hello in a rough voice. She turned around and saw Jason standing behind her. Finding herself in a 'sticky' situation she replied quick hello, tried to turn her trolley and walk away from Jason. 

"You need help with that?" Jason asked pointing Linda's overflowing trolley.

"No thanks, I'll manage." Linda refused politely.

"I'll be happy to help." Jason said grabbing the handle of the trolley in spite of Linda's refusal.

"You done with the shopping, or anything is left out?" Jason asked trying to make a conversation.

"I'm done, payment is remaining." 

All the way to payment counter Linda walked at a 'safe' distance from Jason. After last night's conversation with Marc she wanted to avoid any trouble. When she saw there were hardly any people at the counter she gave a sigh of relief. 

Jason felt his heart made a somersault when he saw almost empty counters. He began to put his plan in action. "When she'll thank me for my generosity, I'll ask her for a coffee or drink. It's time to break her defenses." He thought 

Jason stood behind Linda while she was busy at the payment counter. He checked her out and his gaze stuck on her tight ass. "It won't be long — I'll get that piece of ass very soon." Jason thought — his cock getting hard. Linda wanted Jason to just disappear from there. She did notice he purchased few things just for the sake of shopping. She quickly paid for her purchase, turned to leave when Jason stopped her. 

"It won't take long, just few minutes." He tried to convince her.

"Mr...." Linda knew his name, but pretended she doesn't care.

"Jason."

"I'm getting late, thanks for the help." Linda said turning around without bothering if he heard her or not.

Jason just stood there; he clenched his fist in anger. "I'll make her scream my name when I'll fuck her brain out." Jason thought trying to soothe his battered ego.

*-*-*

"Scream my name." Jason grunted as he fucked Giselle hard.

Roger called Giselle to let her know that he won't be home till midnight due to an emergency meeting. The moment she heard the news, she ran next door, she knew Roger won't be interested in having sex so it's better to get 'some' from Jason. Jason was more than happy. He fucked her in every position, and pounded her as hard as he can. He was fucking Giselle, but mentally he was ravishing Linda. He wished it were Linda beneath him, calling his name as he fucked her hard. 

Giselle was in cloud nine. She always loved it when Jason fucked her, but today he was in full charge. She called his name repeatedly as he asked her to do. She lost the count of her orgasm as he had his way with her. Finally Jason gave few more trust and came deep inside her. 

"What happened to you today? You were like an animal." Giselle said running her hands over Jason's hairy chest.

"Nothing, just pent up energy." 

"Whatever it was, I enjoyed every minute of it." 

As they got dressed Giselle gave Jason a passionate kiss, and before getting out of his apartment she promised to return soon. Jason sat in his recliner and thought "If only my plan worked earlier — it would've been Linda in place of Giselle." 

Jason was on his way to have a drink in a bar when he came face-to-face with Linda in the corridor. "Luck seems to be in my favor." He thought.

"Hi." 

Linda knew that Jason will try again to make a move on her. At shopping mall she was bit surprised, but given the fact that he always tried to 'undress' her in the building corridor — she prepared herself mentally to deal with him. She crossed her hands in front of her chest and raised one of her eyebrows, as if to say — you chose the wrong day.

"Look Jason, I'm not interested to have niceties with you so please don't bother me again." 

To say Jason was stunned was an understatement. He opened his mouth to say, but couldn't get the right words. He realized it's better to play safe.

"I think there's some misunderstanding. Yesterday your husband mentioned that I make "sheep's eyes" at you, but believe me my intentions are honorable. Maybe some day we all should have a drink together, and clear the air." 

"You know, I could've called the security or even the police at the mall, but I chose not to. Every time I pass by in this passage, I've observed you staring at me. The way you look at me it's so disgusting. I feel your stares undressing me. Thank your lucky stars, Jason that you are still here. And just for your information I and my husband are not interested to have any sort of friendship with you. Besides, he wants to kick your ass. I've asked him not to."

"Don't want to see me get hurt, huh?" Jason asked touching his chin with his thumb.

"I don't want his shoes to get dirty." Linda said pushing him aside and making her way towards her apartment door. 

Jason shook his head in disbelief. He never had such an experience. Hell, till now he had a good 'record'. 

When Marc came home, Linda didn't mention any of the day's events. She was very happy to show Jason his place. How long was she going to suffer his stares? It satisfied her that she took the initiative instead of Marc to put an end to his ogling. "But if he tries again — maybe I should let Marc kick his ass." She thought. 

For next few weeks Jason didn't bother Linda. Marc did try to dig any information about Jason's ogling; Linda convinced him that Jason doesn't bother her anymore. He did trust her, and knew what to do if he came to know that Jason was bothering her again. 

*-*-*

It was Friday and Marc came home early in the evening. When he entered his house it was dark and there was no sign of Linda — something which was unusual. He switched on the lights and called out her name. There was no response. He searched her in their bedroom, she wasn't there. He then saw that their bathroom light was on. He went over and peeked inside. Linda was sitting on the edge of the bathroom tub. She looked tried, and had a look that said she cried. 

Marc went over to Linda, and kneeled in front of her. He took both of her hands in his, and asked, "Linda, are you all right?" 

"There's something I need to tell you." Linda said looking into Marc's eyes. His face was a shade was different colors. 

She pursed her lips, looked at her now worried husband's face, and burst into laugh. "You are going to be a father, Marc. I'm pregnant." 

For few seconds Marc didn't understand how to react. He then realized what she said. He stood, and jumped by the excitement of the news. Marc pulled Linda on her feet, and hugged her tightly. 

"Tell me again, what you just said Linda." Marc said taking her face in both of his hands.

"I'm pregnant, and we are going to be proud parents, Marc." Linda almost screamed; Marc didn't understand if she was laughing or crying. Both hugged each other tightly, and stood there absorbing the happy news.

"This calls for a celebration, let's go out and celebrate." 

Marc and Linda went to their favorite restaurant to celebrate. They talked about their past, how they met, and discussed their future. Marc started to plan things for the baby. The color of the room — Blue if it's a boy or Pink if it's a girl. How he'll teach to play basketball, take him or her to zoo, amusement park, and on camping. Linda just smiled at her husband; he was so excited by the news. 

When they came back it was completely different scene in their building. There was an ambulance standing in front of the main gate with a couple of police cars. On their way to their apartment they saw a group of men standing in Jason's apartment. There was blood everywhere in his apartment. It was obvious, something happed to Jason. Linda wasn't able to see the horrifying scene; she turned around and buried her face in Marc's chest. 

Marc asked an old woman standing next to them about what was going on. 

"Roger did all this. I heard him screaming something — vasectomy, pregnant, and then I heard gun sound; it was more than five times. Everyone knows his wife was having an affair with that Jason. I think Jason got her pregnant, its good Roger killed that man." She replied with disgust in her voice. 

The door of Roger and Giselle's apartment was half opened. Marc tried to peek inside and got a glimpse of Giselle sitting on the floor. She looked like a dead body. Marc looked down and saw his wife, Linda. The contrast was oblivious, there were two wives, one faithful — the other unfaithful. Marc kissed Linda's head lightly, and took her inside their apartment, and closed the door behind them.



Contrast Ch. 01



(This is part one of a three- or four-part novella about two people who start a just-for-sex relationship on impulse. But have they bitten off more than they can chew?)

Him

So I'm walking down the street to get breakfast after dropping the car off at the dealer. It's still early, not many businesses open, modest traffic, but the sun's up and already starting to heat the sidewalk and asphalt. Ahead of me, walking slower than I am, there's a luscious looking chick in a faded denim skirt and camo tank top. Her skin is dark, her hair highlighted bronze and up in a knot at the back of her head. As I get a little closer, her color resolves itself from uncertain and dusky to a definite chocolate brown, and as I get closer still she glances over her shoulder just enough to give me a glimpse of her rich brown lips and softly rounded nose. Her eyes are hidden behind tortoiseshell sunglasses. She's wearing a backpack, but a small one. It leaves her shoulders bare and obvious. They're strong but curvy, as is her waist below the backpack. The pale denim skirt hits her mid-thigh, and it's full of her can -- round, broad, maybe a little too broad, and maybe her thighs are heavier than they could be, but it's still a great package.

She's walking much slower than I am. The space between us closes.

Ahead there's a stoplight, where I'm planning to take the crosswalk to the other side of the street. I don't want to zip around her just to get there first and have to wait, so I slow down a little. Then I have to slow down more, and more. I'm getting very close to her now. She throws a look over her shoulder again.

We reach the intersection, and she turns. Her eyes are still invisible behind the dark lenses, but there's a challenge in the expression on her smooth, dark, oval face, and a sharpness in the angle of her brows.

"You want some of this?" she asks, her arms moving just enough to emphasize that she's including her whole body in that pronoun.

"Um, look, I was just --"

"Coz if you want some of this, my apartment's right over there." She hooks a thumb over her finger toward a complex halfway down the block from our light.

"Geez," I say, taken aback. I don't know if she's making a serious offer or angrily mocking me for following her so close. Her tits are round and large within the camouflage pattern of her tank top, pushing it up and forward, cleaving together in a gorgeous molasses-colored valley inside her low-cut neckline. I try to keep my eyes off them. "I'm -- my car is in --"

Her face softens a little -- losing a fire of offense, or maybe losing enthusiasm for her proposition.

"Are you serious?" I ask, suddenly desperate to head off the second of those alternatives.

One sharp eyebrow perks back up again. The corners of her broad lips curve higher, and clean white teeth show between them. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I can be."

"All right then. Fuck all and let's go."

She turns and crosses through the intersection, legs pumping faster now, like she's got someplace to be. I keep up, eyes on the swish of her bottom in that skirt. She doesn't say anything, and I don't either. Once in a while, her head tilts back across that shoulder as if to make sure I'm not falling behind.

We reach the apartment complex. She cuts around behind the office to a nearby building, shucking her backpack as she gets to the stairs. On the way up, I continue watching her ass and legs while she finds her keys in the pack. Smooth, shadowy, brown, round, stepping up the stairs, wagging that tightly filled denim skirt back and forth as they move. Suddenly, we're at her door and she's unlocking it, stepping in, tossing her backpack and keys on a pass-through bar that opens onto the kitchen. It's a small place, dim and cheap, only a little furniture, all of it plain but not trashy.

"Through here," she says, looking back just long enough to check that I've closed the door before she glides down a short hall to the bedroom. By the time I join her, she's kicked off her shoes and is undoing the catch of her skirt, lowering its zipper.

I stare for a minute. The skirt slides down past her hips, revealing cocoa flesh in powder-blue cotton panties.

"We doing this thing, or what?" she asks. The sunglasses come off in one hand, held at an angle that looks like a command. Her eyes are deep and full of fire, with sensuous lids and perfect, luxuriant lashes.

"Uh, yeah," I say. Then, feeling stupid and insufficiently encouraging, I add, "Hell yeah."

She pulls her top off as I fumble with my belt and fly. My shoes don't cooperate either. Before I'm half out of my clothes, she's naked, standing before me.

Naked.

Her breasts jut aggressively from her chest, high and round, nipples as big as the tip of my pinkie, areolas as far across as my whole finger, all a rich, earthy loam color. Her belly curves out with a fecund cleanliness, smooth, perfect in its lush swell, punctuated at its lower end by trimmed pubic fuzz. She's got her hands on her hips, hips cocked, mouth in a lascivious smirk at my awkwardly undressing form.

"Come on, white boy, let's see what you've got."

I get my ankles free of my pants, yank my shirt over my head. In the moment I'm blinded by the motion, she steps forward and gets on one knee, her fingers seizing the waistband of my briefs. I throw the shirt away and look down at her wide-eyed, feeling my cock surge fiercely against the fabric of my shorts.

She brings the waistband down slowly, slowly, revealing my nest of brown curls, then the root of my dick, then an inch and two and three of shaft.

"Lookin' pretty good so far," she says with a grin up at me. She tugs the shorts down hard and I pop loose, my pole aimed straight for her face. Her hand circles quickly about my shaft. "Mm-hm, pretty good, all right."

From my angle, with her hand around me and her mouth right there, I completely expect her to lunge or ease forward and wrap those sweet, full lips over my tip.

Instead, she rises up from her knee, and as she does so, angles her head, spits a huge gobbet of saliva onto me, and uses her hand to quickly sheath my whole cock in the wet, slick fluid.

Then she lets go and spreads her arms and falls back onto the bed behind her. Her legs draw up. She scoots into place with her head against the pillows.

"Let's get to it, then," she says.

"Christ," I respond, then jump onto the mattress with her.

I crawl quickly into place, pulled forward by her hands as soon as my shoulders come within reach of them. She gets a hand down to guide my tool before I can do it myself. Her legs are up, I'm lowering forward and down onto her ...

"Fuuuckkk!" she groans as my cock goes in. She's damp and slick around me, tight, deep, flesh-soft and muscle-firm all at once.

"Shit," I gasp. "Nfh, that's -- oh my god, what a pussy!"

Her legs and arms wrap around me and that big mouth slurps up onto mine in a wet glide of lips and tongue. Lower, her pelvis rocks up to accept me even deeper into her cunt, grinding our crotches hotly together.

"Uh, mm." She withdraws the kiss and licks her lips, then seals her mouth back over mine and starts to hump.

I slide with her. She's amazingly strong. Her whole body moves to bring her slick vagina forward and back around me, to keep her clit pressed firmly against me. She's moaning and mumbling through our kiss. I'm working hard to keep up with her, to feel like I'm driving as powerfully into her as she's squeezing tight around me. Her tits are soft and huge against my chest, the nipples pressing into me, rubbing along my pectorals. Her stomach, curvaceous and smooth, stays in constant contact with mine. Her fingers dig their way along my spine, mostly the tips but sometimes the nails, never quite enough to hurt.

Belatedly, I realize something -- why, I don't know. Do I say anything? I have to.

"Crap, look, I didn't even think about a condom -- do we need to --"

"Fuck that shit," she says firmly, holding me tighter like she wants to make sure I don't pull out. "Just give it to me. Uhh! Squirt it up in me when you get there, I've got a piggy bank somewhere I can break open for Plan B money. Fuck me, you bastard!"

I laugh and get back to it, humping, driving. She's exquisite, a straightjacket of muscle and soft flesh trapping me, pulling back against every move I make, squeezing, inescapable. My cock feels every ripple and texture inside her cunt, hot and wet with her juices, exhaling her smell from our crotches with each thrust I ply into her.

"Yeah! Yes, fuck me like that!"

"Uhh! MMMnn -- that's good?"

"Fuckin' A! Oh -- oh, fuck, my cunt! You're doing it, you're doing it -- aaahhh..."

She's bucking beneath me like a hurricane sea. Her teeth are gritted, her moans squeezing out between them, her face a clench of peaking focus. My hard-on is an iron beam driven into the foundations of heaven to hold up the clouds. We're both sweating out a summer downpour, my white skin hydroplaning over her black body with every push I make into her gutteral depths.

"AHHH!" she yells in my ear, dragging me down onto her with all her strength. "AH-UH-UAAHH! I'm coming - fuck, coming so hard - ah, god, lay it INTO me!"

Her back arches powerfully enough to throw me off if it weren't for the vice-tight grip of her arms and legs holding me deep in the spasming tunnel of her snatch. I can't even move to make another thrust, she's wrapped so fastly around me.

"YESSSSSS! OH, YOU FUCKER! UHH! UHH! UHHHH!"

She collapses back, arms and legs now encircling me loosely instead of constricting anaconda-tight. I start fucking her again, smooth and slow. Her breath is all panting and moans.

"Oh, you've got a cock on you, boy," she whispers. "Oh, that's a cock."

I probe her with it, loving the way her flesh parts around me as I push in, suckles slickly as I draw back. "You like it, huh? You like this cock in you?"

"Yesss. Work it ..." Her slitted eyes play across my face as her heels encourage me with a light pressure between my thighs and ass.

I move faster. She's a serpent-den, deep and moist for me to slither through.

"Take me deep, honey," I gasp. "Take that thing!"

"Uh! Yeah!" She's tightening up again. "Hump it into me! Make me your bitch!"

The word shoots through me like electricity. It lights up that switchboard in my brain changing the connections from penis-making-a-pleasant-call to orgasm-dialing-in-on-priority-line.

I jam myself hard into her. "That what you want? Ngh -- that?"

"Yes, fucking pound me!"

I'm trying to put the orgasm on hold, but it's not having it. I start giving her all I've got, hips thrusting locomotive-fast, dick swelling up steam-hot inside her sultry hole. The sweat is dripping off me, drops from my chin hitting her throat, her cheek. She's gleaming with it and with her own perspiration. Her tits are slick pillows of flesh gliding under my chest with the movements between us.

"Take it, then, bitch," I groan. "Take my fucking, uhh - you hot - mnh - sweating - ah - juicy - bitch!"

She's back in straightjacket mode, a wet, constricting animal grinding against me, with me. "Give it to me, you fucker! Put that cum up in me!"

"Oh shit," I say, feeling the cusp. "Oh shit, here it is ..."

"Ah, ah, yes, me too --"

I blow loose inside her sweet, throbbing cunt. "AHHhhh!"

"Eee...ng ..." she squeaks. "Coming ..."

The orgasm rolls her spine up into another arch as I gush and spew inside her. "Fuck, bitch, that's so good!"

"Coming ... eeeuu ... AH! AH! AH!"

The cum keeps flowing out of my balls while her peak subsides in a series of lowering waves.

" ... fucker ..." she pants. "... that cock ..."

"So good," I breathe. "Can't believe it."

She laughs. One hand leaves my back and runs along my cheek. "Oh, yeah, believe it."

I kiss her, eyes closed, tongue seeking to connect the perfect circle of joining we just accomplished. She kisses back, relaxing, feet leaving my thighs and returning to the mattress. I feel the air-conditioning drying the sweat on my back. My softening dick gives another throb inside her.

"Jesus, you're a good fuck," she says. "How'd you get to be that good?"

I shake my head. "I don't know, I've never had anybody this fantastic to fuck with."

"Mm," she says, and kisses me again. "I hope your car is in for something big and you're not going to run out and get it anytime soon."

"Oil change and tire rotation. And they're expecting me at work at some point."

"Shitfuck." She scrapes her nails along my back, glistening dark eyes wandering from my face down my throat, across my chest and shoulders. "Well how often are you going to be able to come back and do this to me?"

I put my mouth to the pulse below her jaw and ear. "Mmm. Bad time to ask. Right now, I'm ready to fucking move in and spend all day every day doing this."

"No, you can't move in," she says, wiggling lightly beneath me. "They'd need your name on the lease, and I don't want to know your name. I just want to know your cock."

"Are we joking right now, or is this going to be a thing?"

"Dunno if you're joking, but I'm wanting it to be a thing. I'm wanting this dick in me nice and regular."

"But no names?"

She shakes her head. "Gimme your number and I'll put you in my phone as 'Fuck-Man.'"

"What do you want to be in my phone?"

She grins. "Put me in as 'My Bitch.'"

"Goddamn, the way you say that ... I never even liked that word until I had my cock in you when you said it."

"I never liked it either," she says, "but I never had a just-fucking relationship either. Turns out I do like the way they go together."

I'm still in a daze. All that comes to mind is to say, "Your body is fucking amazing."

She laughs. "No, say it the right way."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, 'Bitch, your body is fucking amazing.'"

"Wait, what? Does being my bitch mean you get to tell me what to say? I mean, I'm not sure how this whole 'bitch' thing works."

She pushes her pubis up against me. "You want to slip your dick in this cunt on a steady basis, yeah, I get to tell you what to say."

"Okay. Bitch, your body is fucking amazing."

"Damn straight it is. And it knows a good cock when it's wrapped around one."

"I'm going to fuck you again now."

She grins. "Get to it."



Her

It's three hours after that when I get out of bed and go to the bathroom. A ridiculous amount of cum slops out of me when I sit on the can. I should be thinking what the fuck did I just do? But instead I'm watching his semen drip from my vagina and thinking it sucks how he's got to go pick up his car and get to work.

I feel so ...

Alive.

Proud.

Grateful.

I wipe and flush and get up and run the tap and lean on the basin for a second without starting to wash my hands yet. I'm looking at the girl in the mirror and thinking, Woman, you are a fuck machine. It's like that reflection's a different person. All the parts I thought looked fat yesterday look like a man wants his hands on them today. And his mouth. The dude was goddamn all over me the second and third times we did it. Like he couldn't get enough of anything, like every inch of me blew his mind, like he had to smell and touch and taste me head to toe to believe what was happening to him.

And he didn't just like what he found -- he fucking loved it.

The tap's still running and suddenly he's there in the doorway behind me. I left it open because ... well, I told myself because I didn't want him grabbing his pants and sneaking out. But that wasn't it. I knew he wasn't going to. No, I left it open because I wanted this: him coming over because he can't help himself, shaking his head at the sight of my ass and my naked back before he looks up to meet my eyes in the mirror. I left it open because I didn't want anything between us that didn't have to be between us.

I start washing my hands.

"So, you're going now, right?"

"Yeah." His eyes and his voice swear that he doesn't want to. "If I don't, I'm going to fuck you again, and then by the time I get home and shower and change, I'm going to miss my after-lunch meeting and there will be hell to pay."

"Come help me wash my hands," I say.

"Oh fuck."

I laugh, seeing his cock stir as he says it, knowing he's already imagining himself up next to me, arms around me, hands on my hands under the running water, dick nestled right in my crack.

"I'm kidding," I say. "Get your skinny ass to work."

He looks relieved and disappointed at the same time. Putting a foot into his pants and underwear at the same time, he says, "Bitch, you are bad news."

I laugh again, turning off the water. "You've only seen the start of it."

With his pants all the way up now, he watches me turn and use the hand-towel.

"What?" I ask, drying my hands. "Don't you have to leave?"

Those eyes stay on me, and they've been on my face through all of this, even though my tits are swinging right out there. He gets his shirt up, bunches it to put one arm into a sleeve, then breaks eye contact to pull it over his head, just for a second. The other arm goes through, and then he's just standing, like a man on the edge of something.

He wants to ask if I'm sure about the no-names thing. He wants to tell me he feels something. Or maybe he just wants to kiss me goodbye.

"Look ..." he says.

"What?" I put my hands on my hips and give him a mean look. Not because I'm mad. Because I know if he asks, I'll tell him anything he wants. If he says he feels something, I'll melt. If he kisses me, I'll beg him to stay.

"Uh ... I just wanted to say, this was great. I'll call you. Promise."

"Yeah, good. I had fun too. Now get the hell out so I can look for my piggy bank and make my trip down the street to the pharmacy."

He blinks a little, like he'd forgotten the whole Plan B conversation. Then he nods and heads back into the bedroom for his shoes. I lean against the bathroom doorframe while he slips them on -- sneakers, a little worn. He's paying more attention to the laces than any adult needs to. Is he going to offer to pitch in for the whoops-forgot-the-condom pill? I can almost see the gears spinning in his head: Which one would be shittier? Having money change hands right before I leave, or leaving her on the hook for the stuff when she says she's going to have to scrounge to pay for it?

I don't want him offering to spot me birth-control money. For one thing, it'd feel cheap. For another thing, I really don't have spare cash to be throwing around, and it would suck to have to turn him down.

I stay slouched in the doorway, keeping my eyes on him and narrow, letting my lips curl up a little like I'm a cat who's got her sights on a nice, fat, slow mouse, only she's not in any hurry to pounce -- she knows the mouse can't get away. He stands up. If he was planning to say he'd cover the Plan B, my patient-cat look changes his mind.

With a scratch to the back of his head, he says, "Okay. Well, I'll see you soon."

"Bitch."

He laughs. "Yeah. Bitch."

But he's still slow going out the front door, and when I look through the peep-hole, I see him stand there a while before rubbing his chin and heading for the stairs.

I turn and slide naked down the door to the floor, whispering, "Crap, girl, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Head leaning to one side against the knob, I close my eyes, and we're there in my bed again, missionary, cowgirl, doggy-style, sixty-nine. I'm hot between my legs like his mouth is sucked tight right on target. In my head he's coming inside me -- coming and coming, his dick pulsating through the tight squeeze I'm giving him with my cunt.




Contrast Ch. 01



And the sound he's making ... the look on his face, astonishment and release ... and the way his eyes spark with joy when I groan and curve up against him in my own orgasm, clutching him tight, throwing my head back, every muscle in my body contracting at once as the light sweeps out from my crotch through every fiber of my nervous system and makes him and the world and everything disappear until at last I slump back to the mattress, drained and swollen full at the same time. And the way he eases down close, kissing softly at my neck as I shudder and coo.

I did this whole thing to give myself a birthday present. My birthday went pretty crappy, four days earlier. Niza had the flu and ditched out of our girls' night on the town, and between her work and mine and my classes, I'm not seeing her till the weekend at least. So inviting him to follow me home -- once I'd realized he was harmless and not some drooling sleazebag trying to get right up on my ass while we were on that sidewalk together -- it was a feel-better indulgence, a nice little morning fuck, after way too long staying faithful to my vibrator, and then he's gone, happy birthday to me, I get some sleep, do my statistics, go to evening class, work another night shift, life goes on.

Only now, what the fuck?

I really didn't expect it to be so good. I'd been doing my hot-foster-brother fantasy on the bus, working myself up to get off in bed before I'd fall asleep. So I was primed and hot by the time I got him in the bedroom. But it still blew my mind when I tucked that tip down between my lips and he shoved all the way in and filled me completely, totally up. And it blew my mind even more how good he felt jamming into me and against my clit, and how hard I came and how much I wanted to have that again and again and again.

So this one-time whirl, this just-once lust indulgence -- it's not even over, he's not even off of me, his cock's not even soft inside me before I'm asking him to come back and do it again? On a regular basis?

And he's saying yes?

Niza's going to flip out, of course -- only no, I can't even tell her because she'll go ape-shit over me making a white guy my regular fuck after all the brothers she's tried to hook me up with. Hell, she still gives me shit over that asian guy I one-nighted two years ago. Why does that girl have to have so many goddamn issues? But I know why, and she's the closest thing I've got to family, and even if it bugs the fuck out of me that she's whitey-can-go-to-hell racist, she's Niza and it's going to freak me out keeping this a secret from her.

But I'm going to.

I mean, assuming he actually calls me, or answers my call when I call him. And that's an assumption I think is pretty much a lock. He could barely make himself leave to keep from being late to work. He could barely make himself get off my porch and go down the stairs.

And I could barely keep myself from grabbing him and trying to make him stay.

Even now, sitting here with my ass in the carpet and my back against the cold door, he's got me so hot I'm practically ready to stick some fingers up my slit and get myself off to all these roaring, insistent memories of how he fucked me the whole morning long.

In fact, my hand is wandering that direction without me even thinking about it -- when the door rattles with a knock.

What the shit?

I jump up in a half panic. If it's maintenance or something, I can tell them to give me a second to get dressed. But what if it's Niza dropping by to give me my birthday gift as a surprise? She's got a key and she'll come in if I don't answer and the chain is on so she'll know I'm home and when I let her in all it will take is one look -- maybe one whiff -- to tell her I've been fucking somebody. And then what do I say?

I step back away from the door and say, "Who is it?"

"It's me."

Holy shit, it's him. What's he doing back?

I look through the peephole. He's got his eyes down. He looks off-balance. He's holding something.

I get the chain off and open the door, hiding behind it more as a shield from confusion than because I'm naked.

"What --"

He holds out a bag, looks from it to me -- awkwardly to start, then suddenly more sure when our eyes meet. The bag's from the pharmacy.

"Yeah, I went across the street for this so you wouldn't have to go out. You can pay me back later or not, whatever."

I blink for a second and step out from behind the door. If one of the neighbors comes out right now, they'll see me in all my glory, but I don't care.

"Kind of a big bag, isn't it?"

"There's a, ah, couple of giant-size boxes of condoms in there too. I was hoping I could come back and use one on you tonight."

I raise one eyebrow. "Just one condom for the whole night?"

"No," he says, suddenly suave, "one box."

"Ha!" I take the bag. "Well, you're out of luck, 'coz I have ... " No personal details. "... a thing to do tonight."

"Tomorrow night?"

Four to midnight shift. "No."

He's starting to look less certain. He looks my naked body up and down. "I'm guessing there's no way your Friday night is open."

I can't help but smile that he'd think that about me. Especially since I almost never have anything to do Friday nights. Except this one, there's Niza and my late birthday.

"No, I've got plans for Friday." I let that sink in just a second before I add, "Friday I'm gonna be getting my rest so I can screw you all day Saturday. You up for Saturday?"

The sweat breaks and he grins. "How early do you want me here?"

Niza will have me out till two. "Anytime after three a.m. But seven or eight might be better, if you want me really rested up."

"I just plain want you, rested or not." That makes me shiver, then he goes on, "I function better after eight, though. You like doughnuts?"

"They're okay," I say. "But I do like the sound of something with white cream inside and chocolate on top."

"Christ, you're so nasty."

"Just bring some coffee with the doughnuts and I promise I'ma show you how nasty I can be."

"I'll be here."

"I'll be like this," I say, running a hand down my belly to my pubes, burying my fingertips in the hair. "Unless you like it shaved."

"I like it like it is."

For some reason, that makes me smile.

Then he adds, "But if I get to help shave it, we can try it shaved sometime."

I leave the hand in my thatch and put my other one on the doorknob. "Go before I make you come back in and put your mouth down here."

"I'm going," he says. But he doesn't turn away until I start to swing the door shut.

I need to sleep. I'm beat from the night shift and the three hours of workout-quality sex. I still have homework between whatever sleep I get and my bus-ride to class tonight. But none of that stops me from getting my vibrator out and running over every single thing that we did after I fell on the bed and opened my legs for him.

When I finally start to drop off, my last thought is, Holy fuck, my life just got crazy.



Them

He has thought about her at least twice in every waking hour since Wednesday morning. Usually more. Between the constant struggle to maintain his attention and the almost-as-constant anxiety that a co-worker might spot one of his countless erections, work has been a nerve-wracking mess. At home, he's had to set aside his current fantasy novel and write nothing but a string of erotic short stories so that his dick is an accessory to the creative process instead of an obstruction.

By Friday night, he's seriously considering putting on a 2:00 alarm and taking her up on that "anytime after three a.m." offer. But she's so cool and collected, he doesn't dare come across desperate, so he leaves the clock set for seven and when his brain wakes him up at 5:30 instead he forces himself to stay in bed and wait for the buzzer.

At eight a.m., she's sound asleep, having a dream in which Niza hands over her present and she unwraps it and instead of a quart of Bailey's it's him. But then when she jumps on him and starts to grind, Niza freaks and starts trying to pull her off. The second her cunt pops free of his dick, it's spouting cum like a champagne bottle blowing loose, and she's trying to dive under the fountain and catch it in her mouth, and the drops she gets taste just like Bailey's, but Niza's still dragging on her arm and she gets more up her nose and in her eye than in her mouth ...

And there's a knocking sound somewhere that smacks Niza away into the dark corners of dreamland and pound-pound-pounds the waking day into her brain.

"Fuuuck..." she groans with a hand to her head, half-rolling, half-falling out of bed, ending up on her knees before she can get herself upright. Then she realizes what the knocking has to be, and her heart sends a gush of blood to her head that wakes her up enough to panic. She's still in the sweaty, beer-slopped dress she wore clubbing with Niza last night, her breath is a wave of sour dead-and-buried alcohol scent, and God only knows what her hair looks like.

He waits on her doorstep repeatedly stopping himself from biting his lip, from tapping his foot, and most of all from reaching up to knock again. If she's here and awake, she obviously would have heard the first knock, and if she's not awake, or if she's in the shower, he'll just make an idiot of himself banging on the door. Rude ... clueless ... desperate ... take your pick of what kind of idiot.

He's got too much shit with him -- went too crazy at the donut shop. A dozen donuts. A carton of coffee. A drink caddy with a latte and a cappuccino and a bottle of milk and a couple handfuls of sugar packets and three different artificial sweeteners. He had to put some of it down to free up a hand to knock.

She's not here, he thinks. Or she's here, but shit, she all but told you she'd be out till two or three. Eight was too early. Why didn't I say --

The door opens. She's wrapped in a towel, hair back in a ponytail holder but with tons of stray strands jutting out.

She can tell from his expression that she looks like hell. He blinks at least three times without saying anything. He's got a bag from a donut place in one hand, coffee on the ground by his foot. Holy god don't let me scare him off looking like this. Her head hurts. She can feel the red in her eyes. But something in her chest starts burning at the sight of him.

"Jesus, I want to fuck the shit out of you," she breathes, totally forgetting her plan to say she was about to take a shower.

He grins. Whew. That's better.

Leaning down to get the coffee, he says, "Think you could maybe use some caffeine or breakfast first?"

She steps back and pulls the door wide for him. "Yeah, I could probably use that. And you'll probably want me to get cleaned up, too."

On his way past her into the living room, he catches the mix of dense, ripe, bitter, stale, every-excessive-body-smell-but-sex that she's giving off. He doesn't dare agree with her that she needs a shower -- and after a split second of not daring, he realizes he doesn't care. He wants her, and it doesn't matter how she smells. He puts everything on the kitchen ledge, and when she turns from closing the door, he grabs her and pulls her close and gets his lips over hers.

"Mmmmm," she says around his tongue, letting him press her tightly to his chest. The towel is slipping loose, but there's no space between them for it to fall.

She tastes of morning mouth and hours-old booze, but her tits pillow softly against his chest and her hands slide around him, one climbing his spine and the other clutching at his ass to draw him harder against her. Her back, her shoulder blades, and especially her wonderful heart-shaped rump, now free of the towel, give his hands a sensuous landscape to explore as their lips clutch and their tongues explore.

Then, suddenly, she breaks away, towel falling to the floor, breasts swaying gorgeously, the chocolate areolas moving in arcs with each step. With a dip of her nose toward one armpit, she grimaces and clamps both arms to her sides.

"Phweh, I'm a walking bar stank. You really gonna stand it?"

"Uh-huh. Because I'm too hot for you to care. Now come back here." He reaches for her, but she eludes his hands, putting on the half-breed love child of a smile and a frown.

"I've at least got to rinse some of this reek off."

Moving between her and the path to the hall and the bathroom, he says, "Then you're going to have to let me fuck you in the shower while you're washing."

Her resistance evaporates into a grin. "Okay, that I can do."

She stoops for the towel and drags it behind her, watching him over her shoulder as he hops and stumbles after, doffing his shoes, squirming out of his jeans, hoisting his shirt over his head. He leaves the clothes in a trail from the front of the apartment to the bathroom and manages to get there pretty tight on her heels despite the awkwardness of undressing in motion. She's out of his sight only a moment, and as he makes it to the door, he finds her bent low to turn the faucet in the tub, her ass round and boldly pushed back, cunt lips peeking out where her thighs meet.

"You're motivated this morning, huh?" she asks, not rising up, just waving a hand lazily beneath the gushing water.

He strips off his socks, then whips his briefs down to reveal that cock, as pretty as she remembers it and already bobbing up to full erection. "It's been a long three days."

Splash. Splash. Splash.

She lets her ass float up and down with each pass of her fingers through the flow. It's warm now, but she doesn't start the shower yet.

He steps forward, dick pointed straight at her, closing the distance. "God, you're fucking amazing."

Laughing again, she stands up just before he can poke his tip between her ass cheeks.

"Have to wait until I've at least started washing, remember?"

"Well, get in and get the soap, then." But he takes hold of her arm before she can do as he says, and he turns her and his lips are on hers again and they're pressed together, fiery, fierce, the beam of his cock throbbing against her belly, the plush wonder of her breasts shaping themselves to the contours of his chest.

"Fuck!" she says, breaking loose with a groan and backing into the tub. "My mouth tastes so bad, now I can taste it in your mouth. Get your ass in here and help me get cleaned up."

With no argument, he follows her into the tub and pulls the shower curtain forward along its rail. The movement brings him right up against her again. She leans back to the tiled wall, bends a second to pop the shower knob up, then feels his heat and the first cold blast of water cover her at once.

"Damn, bitch, I want to fuck you so hard."

He has her trapped between his lean frame and the tiles, and he can feel a shiver run through her at the word "bitch." He kisses her again, this time without her pulling away. The spray from the showerhead turns hot, the air moistens, their skin grows slick with water.

"Soap," she mumbles through the kiss, one hand slapping against the wall, searching for the ceramic shelf that juts out with its cream-hued body-bar on top. He pulls the arm back down to her side and gets the soap himself, still kissing, now rolling his hips to press his hard-on firmly into the soft slope of her lower belly and the thatch of dark curls that hangs dripping above her crotch.

He slides his lips down her chin, along her jaw, over to her ear, and whispers, "What do I clean first?"

Her hands squeejee up the wet musculature of his back and she breathes, "You pick."

He leans his chest and shoulders back, but not his hips. She feels the insistent, rigid need of his dick against her belly and pubes. Like a puppy with too many toys, his eyes dart from one part of her to the next to the next: face, neck, shoulders, breasts, arm, waist, navel, breasts again. It's hard for her to imagine that he's seeing what she sees every day in the mirror -- a stomach she always thinks pushes out too far, thighs that she can never seem to get as lean or toned as she wants them. She doesn't think she's a whale or anything, but he's looking at her like she's a goddess.

Finally, he lifts his eyes back to hers, takes her left wrist, draws it in an arc up along the tiles until her hand lies flat against the wall almost over her head. He repeats the motion with her right hand. With her arms raised and her shoulders back, the slopes of her breasts protrude as fully as they can from her chest, but he keeps his gaze on her face as he glides the soap slowly up her ribs and into her right armpit, gently circles it there, moves out along her tensed pectoral and down into her cleavage, orbiting her right tit in a spiral that ends with the flat of the bar teasing her nipple.

The dark, mysterious night of her eyes holds him as he switches the soap to his other hand. He can see the rise and fall of her chest quickening as he lathers her other breast and brings his empty hand up into the slick hollow of her armpit, rubbing the film of soap there into a light foam. When he finishes soaping up her left side to match the right, he lets the bar slip from his fingers. It barely has time to clang against the bottom of the tub before his palms cover her slippery breasts, ride down them over her nipples, cup their undersides and raise them, roll them in tender ellipses.

He kisses her again; she brings her hands down onto his shoulders.

The bubbly slick fondling of her breasts continues until she's tingling all over and breaks the kiss and grins at him. "I think those are pretty clean now."

"Guess I need to get the soap back then," he says.

He kneels slowly, hands descending from her tits to the curve of her belly, following its swell, dragging slippery lather with them. A thumb dips into her bellybutton. His left hand stops at her hip as his right searches the tub floor for the soap.

"Back and to your right a little," she says, warm and glad that he can't take his eyes off her to locate the bar, even though his head is now right in the spray and the water is making him blink rapidly. "No, a couple more inches toward the drain."

His hand closes on the soap. There's too much water in his eyes, and his neck is going to crick from staring up at her, so he shuts his eyelids, puts his lips to one of her inner thighs and runs the soap bar up the other. She puts a hand in his hair and the other flat against the wall at her side. His mouth is sealed on the flesh just over her femoral artery, tongue making small circles that are matched a moment later by the soap brushing against her soaking thatch. More and more firmly, he works her pubic curls into a rich white foam, then places the soap bar on the floor of the tub between his knees. With his fingers, he coaxes the silky lather down, and under, until he is rubbing it lubriciously around her clit and outer lips. She's been watching him up to this point, but now she lets her head lean back and her eyes close.

"Mmm."

Releasing the suction of his lips on her thigh, he picks up the soap with his free hand and kisses his way up and over to her dimpled-in navel, which the spray from the showerhead has mostly rinsed free of soap. There, he latches on again and explores the little depression with the tip of his tongue, while his right hand continues sudsing her twat and his left gets the soap bar up into her ass crack.

"Fuuuck ... that feels so good ..." He's tracing his finger around and around her clit, sending heat all through her groin and abdomen. The soap rubs and tickles her asshole. Hormones and electricity connect straight through her core, cunt to throat to mouth. "Uhhhh ..."

His cock is so hard that he's sure if he knocked it into the bottom of the tub, the clang would be as loud as when he dropped the soap.




Contrast Ch. 01



"I have to fuck you," he says.

She reaches down to his hands and pulls them from what they're doing, pulls him up from his knees, up face to face. They kiss. His erection throbs against her sudsy pubic thatch. Her arms go around him and draw him in tight against her. Mouth joined fierily to his, she puts first one foot and then the other onto the far side of the tub, toes hooked against the rim, stretching the vinyl of the shower curtain. He gets his hands under her ass and lifts, helping her slide upward along the wall until her cunt is at just the right level.

One-handed, he quickly reaches between them, guides his tip into place, and goes in with a single, root-deep thrust.

"UH!!"

It's the same sound from both of them, not a millisecond apart.

"Shit ..." she gasps.

"Fuck," he breathes.

Then her legs wrap around him and his free hand returns to her ass and he's fucking her up against the tiles, soap-slick skin to soap-slick skin, water cascading down them both, lips locked, hips rolling, grinding, thrusting.

Steam floats around them in a cloud. The constant hiss and patter of water underlies their moans, the hungry slithering of their kiss, their mutual, jubilant grunts when he hits a particularly potent stroke. His dick is a scepter of magic inside her, some wizardly rhythmic totem of power, rolling deeper and shallower, deeper and shallower, summoning something up from an ancient, mysterious vault inside her. She matches its ritual insistence, her clit sliding hard against his pubis.

"Yes, ohmygod, yes --"

Her flesh against his flesh, around his flesh, merging with him, floods some kind of adrenal surge through his entire body. No part of his mind registers the fact that he's supporting most of her weight. The sheer ecstasy of their joining makes a titan of him, his muscles incapable of failing or faltering because there is nothing in the world but her cunt and her breasts and her lips and her tongue, nothing to his senses but the forward and back of their brilliant lust.

"Ah...Ahh...AHHHHHhhhhhh!!!"

She squeezes him so tight he can barely breathe, her body a vice of orgasm around him.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" she shouts, right at his ear. Electric ripples of pleasure roll through her pussy, stealing the air from her lungs, the sound from her voice. He feels her climactic grip oscillating along his shaft, and without warning he's coming up into her.

"Ngh! YES!"

The throb of orgasm pounds them both, knocking stars and lightning bolts through their heads. On and on it rushes through their loins, up their spines, pulsing along veins and synapses to every inch of flesh they both possess.

Finally, he is holding her, panting, in the steady spray of the shower, the world coming back, the weight of her body making itself known again, the softening of his cock within her bringing a contented sigh from her lips.

He slips out. She slides her legs down beneath her, though they do not feel in any way steady.

"Wow," he says, still flush against the front of this woman, her dark skin hot and warm and wet against his pale flesh.

"Yeah, wow," she agrees, settling her chin across his shoulder.

His cum dribbles down along her leg from her pussy, quickly swept away by the flow of water. She shivers.

"Aftershock?" he asks with a smile.

She looks into his eyes. "Jizz drip. Don't think I've ever felt one that good."

"Shit. I guess I was supposed to put a condom on somewhere in there."

She kisses him. "Fuck it. Not that long till my period. I think we're cool. Let's just remember from here out."

"Okay."

"Goddamn, you're a good fuck."

He grins. "I could get used to hearing you say that."

"You'd fucking better. All right, let's rinse and dry off. I want to get you into bed."

"Absolutely."



Contrast Ch. 02



Author's note: I know I said this would be three or four parts last time, but I'm revising that to four or five. Or six. Pretty sure no more than six. 

Recap: After a chance street meeting, a kind-of-meek white guy and a part-time-college black woman go back to her place and fuck like weasels. Then they agree to begin a just-for-sex, no-names relationship. They get together the next Saturday morning, when she's still a mess from an out-on-the-town birthday celebration with her best friend. The story picks up just after they've had sex in her shower. 

***** 

Him 

After we dry off, she says she's going to brush her teeth. 

"Do you just want to let that coffee go completely cold, then?" I ask as she squeezes toothpaste onto her toothbrush. Her eyes, in the mirror, look from mine to the chalky green gel on the bristles, and she crinkles her nose. 

"No, you perked me up, but I'm gonna need that caffeine. How about you go get it ready while I do something with my shit-heap hair." 

"Sure," I say, watching her put the loaded toothbrush down and rummage in a drawer full of brushes and hair gizmos I couldn't name the purpose of. "How do you like it?" 

"You can't put too much cream and sugar in." 

I nod, but I can't take my eyes off her to turn away yet. She's leaning over the drawer rummaging in it, breasts hanging bare and free with the dark nipples pointing down. "Does that mean it's not possible to put too much cream and sugar in, or that you don't want me to put too much in?" 

Her eyes come up from the drawer. "It means get me my fucking coffee with a crap-ton of shit in it or I'ma bite your fucking head off." 

I raise my hands, but she grins and laughs and pulls a fat bead-bristled brush from the drawer. "Boy, you scare too easy." 

"No, you're just too good at being a bitch, honey. Now does bitch mean real sugar or the fake stuff?" 

"Fake stuff tastes like ass." 

"That's not an answer. We haven't talked rim-jobs yet ... maybe you like the taste of ass." 

She makes a face and turns to me, suddenly just a beautiful, real woman taken off balance. "Ew. Gross. Please tell me you're not into that." 

Laughing, I poke her sternum, right between the breasts. "Now who scares too easy? One coffee coming up, cream and sugar, hold the rim-job." 

She growls and narrows her eyes, back in character, returning to the mirror and her hair. 

In the kitchen, I fix her coffee and mine the same way: sweeter than sweet, several shades paler than her skin. The rasp of the brush through her hair fills my ears as I stir. It's quiet, still too early on a Saturday morning for there to be much activity outside, though her apartment complex sits off of a pretty big street. I feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience. This place is so bare. Either she's not a decorator, or she hasn't been here long and doesn't plan on being here long either.  

I don't want her to be a decorator. 

And not just because I'm not a decorator, but because I want whatever we are right now to last. I came into this woman three times on Wednesday and once this morning, and my life already revolves around her. She's so raw and alive, we're so focused together, so purely and ravenously erotic, that the close, pent blankness of this apartment makes the world of four days ago seem vacuous. Even the wait between Wednesday morning and today, empty of her but bursting with anticipation, excitement, arousal - it felt so much richer than who I had been without her. A voice somewhere inside me keeps saying don't obsess, this is a Bad Idea, you're setting yourself up for a crash down the line. 

But the sex-charged air of her apartment won't let me believe it. 

She's rolled her brown-and-bronze hair into a topknot by the time I return to the bathroom with our coffees. Her pelvis is up against the edge of the sink and she leans forward, turning her head one way and the other to check her work. It's a plain look. Simple. Functional. Fuck-me-able. With one glance, I know she put it up that way because it was quick and easy and practical. And knowing that makes me feel like I know her. 

At the same time, her pose sticks that sweet round ass out right at me, and I can't help sucking in a breath at the sight of it. She laughs and wiggles her derriere. My cock leaps halfway to attention. 

I clear my throat. "Stop that and drink your coffee or I'm not going to wait for you to drink it." 

Turning, she takes the paper cup with its plastic lid from my hand, sips it, then closes her eyes and coos a little as she drinks more. 

"Ohh," she says with the cup level but still at her lips. "I needed that." 

My own cup is forgotten in my hand. As I stand there in the doorway of her bathroom, looking at her before me naked and unadorned, my conscious mind has completely shut down. She's an African deity, a soft, smooth sculpture in dark flesh, her eyes still closed, her breasts lifting and settling gently as she breathes in through her nose just above the sip-hole of the coffee cup and then sighs out through her mouth. 

Her lashes flutter up and those earthy deep eyes find my face. 

"You stir a good cup of coffee," she says, twinkling, mischievous. Then her eyes flick downward and she smirks. "Hot coffee get you hot?" 

I look down too, to find my dick stabbing straight out at her. I'm kind of surprised and can't think of anything funny to say. 

Bending at the waist, she takes me in her free hand, fingers encircling my shaft in a firm grip. 

"You like your coffee, mister stir-stick?" she asks it. Somehow my cock gets even harder, the purple head swelling where it juts from her grasp. She's kneeling to the carpet now. "You wanna stir some more creamer in for me?" 

She tilts her head and takes a big swig from her cup. Then she looks up at me, eyes blazing, and puts her smiling, pursed lips to my tip. 

And sucks me in. 

The front half of my cock floats inside her mouth, bathed in not-quite-too-hot liquid. She keeps her eyes on mine and swallows, swallows, drinking down the coffee and bringing her inner cheeks into contact with my shaft. 

Then she pulls off me with a pop and fills up from her cup again. 

"God, I hope to fuck you're going to do that again." 

"Hmm-hmm," she says through her nose, a hum and a laugh and agreement all at once, her eyes glittering brown and mischievous, her lips working hard to hold back the coffee and her amusement at the same time. 

And then she leans in again, enveloping me in heat and wetness. Her cheeks flutter between full and fuller as she swishes, tickling me with light rolls of her tongue. Her seal doesn't quite hold this time, and a tiny bead of coffee swells at one corner of those glorious dark lips and then finds its way down toward her chin. A hand comes up to swipe the drop away as she swallows quickly, lips squirming tight around me like she's fighting a smile that would spill coffee everywhere. With a gulp, she pulls off. 

"Yeah?" 

"Oh, yeah." I take a few deep breaths, try to shake what I assume is a stupid, glazed look off my face. "I feel like such an idiot right now." 

Her eyebrows nudge together. "Why?" 

"Because I thought I knew what the word 'sexy' meant, and it turns out I didn't have a clue." 

A grin flashes her teeth, strong and white. She takes another swig from her cup, closes her eyes, and goes down on me again, very, very slowly. This time she doesn't swallow, but bobs - easing me in and out of liquid suspense, washing my cock in heat, keeping only the rigid ring of her lips in contact with my shaft. I move my hands down to frame and caress her luxuriant oval face, then close my eyes along with her and let myself just feel. There's nothing else in the world but the gentle motion of her mouth. My whole body might as well be floating in coffee. 

Then I hear her throat work, feel her lips and tongue close around me in soft surges, and breathe a long, grateful breath as she slides her head back and free. 

With her thumb and forefinger still wrapped at my root, she waggles my cock and rasps, "I need this in me." 

My hard-on practically gives a mule-kick in response. 

"Where?" I ask. "Bed?" 

"Uh-huh." 

She gets up, a little awkwardly because she's still holding her coffee and hasn't let go of me either. 

"Come on," she says, tugging me along by the cock, drinking as she goes. I follow helplessly, watching her ass, watching her head tilt up with the coffee cup, watching her throat move as she swallows. At the bedside, she smacks the empty cup down on her nightstand with a hollow clonk and turns, drawing me to her like my dick is a leash. I can't help but notice the big box of condoms standing right next to the now-empty coffee cup. She hooks an arm around my neck and kisses me, hard, hungry, jacking me off with the other hand as her tongue invades my mouth. It's electrifying and amazing and ... a little strange, because she keeps her eyes open. 

I am going to fuck you so hard, those eyes are saying. I'm fucking you with my tongue right now. I'm fucking you with my hand. I'm fucking you right in the brain through your eyes. 

Then she breaks loose and puts a hand in the center of my chest and maneuvers, pushing me, so that I'm between her and the mattress. 

"Lie down," she demands, reaching for the condom box as she says it. 

I clamber onto the sheets on my back, elbows keeping me propped up. She steps up onto the bed and walks with me as I go, one foot on either side of my body, the soft round globes of her breasts swaying with the boldness of each stride. When we're dead center of the mattress, I stop, staring up at her, and she towers there right over my dick, hands on her hips, powerful and proud and possessive. A smile slowly bends the dark, full curves of her lips. Watching me and not her hands, she rips the top from the box of rubbers, pulls out a string of them, tosses the container over her shoulder to thump to the floor. 

And I think, Who is this woman? How can she be everything that I want when I don't know where she's from or what kind of things she's interested in or what she believes or what her name is? 

She tears one condom packet from the strip, flips it down smack between my pecs, leans and drops the rest within arm's reach but far enough away we're not likely to migrate over them during the act. I quickly get the square package open and roll the contents onto my tick-tocking cock. And then she's kneeling, very slowly, closer and closer, left knee beside my ribs, right knee coming down on the other side, those breasts hanging full and rich, nipples tantalizingly erect, her torso leaning forward, one hand landing just above my shoulder to brace her, and that face, that face, searching mine like I'm her favorite aisle in the adult toy store ... or maybe something better. 

Then I feel her other hand close around the latex-sheathed cylinder of my dick, and her eyes flare and she starts to lower her hips. 

And just before penetration, I think, Good God, what am I going to do when this is all over and she's done with me? 

* * * 

Her 

I take him into myself way more slowly than gravity wants me to. Way more slowly than the hungry thing inside me, itching for orgasm, wants me to. And it's because that look on his face, the way he stares at me, is even more incredible than the physical rush, even more exhilarating than the drive to get myself off. 

His excitement flares when I grab hold of him, swells when my crotch kisses the tip of his cock, then turns into some kind of disbelief as I open around him and ease my flesh lower and lower, steady and slow, into place around him. I'm not ignoring how it feels, filling myself up with his hot, stiff man-candle - I can't help letting out a gasp of satisfaction, low and breathy. But my brain is as full of his reactions as my cunt is with his dick. 

Six or seven hours ago, I was still out clubbing with Niza. I don't know how many different guys I danced with - sweaty bodies trying to get in close to mine, eyes sizing me up, checking my moves, a couple of them brave enough or maybe douchey enough to get in behind me and dry-hump my ass to let me know how turned on they were, or maybe they figured it would get me turned on. And I went with it and rubbed my crack against them, but I was laughing inside and maybe a couple of times out loud as I got more boozed up toward the end of the night. Some of them were hot, and a week earlier even some of the ones who weren't so hot would have had a chance, especially the way Niza kept pushing me and pushing me and actually getting kind of pissed every time I shrugged one of them off and told her I just wasn't feeling it. Thankfully, she was sloshed enough by midnight that she couldn't keep focused on trying to get me laid, just kept draping herself over one guy after another until one of them got her so worked up she gave up on me and agreed to go home with him and I kissed her and told her to have fun and got myself a cab back to my place. 

And the whole night of music and dancing, I was waiting for this. Waiting for him to be looking at me this way, knowing that it would be better than the way any of the players in the club looked at me. 

Only I had no idea how much better. 

When I'm down, all the way, plugged full of his erection, I just lean there on both hands, dangling my nipples an inch or two from his chest, staring into his eyes. Sooner or later, I think, he's going to grab hold and start moving, and I know I'm going to come really fast once he does. Only the longer I sit there, the more I realize, he's barely even blinking. Every once in a while, those grey eyes shift just a little, like he's switching his attention from my left eye to my right, or something. His chest is rising and falling beneath mine, but everything else is still, because he is fucking hypnotized by my face. I bet I could keep him like this for an hour. A fire sparks and blazes in my belly, right below the ribs, and I smile, knowing I sure as shit don't have the patience to find out. 

He smiles back, and I give a tiny twist of my hips. 

"Oh my god," he groans. 

I drop my mouth to his and start fucking. 

His hands are on me then, all over me. He's thrusting up to match my rhythm. I feel the pressure and glide of his cock, deep as it will go inside me, and I moan at the fiery grind of my clit against his pubic bone. 

"Mmm. Mmmm. Uhh ..." 

His noises make me laugh - that laugh that's all joy, the one you can't help letting out, even though what's going on isn't funny at all, just electrifying and gorgeous. My tits are squashed between us. The nipples feel dizzy at the stimulation of his skin. 

"Yes. Yes. Yes," I whisper, rocking above him with every muscle in my spine trying to keep us tight together while I'm gliding him in and out of me. He's pale - not quite crawled-out-from-a-rock pale, but way less tan than the other two white guys I've been with. I'm not all that dark, but right next to his shoulders, my arms look like I'm straight off a plane from Nigeria. It's beautiful. 

My lips and tongue fumble for his, glide across his cheek to his ear, work their way down to the base of his throat and then lick up and over his Adam's apple until I end up sucking at his chin. He's groaning and caressing me the whole time, palms and fingers working the flesh of my back, my shoulders, my ass, my thighs, never stopping anywhere for long - although my ass seems to be their favorite destination, and the power of his thrusts and the pressure between our groins are all but overwhelming when he's clutching me there and giving me everything he can. 

And I'm right about coming fast. I groan it through my teeth, clenching my jaw: "Nng - nnggg ..." Pleasure strobes up through my body from that spot the two of us melt together, pulsing wilder and higher until it pushes me out of my brain and floats me through the sky into heaven. It's pure white light, not the raunchy colored flashes of the dance floor last night, and the throbbing is so much better than the bass beats of the club. From somewhere far away, I hear his voice. 

"Oh God, bitch, I'm coming!" 

My orgasm isn't over, though, and I barely sense the new pulsation of his cock going off inside me. I'm way up in clouds, hanging inside a lightning bolt. 

"Jesus, oh my God." 

The lightning lets go of me. I float back toward Earth. I realize his dick is still twitching weakly inside my pussy, and that his arms are absolutely crushing me to him as he stays jammed as deep as he'll go. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god, bitch." 

I just laugh. 

The bear-hug relaxes, a little. Nuzzling at one side of his throat, I listen to him moan, feel his hands go from clutching to holding and then eventually to slow, sweet caressing. 

"How did you do that?" he gasps. "How do you do that?" 

I don't have any answer, at least, not any answer I'm going to say out loud. 

I don't know how I did it, but I want to keep doing it forever. 

You're different, this is different, it's just ... so right. 

You change something in me. 

Finally, I say, "Yeah, see, what I did was, I kind of moved my body back and forth so my pussy would slide on and off of you. I heard guys like that." 

He laughs, a laugh that's still full of orgasm-exhaustion, and he lets his eyes close, head down limp against the sheets. His hands are still lazily, helplessly exploring my back. I drop down and rest my forehead against the bed linen. I can feel the heat of his cheek with my ear. 

You feel so fucking good inside me right now. But I only think it, I don't say it out loud. Because I know it's not just about sex. And I'm afraid, if he hears that in my voice, he'll freak out. God, you make me feel so fucking good inside. 

* * * 

Them 

She falls asleep on top of him, blissful and still short on rest from the night before. He lies there a while once he realizes she's slipped off into dreams. There's something about listening to her slow, even breathing that fascinates him. Beneath her weight and heat, he realizes he should be uncomfortable, but he's not. 

He's enthralled. 

Overwhelmed. 

Mesmerized. 

Her head rests between him and the nightstand clock. He has no idea how much time passes before the inevitable happens and he finds himself growing hard within her again. 

Would it be okay to start fucking her while she's still asleep? Sure, of course - I bet she'd love it if I woke her up that way. But he doesn't move. She's still so new, and he's terrified of crossing her boundaries, maybe sparking that mercurial side of hers, firing her to an anger that would make her throw him out and never let him back in, so that he'd never feel this again, never get to look at her sleeping face so close to his own. He does wonder, though. What would that even be like? Would she start responding in her sleep? If I was gentle enough, could I get all the way there with her still unconscious? Could I make her come in her dreams? 

She remains completely under, dreaming about ice cream, sharing a huge heaping sundae with him in the strip mall across from her apartment complex. Completely clothed, no gonads involved. But the hot fudge tastes like sex, and there seems to be an endless supply of maraschino cherries being pulled out of whipped cream and sucked from their stems. Bananas that haven't been split, sliding through oceans of melting vanilla and chocolate. 

When she wakes up, he's shifted them both and lies naked next to her, breathing with a hint of a snore. She puts a hand on his chest and eases her fingers through the hair there. Eventually, her stomach growls, and she shakes him awake, and they go and eat doughnuts and drink cold coffee, and then fuck some more. 




Contrast Ch. 02



And some more. 

And some more. 

Before he knows it, it's noon on Sunday and they're spooning with her facing the clock and his cock still inside her. And she's sighing and telling him he has to go, she's got things, commitments. Even though his genitals have never been this sore from overuse in his entire life, he thinks about saying, Just one more time, and he's pretty sure she'd go along with it. But he doesn't want to make her late for anything, so he sighs too and pulls out and kisses her, long and deep, and starts getting ready to leave. 

"How does your tomorrow night look?" he asks, seeing the hungry way she eyes him as he pulls on his underwear and jeans. 

She wrinkles her upper lip. "Shitty." 

"Tuesday?" 

"Worse. Wednesday and Thursday too. I'm gonna be thinkin' about you and riding my vibrator all week long." 

Once his shirt is on, he gets out his phone, pulls up a map, does a search, adjusts the zoom. 

"Okay, look," he says, walking back to the bed and holding it out. "I picked a spot that's five minutes from my work, and everything on that page is about five minutes from that spot. I can take my lunch hour starting anytime between eleven and one. There someplace on that map you could get to for a nooner?" 

She takes the phone and looks. She's gotten pretty good at superimposing bus routes onto maps even without hitting the public transportation icon. Her school-to-work bus passes within a couple of blocks of an intersection in the northeast corner of the screen. 

With her fingertip on that upper-right corner, she hands the phone back. "Here. I could be there eleven o'clock Tuesday or Thursday, or, uh, twelve-thirty Wednesday." 

He looks at the phone, then back at her. "Could you be there eleven o'clock Tuesday and Thursday? Oh, and twelve-thirty Wednesday?" 

That grin flashes and she laughs. "Yeah, but are you gonna have anything left by Friday night?" 

"I'll eat some oysters for lunch." He kneels to put his shoes on and tie them. "And today I'll drive over there to scope it out and text you an exact spot for Tuesday, okay?" 

"Okay." 

He stands back up, just watching her for a second. She thinks, Tell him something. He thinks, Tell her something. 

"Hey, this -" 

"Look, I -" 

They both stop and laugh. 

"You first," she says. 

His eyes are on fire as he tells her, "This is the best weekend I've had in a long fucking time. You're unbelievable, you know?" 

"Yeah," she says, putting her jaw at a cocky tilt to her bare shoulders. "I do know. But I'm gonna make you learn to believe. And this isn't the best weekend you're going to have for very long." 

He laughs and shakes his head, then turns to go so that he won't throw himself at her again. Naked and bold, she shadows him to the door and presses herself to him one last time before he can open it. They kiss, hot, hard, wet, fervid. Blood rushes where passion and instinct and hormones tell it to. 

"Fuuck ..." she says, breaking loose. "I am so sore." 

"Uh-huh," he says. "Let's just hope we're both recovered by Tuesday." 

I'm not recovering from this anytime soon, she thinks. But out loud, she just says, "Yeah, right, like you're not going to be banging off the whole time between now and then thinking about it." 

His eyebrows go up. "Am I the only one?" 

She grins. "No." 

And then the door opens, and then the door closes, and then they both wonder how they're going to keep their heads on straight for the next forty-eight hours.



Contrast Ch. 03



Author's Note: The story's definitely shaking out to be four chapters, so there's one more after this one. 

For anybody playing catchup: After a chance street meeting, a kind-of-meek white guy and a part-time-college black woman go back to her place and fuck like weasels. Then they agree to begin a just-for-sex, no-names relationship. Their first weekend disappears in a blur of sex. When it ends Sunday afternoon, they try to figure out their schedules, settling on a series of lunch-hour trysts as the only way they can get together most of the week. They decide they have to skip Monday entirely. 

***** 

Him 

Tuesday, I'm waiting in the lobby of the building I texted her about, trying not to tap my foot, trying to nod casually when patients come in the front door and pass me on their way to the primary care practice or the lab office here at ground level, or to the elevators. There's an open flight of stairs on one side of the lobby, and a big potted plant I think about hiding behind so no one will wonder who the pervert is hanging around these medical suites with a hard-on. It's 11:02 when she shows up, backpack across one shoulder. 

"Sign out front says there's gynecologists in here?" she asks, thumb toward the door behind her. "I hope you're not planning to get me in some stirrups. Big-time turnoff." 

My nerves disappear the second I see her, washed away by heat. She's in a black top with long tight sleeves and a swooping neckline, over a black-and-copper chevron skirt that hugs her curves. Moving in close, I pull her to me and say into her ear, "No, I picked it for the parking garage. My car's on the fourth floor in a dark corner. You up for semi-public car sex?" 

It ought to sound cheap and tawdry, saying that. I ought to expect her to go cold, wrinkle her nose. Instead, she does what I somehow knew she was going to do, which is to press herself even tighter to me and give a sexy growl. 

"Only problem with that," she hisses, "is getting outside and to the car before I rip your clothes off and go down on you. I bet the men's room on the OB/gyn floor is closer and emptier." 

"Fuck, you are nasty." I pull back and look to see if she means it. The expression on her face is completely serious. Completely ravenous, too. 

Then she's tugging me by the hand over to a directory near the elevators, the kind with individual slots for changing out the occupant of each office if somebody moves. All the gynecologists' suite numbers start with "2." 

"Whatcha think, stairs or elevator?" Her hand is still in mine while she asks. I like how it feels. 

"Well, the stairs - too exposed. Somebody will definitely see us. And the elevator's probably got a camera in it, plus that's an awfully short ride to -" 

She clenches her hand around mine, just shy of hurting, and then for good measure she knocks the side of her sandaled foot against my loafer. "Asshole. Come on, then. I don't want to wait on the elevator just to go up one floor." 

The stairs make a carpet-muffled drumroll as she tows me up them, fast, some of the steps two at a time. There's a pregnant lady with a stroller waiting in the elevator lobby as we get to the second floor. I try to smile casually when she glances over at the two of us rumbling off the stairs, but her expression looks disapproving. 

Is it that obvious what we're up to? Or maybe she's against interracial dating? 

We steer our way around her to the floor's beige central hallway, where a double-arrowed sign tells us the restrooms are in the same direction as suites 211 to 220. The hand in mine and the ass and thighs in that zig-zag black-and-copper skirt quickly make me forget the priss-faced pregnant elevator-waiting chick. There's no one in the hall we're rushing down, and even better, it takes a bend at the end, with the restrooms around the corner. We're completely out of sight. She pulls me to her and grinds that body up against mine and locks her lips across my mouth. The way her tongue feels, urgent and probing, shoots adrenaline through my entire body. 

It takes her breaking away and pointing her chin at the men's room door for me to remember we're on a schedule. I duck my head in, listen, see that the stall doors are all open. 

"Ready?" I ask with a grin. 

"You have no idea," she says. 

Then we're in, arms around each other, lips merging and gliding, bodies half-dancing and half-stumbling our way across the tiles to the backmost stall. The place has nice bathrooms, granite-tile walls or fake stuff good enough to fool my sex-glazed eyes, with stalls enclosed floor-to-ceiling, no more than a two-inch gap at the top and bottom of the doors. Once we're in the big handicap-friendly one with the lock in place, the visual isolation is perfect, and all we'll have to do is shut up and keep still if we hear the restroom door open in the middle of things. 

Yeah, shut up and keep still in the middle of things. Wanna bet that's going to be a lot harder than it sounds? 

"Okay, fuck," she says quietly, after she's hung her backpack from the stall door's coat-hook, "how we gonna do this? Right off the bat, I am not getting on my knees in here to blow you." 

"Not a problem," I say, pointing at my seam-straining erection. "My coffee stirrer is way past needing foreplay. But I'm good kneeling if you want some." 

Her head shakes and she hikes her skirt to get at the panties underneath, wriggling loose from them in a flash, one hand keeping the chevron fabric up where it lets me see the black curls of her bush and the hint of labia peeking out below. 

"That kiss would have done the trick even if I hadn't been getting myself all hot and bothered on the ... way over here." She drapes her underwear over the top of the backpack - I guess not trusting the coat-hook to be clean enough. "Why don't you drop 'em and have a seat, and then I'll turn around and have a better seat." 

"Kiss me again first," I say, stepping close and grabbing the hem of her skirt to keep it up. 

Her hands are on her hips. "Okay. But bitch wants some cock in her, so make it quick." 

When I put my mouth to hers, though, the bossy swagger disappears and she melts a little, though her hands stay at her waist. I move my palms around to her bare ass and she melts a little more, groaning around my tongue. Then apparently she can't take it anymore, and I feel her grab hold of my belt buckle and get it open. Pretty soon my pants are down and my cock is in her hands, teased and toyed by her stroking. 

"You ready to sit down?" she croons. 

"Uh-huh." 

I use the aluminum side-rails to ease back and down, slow enough that I don't pull away from either her lips or her hands. She keeps kissing me and jacking me until I'm on the throne, and instead of feeling sullied and sordid at the prospect of a toilet fuck, I really do feel like some kind of king. 

Breaking the kiss, she keeps her hands in motion around my shaft, sliding one from root to tip and replacing it with the other, like she's pulling in a rope. Her eyes are carnivorous, and the angle she's leaning at gives me a perfect view of her mahogany cleavage in that tight black top. But I swear there's something on top of the hunger in that stare, too. Something deeper, more vibrant, more encompassing. Fuck, I tell myself, do not fall for this woman. You so do not know how to handle a woman like this. Don't tell yourself she wants to be with you, just be glad she wants to screw your brains out. 

With my knees wide and my ankles trapped in my pants, it's incredibly awkward getting at my pocket to fish out the condom without interrupting the magic she's working with her hands. But I manage it, and she licks her lips and grins once I have it. 

"You're, uh, going to have to stop that for me to get this on," I tell her. But her hands keep gripping and sliding, right, left, right, left. 

"I'm having trouble stopping." 

Right, left, right, left. 

"Jesus, bitch, what am I supposed to make you come with if you keep doing that until I squirt all over your front?" 

Her grin just gets bigger. Right, left, right, left. I groan and clench my hands, the left one into a fist around the condom package, the right one in a death-grip on the metal rail in the wall. 

Right, left, right, left ... I'm not that close, but if I let myself go with it, I will be, and soon. 

She stops, both hands wrapped around my cock, squeezing and relaxing, squeezing again. Her eyes are all over my face. The laugh has disappeared from her smile, replaced by ... what? I have no idea what that smile is telling me. But it's deep. 

Stop it. Stop telling yourself that kind of shit. 

Suddenly, she's standing straight up, hands free and glistening with streaks of pre-cum I've been leaking. She licks one palm, slowly, her gaze still on me. 

"Get that on," she says with a flick of her eyes to the condom. I hurriedly rip the packet open and obey her as she runs her tongue and lips along her fingers and switches to the other hand. By the time she's got them both clean, I'm slouched in the hollow of the toilet seat, rubbered rod pointing straight up. 

She spins around, hikes up her skirt again, backs into place with a leg to either side of me and her gaze locking on mine over one shoulder. 

"Hang onto this for me," she says, indicating the bunched-up skirt about her hips. I do it, freeing up her hands, which go between her wide-set legs, the right hand finding my thigh and the left my cock. Her head drops forward, taking her eyes from my sight as she guides and lowers herself with those hands. 

I shift my gaze down to her tilted pelvis and the lips of her pussy, dropping by inches to touch me, to open around me, to swallow me in with a slow, even glide that ends with both her hands on my knees and my lap full of her ass and the beauty of being inside her again blowing my mind. 

"Uhhhh," she groans as she takes in the last bit of my dick and settles fully down. The heat and fluid grasp of her cunt make it hard to believe there's a condom between her flesh and mine. Then she starts moving, rocking, and I forget that such a thing as a condom even exists. 

"Jesus, stop for a second, would you?" 

She freezes. "What, you don't like that?" 

"No, no, no," I say quickly. "I'm just going to come like a 16-year-old virgin if you don't let me calm down." 

She laughs, and there's relief in that laugh, and it washes away the panic I felt at making her think I wasn't enjoying it. Enjoying her. She wants to please me. It's not just what she can get out of me. God, shut the hell up about that. 

"So tell me when you're calmed down enough you'll come like a 16-year-old with a little practice." 

"I'm good now. I just had to -" 

A perfect, circular motion of her hips makes me gasp. 

"Just had to what?" she asks. 

My hands clutch at her waist, at the soft black fabric of her top and the softer flesh underneath. "Never mind. Let's just fuck." 

"Now you're talking." 

She undulates with the muscles of her legs and her lower back, riding me in strokes of glory and hissing through clenched teeth, "Yeah - uhh, that's it, that's it ..." 

I try to wrap an arm around to finger her clit, but I'm slouched down and she's leaning forward and all I manage is a handful of her belly, lush and sweet below her lifted skirt. Before I can try to shift for a better angle, she slaps at my wrist. 

"I got it," she informs me, still humping powerfully back and forth. "No - ah - no hands ... needed. You wanna touch something, feel free ... to grab a tit or two." 

I'm on that in a heartbeat, and then her breasts are surging in my hands as she moves, plush and round, nipples hard enough to feel even through her bra and shirt. 

"Oh, bitch, you fuck so good," I breathe, the words barely louder than my roaring pulse. "So good ..." 

"Uh-huh. Lemme have this cock. Ah - oh - yes -" 

I can hear our sex rattling the hinges of the toilet seat, echoing in gasps off the tile walls. If anyone comes in, they're going to get an earful. I don't think there's any way either of us can stop. 

"Ngff! Yes!" 

"Aouhh - baby - your cunt ..." 

Her thighs are sliding over mine now, slick with sweat from skin-on-skin contact and exertion. I can hear her getting close - I'm not sure exactly how, but I can hear it. 

"Yes, you fucking tigress, ride me." 

"Oh god ..." 

"Yes, do it, get yourself there - I'm right behind you." 

"Oh god ..." 

Faster and faster, she's trembling with effort and with something else. The nearness of her orgasm makes me glow, builds a rising heat in my belly and in my balls. 

"Yes, come on, come on ..." 

"Oh ... GOD!" 

Her upper body curls forward and she squeezes and throbs around me, every part of her clenched tight as it will go. Grabbing her waist again, I thrust once, twice, each stroke hammering a squeak from her - and then I come, hard, curling forward just like she did so that my chest is flush against her back. 

"Shit -" 

"Ye-esss ..." 

For maybe ten or fifteen seconds, we're clutched together, out of our heads, gasping with the power of our ecstasy. I feel like we're having the same orgasm - that it's one burst of pleasure so large it takes over both our bodies. When we come out of it, she folds forward, panting, head between her knees. 

With one more groan, she says, "That would totally be worth getting arrested for if someone came in here and caught us." 

"No it wouldn't," I manage between exhausted breaths. "If we got arrested we couldn't come back and do this again tomorrow." 

She shakes her head. "Tomorrow I'm fucking you in your car. Only a slut would fuck a guy in the men's room two days in a row." 

"So you're saying we'll come back and do this again Thursday?" 

That gets me a chuckle. 

"No, I was just making an excuse. Next time we come in here, I'm making you screw me in front of the mirror, and if anybody comes in, we're toast." 

My cock swells inside her. "I am so going to some janitor supply company or something and buying a 'closed for repairs' sign for Thursday, then." 

She's suddenly quiet. I wonder if maybe something's gone wrong. Just about the time I open my mouth, though, she says, "Listen ... can I ask you something?" 

Oh, shit. Yes. Yes, anything. 

"Uh, sure." 

"How long you think we can keep this up?" 

There's a pounding in my chest before she even finishes the question. I have no idea what to say. No idea what she wants me to say. In the silence while my brain scrambles for an answer, someone flushes in the ladies' room next door. I feel like I'm spinning down the bowl with that water. 

But before I can drown, she steps in and fishes me out: "'Coz I've got to get on the pill if it's gonna be much longer. This condom shit is for the birds." 

"Yeah, totally. The pill. I don't know how those prescriptions work, but have them write a big one. However big you can get them to." 

She takes a deep, satisfied breath. Her face is still hidden from my view, but I can tell she's smiling. 

I smile too. Suddenly the future, at least for a while, isn't just the future. 

It's our future. 

The idea just about makes me come again. 

Her 

Car sex in a dark parking garage Wednesday. More bathroom sex Thursday - and he really does get a "closed for repairs sign" so we can fuck in front of the mirrors, with my tits hanging out and way more noise than we ought to make. The store calls me for an extra shift Friday night, and I can't turn it down because there's a copay on the birth-control prescription, which I got by showing up early Thursday to one of the gynecologists' offices at our hookup spot. Saturday morning he's got some thing he can't get out of, Saturday afternoon I shop with Niza, then we hang at my place a while. Thankfully, she's going on a date that night and takes off around four o'clock. 

Soon as she's out the door, I get my phone and hit "Fuck-Man" on my favorites. He answers on the first ring. 

"Hey," he says. I can't tell from the connection whether it's a casual "hey" or a damn-I-want-to-bone-you "hey," but I want to think he's been sitting there with his phone out, waiting. 

"My thing is done," I tell him. "Is your thing done?" 

"Bitch, my thing is so done." 

I guess it was a damn-I-want-to-bone-you "hey" after all. 

"You want to get over here?" 

"Would it be creepy if I said I was already waiting at the coffee shop around the corner?" 

"Yes. Are you?" 

"Yes." 

"Next time, wait in my parking lot. If you're gonna be creepy, go all in. Now hang up and get your ass to my place and your dick inside me." 

Beep. The line goes dead. I'm glad, because I'm breathing so hard, no way was I going to be able to keep sounding like I had it together. 

I spent the whole shift last night wondering if I'd have the guts to ask him his name today. I spent the whole morning masturbating and imagining him calling mine out with his cock going off inside me. I spent the whole afternoon with Niza wondering how she'd react if she knew I hadn't told her a guy was coming over to fuck me the minute she walked out the door. 

She's been on me so hard to find a man, maybe after she got done throwing a fit, she'd be happy for me. Yeah, maybe. Until she found out he was a white guy. Then she'd totally wig, and after she settled down, there'd be that look in her eyes, the same one from when she first showed up at the Hilliards' place. The "go-to-hell-because-I-do-not-trust-anybody-in-the-whole-fucking-world" look. The "they-said-they-were-putting-me-somewhere-I'd-be-safe-those-goddamnshit-bastards-and-now-they're-putting-me-somewhere-else-and-saying-it-again-so-fuck-you-if-you-think-I'm-listening-to-a-goddamn-word-you-say" look. It took three months sharing a bedroom and talking to her every day to get that look to mostly go away, and a year and a half and us graduating and leaving the foster program and me still sticking by her for it to finally disappear. I do not want to see that look again. 

But when the knock comes barely a minute after I call him, I stop worrying. 

I want what's on the other side of that door - and if Niza won't let me have what I want, it's time for her to grow up. 

Them 

Four months in, they've done everything that can be done in every corner of her apartment, every position, every orifice, with most of the foods in the refrigerator and a few of the household appliances. None of it is old, and sometimes they go through three or four bouts of straight missionary in a night with no need to change things up at all. She's been on the pill since week three, by which point they'd gone through almost four boxes of condoms - twelve packs, not the little pocket-friendly three-rubber size. 

They are still nameless to each other, supposedly just a cunt and a cock, a pair of legs to be spread and a stiff prick to ride into orgasmic heaven. They laugh and play and grope in between, their conversations almost exclusively about the sex they've had, the sex they plan to have, the sex they've dreamed of having, the gaps in their schedules where sex can be made to fit, and just sex in general. Every few weeks one of them will slide toward the personal - "We're still good this way, right? Just two people screwing?" The answer is always something like, "Shit, we'd be crazy to change anything." 

But at work, he can't stop thinking about her face, her expressions, the subtle movements of her lips when she is amused or concentrating or pausing to think about a question. And in class, she keeps imagining where he might be from, what he does for a living, whether he might be having the same kinds of thoughts about her. 




Contrast Ch. 03



When their calendars align, he's at her place four or five times a week, fucking her for hours on end. When he has to work late, or she's on a night shift, or one of them can no longer put off family or friends, they might go three days without hitting it, but by the fourth they're finding some way to make it work, whether on his lunch hour or in the brief gap between her classes and her job, whether at her apartment or in whatever secluded back room they can find in a business or office building that lies along her bus route. 

He has never come into the same woman so many times, not even Ariel, who'd been his fiancée for a brief six months after two years of dating. 

Since offering herself up to him that fateful morning, she has achieved more orgasms from intercourse than with all of her previous sex partners put together. 

They both exist in a state of constant amazement that they have found this thing, this treasure, that absorbs virtually their every waking thought. 

On a Saturday morning, they wake up in her bed. 

"Uhhh," she moans as she rolls over and cracks her eyes to see sunlight sneaking its way in past the blinds. His hand finds her hip beneath the sheets and slides up it, past her waist, around her ribs to cup one breast. She feels his lips on her shoulder, covers his fondling hand with her own, turns her face to receive a slow, simple kiss. When it breaks, she finds herself staring into his grey eyes. "Goddamn," she says. "How many times was that last night?" 

He smiles and kisses her again, their tongues meeting in the less-than-perfect taste of two mouths that have spent an entire night ripening their respective coatings of sex juices. The flavor does not bother either of them. 

"I don't know," he says. "I fell asleep after five. Did you wake me up by sucking my cock in the middle of the night?" 

"Yeah." 

"Okay, so if that wasn't a dream, did I wake you up by getting in you from behind?" 

"Uh-huh. But I think we both fell asleep without coming. Does that one count?" 

He counts steps, pressing a different finger into her breast with each one. "Erection, penetration, motion, moaning. I think that's enough to count as sex even without any orgasms." 

"All right, then, that's seven, right? I'm thinking seven's a record. What do we do to celebrate a new record?" 

He raises an eyebrow. "We could fuck." 

The pulse of his cock against her ass cheek almost makes her want it, but she scoots away instead and sits up at the edge of the mattress to stretch. "Mmfff. We could, but I am raw and hungry and I need to piss like a motherfucker." 

He laughs and raises the sheets to look down at himself. "I was mostly joking. I think it could use a couple more hours' worth of a break." 

Standing, she says, "Then you probably don't want to get in the shower with me, because I will soap the shit out of that thing until whatever spunk is left in your balls squirts onto my tits." 

"I don't think there's enough for a squirt," he replies, rolling onto his back. "Maybe a trickle. The rest is inside you already." 

"Tell me about it," she says, looking down at her sore and cum-leaking vagina. 

While she's eyeing herself, he's looking at her one tattoo, a full moon nestled in clouds, the whole thing no larger than a quarter, just above her right hip. "You go ahead and get cleaned up. I'll switch out with you when you're done. Then maybe we can go out for breakfast to celebrate." 

She throws a look at him. They don't eat out much, usually just order pizza or Chinese and fuck at her kitchen table while eating it. The fact that he likes mushrooms in both is one of the few things she knows about him. 

But his eyes have closed, so she can't see if he means anything significant in making the invitation. She heads into the bathroom. 

Between her shower and his shower and her hair and getting dressed, it's forty-five minutes before they're ready, and she hasn't put on any makeup yet. 

"We going someplace nice?" she asks from the bathroom door, waving her compact. 

He loves the way she looks with nothing on her face. The smooth, deep, even color of her skin, nothing on her cheeks to accent their curves, no eye-shadow to vamp her lids from naturally beautiful to carnally provocative. He speaks without thinking. 

"If you're there, it's going to be nice no matter where we go." 

She feels herself flush. "You forgot to put the word 'bitch' in there somewhere, dumbass." 

"Okay, you're the one said she was hungry, bitch," he tells her, grinning. "So put the makeup down and let's fucking go eat." 

On the way down the stairs, he watches her ass in its tight denim skirt, thinking it may be the same one she wore that first time he saw her. But she's got a lot of denim skirts, as far as he can tell, and the top today isn't the camo tank but a sunflower tube top. That top is the main reason he keeps his eyes on her tush - if he watches her bare, dark shoulders above its golden rim, he's going to grab them and pull her to him and put his chin over her shoulder to stare down her cleavage while he fondles her. 

"Who's driving?" he asks as they reach the parking lot. He's pretty sure she doesn't have a car, and she's pretty sure he knows it. But their bargain is to keep as much personal information back as they can, so on the rare occasions when they use transportation, he always gives her the opportunity to maintain the uncertainty. 

"You drive," she says casually. "If you're sure we gotta drive somewhere. I'm good with the Mexican place across the street there." 

He shakes his head. "That's where I was heading the day we first met. I got detoured from that place, and I like the detour. I'm damn sure not ready for it to be over." 

She feels odd in her chest at the words. He's not saying anything out of the ordinary for them. They're a thing, a fling, a temporary craziness that can't possibly last. And he was emphatic there about not being ready for it to be over. That's good, right? Plus, he was taking her out to breakfast. So why did the word "detour" make her feel ... whatever it was that it made her feel? 

He notices she's quiet. She knows his car, she's headed for it through the lot. She's not usually a quiet person. What the fuck, dude. "Detour?" Something inconvenient and in the way? What an asshole. He hadn't meant it that way at all - he'd meant that she'd changed something in him and he never wanted to get back to where he'd been going that morning. 

He catches up to her, sneaks a hand around her elbow, pulls back gently to stop her and turn her around. She looks uncertain, but he does not hesitate. His arms go around her and he puts everything he can into a kiss - everything he's not allowed to say, everything he's not allowed to ask. 

She kisses back the same way. It ends when her stomach growls loud enough for both of them to hear. They laugh and get into his car. Sore pussy or no sore pussy, she's wet and electrified as she sits beside him watching the familiar stores and strips and apartment complexes of her street roll by. 

Breakfast is unexceptional. He tells her to point out anything that looks good, she stops him at the pancake place two blocks down, not because it looks good but because she's ravenous. She orders sausage, biscuits and gravy, bacon, eggs. He gets a big plate of waffles. They trade bites, feeding each other across the table. There's nothing special about any of the food, they talk less than they normally do when eating, probably because all their conversations are about sex, and there are people in the booths to either side, an old couple behind him and a family behind her. 

She can't remember a breakfast she has enjoyed more. He eats as slowly as he can to draw it out as much as possible. 

When they're both full and the server has cleared away their plates, he says, "So we've got all day now. I don't think we can top the new record. What should we do?" 

Tell me your name. 

"You know what we've never done," she says instead, "we've never done it to music." 

He sips at the last bit of his coffee. Is she deliberately testing the line? 

"True," he says, putting the cup down. "But whose would we use? And you know, for some people, music is pretty personal." 

That's the whole idea. 

She shrugs. "I don't think one CD's going to tell you my life story. Hell, it might even be a CD somebody left in my apartment that's not my sound at all." 

He nods slowly. "Cool. That's actually a really good idea." 

She grins, her teeth shining and perfect between supple lips. They pay up, they leave. He's simmering with anticipation - not only has he never done her to music, he's never done anyone with a soundtrack. Ariel was extremely conventional, and he'd only gone to bed with one girlfriend before her. Since then ... nothing had lasted more than a few weeks. Until now. 

As they pull out of the parking lot, she's wondering what she should put on once they get home. He won't want her to read off a bunch of possibilities for them to choose from together, won't want them to be delving with one another into her musical tastes. Or maybe he wants it like I want it, but he can't say so either. 

She's just about worked up the courage to put on her Best of Debussy CD - not sexy enough? too beautiful? too likely to make her cry in the middle? - when she realizes they're passing her complex. 

"Where're we going?" 

"You'll see." 

They pull into a shopping strip. He wheels his aging Nissan into a spot in front of a buy-sell-trade CD shop. Debussy fades from her like a moonset, but ... he's charged up, eager, quickened by some plan that's put a wickedly pleased smile on his face. She lets her disappointment be pulled into curiosity. Is he going to look for some fave of his? What's playing in that head? 

The shop is small, a little dim, just recently opened for Saturday-morning business. The only person in it is the college-age clerk, a wiry kid with glasses, fuzzy hair, and the kind of chin beard only the young or the genuinely eclectic could pull off. The kid looks up from his work sorting jewel cases just long enough to give a casual wave of acknowledgment, then gets back to work. 

"Hey, could we get a little help here?" 

The kid looks up again at the request, seemingly indifferent about being interrupted and asked to exert himself. 

"Sure," chin-beard says, coming round from behind the counter. "What d'ya need?" 

"I want you to pick out four CDs for us, any four, whatever you want. The only guidance I'm going to give you is, we want something we can fuck to." 

"Whoa." The kid's eyebrows go up above his glasses, though the rest of his face remains blank. He reaches up and scratches behind one ear. "Yeah, uh, lemme see what I can do." 

She lets a stifled laugh escape as the clerk moves off. "You're so bad. Poor kid..." 

"Okay, so here's the deal," he says. "We can each veto one CD and have him pick something else, but only once. We don't tell him why we're vetoing, we just ask him to put that one back and choose something else. Then we're stuck with what he brings back." 

She nods, smiling, then raises an eyebrow. "What if he's some kind of fucking Lawrence Welk freak, or decides to be a prick and sticks us with a bunch of Barney sing-along CDs?" 

"Then I won't be able to get it up and our genitals will have a little more of the day to recover from last night." 

"Don't you threaten me with not getting it up," she says, stepping close and running fingernails down his chest. Her eyes hold his with a fire of promise, though he can't help noticing the dark swells of her breasts within that golden tube-top at the edge of his vision. "I will make you eat those words and all kindsa other things besides." 

He bends and kisses her, gets a hand into the small of her back, bare and cool between the tube top and the waistband of her skirt. His tongue is in her mouth, his other hand slides up her hip and over and up her belly and onto the rich curve of one breast within her top. 

The clerk clears his throat. 

He's brought back four CDs: a collection of swing era hits, Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, the Basil Poledouris soundtrack to Conan the Barbarian, and something by a rapper whose name is apparently so scurrilous that there's an Explicit Lyrics sticker plastered across it. 

Scheherazade, Christ, he thinks as the clerk hands the CDs over. It's one of the few classical pieces he really knows, and he's almost certain he should veto it. The raw, mournful emotion of it gets him every time he listens to his copy, and the last thing he'd want would be to break out in tears in the middle of sex with her. But then the tiding, oceanic rhythms of the suite start to flow through his memory, and he imagines their bodies sliding together in time to that beauty, and his throat goes dry and he knows he has to come inside her with this music playing, tears or not. 

She's pissed at the rap CD. She likes her share of hip-hop, but can't stand the hardcore bitches-and-hos gangsta shit. He does get off calling me his bitch, though, doesn't he, she thinks. He loves doing that white on black nasty, I know he does. And it don't get much nastier than this crap. What the fuck, just go with it. 

In the car, though, she makes like she's offended, shuffling through the CDs and holding up the rap one. "Motherfucking racist little shit. Look at this! Three CDs for the white boy and one for his N-word ho." 

He glances at her to see if she's really mad, but he can't tell. "Why didn't you veto it, then?" 

She gives him a completely blank face, then raises her eyebrows. "Well, maybe coz I like it. Or maybe because I just want to see if your nice white weenie gets up for the stuff, or goes limp from it." 

There's enough humor in her voice for him to relax. "We'll see. And anyway, maybe he wasn't being racist. Maybe it's what he fucks his girlfriend to." 

That word shivers right through her: girlfriend. 

"What's that mean, exactly?" 

"Huh?" They're almost back to her complex now. "I don't get you." 

"His girlfriend. The way you said the 'his,' sounds like you're making a reference to somebody else having a girlfriend too." 

"Oh. Oh, you mean was I saying that you're ..." He knows that without having thought about it, that was exactly what he was saying. He wonders if his face is going red. "No, I just meant that he must assume we're an item, I wasn't saying I ..." 

She makes a lazy, overhand wave at him and settles back in her seat. 

Inside the apartment, she locks the door and asks, "How we gonna decide what to put on first?" 

"Here," he says, taking the discs. He puts them behind his back, mixes them around. "Pick a number between one and four." 

"Four." 

He brings the stack out, peels off the top three as he counts. "One, two, three ..." 

The rap disc is on the bottom. 

Aw, shit, she thinks. 

Shit and damn, he thinks. He would have vetoed the thing if he hadn't been worried it would look as racist as the clerk picking it out in the first place. 

"So let's go, then," she says, taking it from his hand and marching over to the boom box beside her television. "Where we gonna do this?" 

"Uh, I'm guessing this is more on-the-couch or maybe on-the-floor music, not in-the-bed." 

"Baby, I'm guessing this is up-one-side-and-down-the-other, no-place-is-safe music, and we're going to do some serious migrating while it's on or else we're going to have to shut it off and switch to something else." 

"Hit play then, and come over here so I can peel that top off of you." 

She hovers her finger over the button and waits, one eyebrow raised. 

"What?" In his head, he's already yanking that golden band down to pop her full, ripe tits out in the open, so it takes him a second to remember. "Oh, right. I mean, bitch." 

She grins. Her finger goes down. She cranks the volume. 

Snaking, looped synthesizers and a plosive, throbbing bass ejaculate from the speakers. She struts toward him, her hips rolling extra-slow as concussive profanity jumps out on top of the ... music. His hands are itching to get at that tube-top. Halfway to him, she stops and turns, pelvis still rotating elliptically at the base of her spine. She watches him over her shoulder, hands going to the side-seams of her skirt, dragging them up, dragging the hem skyward, revealing inch after inch of her sleek, round, brown legs. 

Only in the very back of his mind does it click how fantastically offensive the lyrics of the song are. The rest of him is fully absorbed in the grinding fullness of her ass, circling in front of him to that beat as her skirt climbs higher along those unbelievable thighs. He takes a step toward her, but she puts a hand straight out, palming him into immobility. The hand goes back to the denim of her skirt. Her eyes are narrowed and her lips turned up in a deliriously wicked smile. Up and up and up goes the skirt. 

Of course she doesn't have anything on underneath it. Why would she? 

The lips of her cunt wink in and out of view with each slow rotation of her ass, each slurred cycle of the synth loops, each rattling line of n- and ho- and bitch-filled poetry spilling out of the speakers. He can almost see them glistening wetter and wetter every time they surge into view. 

She steps back toward him, languidly, patiently, pushing that beautiful ass closer and closer to him, never breaking its motion loose from the pounding rhythm. She is eight feet away now. 

"Undo your belt buckle." 

He does what she says. His cock is begging to be let loose anyway, painfully hard within his briefs. 

Six feet away. A bead of moisture actually breaks loose and runs down the inside of her thigh. 

"The button," she says. 

He unsnaps it. 

Four feet away, just out of arm's reach. She stops closing in, but continues to roll her gorgeous butt and pussy at him, ever-so-subtly squatting lower with each circle. 

"Unzip." 

He does. Words hit him suddenly from the boom box: "Fuckin' you, and fuckin', and fuckin' up your -" 

Her knees are to the ground now, and one hand. The other is spread across her tailbone, middle finger pointing straight down her crack. 

"Get them down." 

He shoves his pants to mid-thigh, popping his cock loose so that it waves straight out toward her. 

She licks her lips. "Ooh, do I like the look of that. Closer." 

He drops to his knees, moves one and then the other of them forward. Her ass is still grinding, near enough to touch now, but he doesn't, because she hasn't told him to. She's like a cobra, the music like a snake-charmer's flute, both of them mesmerizing him. 

"Get it in me," she says. "No hands." 

They've played "no hands" before, but never with her cunt twisting and circling like it is now. He edges closer, his prick jutting stiff and straight toward her. That finger down her ass crack beckons him. His calves slide up along hers. His half-lowered pants make it awkward to get in place. She rolls and rolls and rolls her hips, grinning across her shoulder in a challenge. The music is filthy. It tugs him toward her in throbs. 

"pumpin' this ho-" 

Jesus, do people really write these lyrics? 

But even as the thought flits through his mind, it's gone again, and the leering words turn back to noise, below the level of consciousness, as her latest twist of the hips brushes one ass-cheek against his tip. 

He moves one knee forward, tilting his pelvis down on that side, angling his steam-tempered steel rod for her orbiting hole, but only succeeding in jabbing a streak of pre-cum along the juncture of her ass and thigh. He tries circling with her and immediately proves the stereotype about white guys having shit for rhythm. She laughs and drops from a rotation every four beats to one every eight. 




Contrast Ch. 03



The slower speed lets him get his head against her slit, and suddenly she's swirling him, wetting the tight crown of his cock with each roll of her hips but never quite lining up enough for him to push straight in. He's fighting himself to keep from grabbing her by the waist and jamming his dick all the way up her snatch. She's having a blast, loving the feel of that bulb of his just peeking its way in between her lips as she swivels. His face keeps flipping between frustration that he can't get full penetration and quivering pleasure at the way she's treating his tip. She can't help but cackle. 

At last she relents and drives her ass directly back, engulfing him in one decisive stroke that yanks a startled, stereo grunt from them both. 

"Fuck me hard," she gasps. But he's already digging his fingers into her waist and slamming away. 

"Jesus, your cunt," he cries out. "Fuckingholyshit - pussy!" 

"Bone me, white boy, ngh ... yeah - " 

She's working her tail hard to gobble his rod into the hungry throat of her vagina. With her head hanging down, she focuses her whole concentration below her waist, to her movements, to her timing, to the scrape of his jeans against her thighs and the slap of his groin against her twat. He feels enormous inside her, and with every thrust he feels even bigger. She can't figure out why it's always like this - he looks pretty average compared to other guys she's had. The music is driving them together in time, words so crude it's like they're being dared to reach the nastiest level of fucking they can get to. 

"Uhhh ... push it ..." 

Pistoning in and out of her wet, clutching cunt, he realizes he's forgotten all about her golden tube-top and the sweet brown pillows inside it. Suddenly, he has to have them, and his hands sweep from her waist down under her abdomen to cup and squeeze those tits for just an instant before yanking the elastic fabric back. Her full dark breasts spill loose and make a single swing forward and back before he catches them in his hands, trapping the nipples, hard, long, heavenly, between two fingers on each side. 

"God I love these." 

"Mmm-hmm. Tug them. Oooh!" He's pulling and kneading all at once, not missing a beat with his hips, driving himself forward and into her, groaning at the feel of her body. Over and over, his dick plunges through her sopping wetness, a hard, hot intrusion of flesh through flesh, her yielding creaminess welcoming him, his rigid wonder exulting in the blissful kiss enfolding it. 

Suddenly, she drags herself forward, breaking loose and slipping her snatch off of him. 

"Get on your back," she pants. "I need you to suck my tits while I fuck you." 

He rolls over instantly. The rapper only gets out an obscenity and a half before she's on him, angling her hips, sinking her cunt to the hilt around him. 

"Uah! Fuck!" he says, driving up against her as best he can. She's got all her weight on his crotch, though, grinding her clit into his pubes, milking him with a steady, rocking slide of her pelvis. Her mouth is on his, full and wet and tongueing, her back curled, her pussy gripping and sucking at his shaft with greedy muscular contractions. Then she breaks the kiss and leans forward, aiming one nipple straight for his lips. They close around its taut, projecting shape and pull the areola in after it with just the right amount of suction. The tip of his tongue circles and caresses in time with the beat, in time with her gliding hips. 

"Yesss," she hisses. "Suck that tit ..." 

His swollen pole juts up inside her, pointing at her womb, promising a fertile fountain if she just rides it a little while longer. Her dripping hole glissades around him, demanding his cum with sweet, sweeping oscillations of pleasure. 

"oh," he says after a few minutes. "oh ... OH!" 

"Not yet, goddamnit," she growls, sitting down hard and clamping her pussy muscles fiercely, as though to squeeze his dick so tight nothing can get out. "Keep sucking!" 

"Mmm, mmm," he hums around her nipple, as close to orgasm as he's ever been without actually shooting his wad. His balls feel like she's trapped them in amber, preserved forever on the edge of delirious explosion. She holds herself in place, a dusky sculpture of unrelenting muscle clothed in soft flesh and skin. Slowly, his almost-orgasm recedes. His mind rises, partly, from the glorious glow in his cock back up his spine to his head, where the sensation of her tit in his mouth ever-so-gradually replaces the feel of her snatch around his shaft at the forefront of his consciousness. 

"You settled back down?" she asks. 

"Mm-hmm," he replies, still suckling. 

"Ready to get on top and plow me with my legs around you?" 

"Fuck, yes." 

As quick as that, she rolls away and worms backward across the carpet to the center of the room. Her legs draw up and open, sliding her skirt up onto her belly to show off the glistening gate of her labia and clit-hood. Raised up on her elbows, she watches him, unblinking. 

"Come on, then. I'm ready to cum." 

He takes just a second to shuck his pants and shirt, then crawls up between her luscious thighs. Too tempted to just pass them by, he draws his tongue all the way up and along her right one, leaving a trail of saliva and making her shudder. From there, without warning, he seals his mouth around her pussy and penetrates it with the tip of his tongue. 

"Shit! Oh, fuck," she says, bucking up against him. Her hands desperately find his ears and tug him forward - though not before he licks a circle around her clit and spends a moment sucking it between his lips. "No, no, fuck me!" 

He alligators forward and buries his cock in her with a single, swift stroke. 

"UHHhh!" she cries. 

"Oh, bitch, that is good." He holds himself in place a moment, both of them moaning in pleasure. Then he starts to pump. 

"Yeahhhhh," she says, hooking her legs up and around to pull him in harder with her heels. "Oh, yeah, fuck me like that." 

The blood roars in his ears almost too loud for him to hear the music. The beat is there, though, impelling every thrust of his cock into her, driving the tempo of her rolling hips. 

"Oh, my god," he says. "Uhhh!" 

Her nails drag their way down his spine. Her heels yank at his ass, demanding him deeper and deeper inside her, harder and harder against her. There's a coal-hot glow starting where he rams against her mound; she gasps and concentrates on its heat. 

"Nnf! Nnf!" He's pounding her as hard as he can. 

"Ahhhh, yessss, fuck me!" 

"Oh - oh shit -" 

"Do it! I'm there! Blow it into me!" 

White-hot ecstasy spirals her out of her head to the throbbing beat of the music. His cock surges and then detonates inside of her, jetting out torrents of fluid joy, great plumes of seed to flood her depths in alabaster honey. 

"Yes, FUCK!" she shouts. 

"Uhhh, God, baby -" Again, and then again, and then again, he spurts deep into her, unable to believe how long it lasts. "Ohhhhhh ..." 

At last, they collapse, panting and dripping sweat into the carpet beneath them, holding tight in the heated ease of post-orgasmic bliss, settling, breaths slowing - and then, together, laughing at the pornographic ravings that still rattle out of her boom box. 

"So," he says at last, "still mad at that racist clerk?" 

"Hah ... ohhh ..." she puts a hand to her forehead, spent and sated. "If he was here, I'd kiss him." 

"Well he's not, so you'll have to settle for me." 

They look each other in the eyes. 

Everything is perfect. 

His mouth covers hers, and they swim into the darkness of a kiss.



Contrast Ch. 04



This is the last chapter. I'd like to thank everybody for reading, and I'd especially like to thank DonnaBeck for doing a first read before I posted this chapter and the previous one. She's a wonderful writer with a great sense of story and character, and "Contrast" is much better due to her holding my feet to the fire on a couple of things. 

The story so far: After a chance street meeting, a kind-of-meek white guy and a part-time-college black woman go back to her place and fuck like weasels. Then they agree to begin a just-for-sex, no-names relationship. What they expect to be a few days or weeks of a hot-and-heavy fling turns into months, and their constant intimacy brings both of them to a place much more emotional than they had planned. The rules of their game are clear and straightforward - no names, no personal details. But with every erotic encounter, something deeper and more powerful challenges their resolve to stick to that agreement ... 

* * * 

Him 

The light is dim, one lamp across the room glowing at its lowest setting. She's on her elbows and knees in the middle of the bed, and I'm three strokes into fucking her in the ass ... when the phone rings. 

God damn it. 

We've done anal before, but it's rare. Maybe five times in the whole six months. So it's special - I mean, everything is special, every time is amazing and unique and its own mind-blowing experience ... but the butt sex is always over the top. Especially the penetration and the first few thrusts after that, when every push I make into her brings an explosive, animalistic grunt from her throat. 

So the ring-tone's chipper little I-don't-give-a-fuck-if-I'm-interrupting-anything tune is even more aggravating than it ordinarily would be. 

"Guh," she says, "don't stop ..." 

I pull back with the tight-ring squeeze of her asshole sucking at my shaft, slowly revealing its veined length and glistening coat of lube. It's not that hard to ignore the ringing. 

"oh," she says, "ohhh ..." 

Then "NGH!" as I load myself back into her, and "Yeahhhhh" as I clutch her waist and hold the stroke deep. 

Doo-do-dee-doo-de-do, diddle-oo-dee-do-de-doo. This isn't the first time one of us has gotten a call during sex, but it's the first time we've had a precious in-through-the-out-door moment interrupted. I really need to remember to put the damn thing on vibrate only. 

Two more strokes, and I'm barely conscious of the annoying loop of electronica. Another two strokes after that, it finally gives up. 

Her forceful gasps have gone to moans now as she moves with me in cyclical flesh-waves, breasts swinging free beneath her, forehead rolling against the sheets. 

"Faster," she breaths. "Harder." 

My hands squeeze deeper into the cushioning flesh of her waist. I bring up my speed, add another notch of power. 

"UH! God, yes!" 

For a maybe a minute, definitely no more than that, we pound ourselves together, her gorgeous, full, round bottom swallowing me up, letting me loose, swallowing me up again. 

Then. 

Doo-do-dee-doo-de-do, diddle-oo-dee-do-de-doo. 

I say it out loud this time: "God damn it." 

She laughs, but something about the dainty synthesized melody infuriates me and gives my next thrust a nitro-boost of anger. 

"UHH!" The gutteral intensity of her response sparks and sizzles a crossfire with the phone-hate in my brain, and I go into overdrive, every thrust a punch of revenge against whoever is on the other end of that line. 

Damn 

"Eee!" 

you 

"uh - uhh -" 

you 

"Yes, honey, fuck me!" 

inconsiderate 

"Oh god -" 

sack 

"I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." 

of 

"UHHhhuuAAAHH!!" 

She's screaming, contorting, smacking one hand down against the mattress, and out of nowhere, my brain thinks - 

Oh. What if it's the call. 

I go completely still. She's panting, face buried in the sheets, hands clenched into fists. I feel the rhythmic throb of her orgasm clamping the sphincter of her anus around me in fierce pulsations. The phone has gone silent. 

If it's Gabe, he'll keep calling. He wouldn't text me something like that. 

Hesitantly, I take an experimental stroke out and in. She quivers and trembles and makes the most fantastic vibrating whimper in her throat. 

The phone rings again. 

* * * 

Her 

I have just had the most incredible motherfucking ass-gasm of my life, so hearing another call on his phone is nothing but hilarious to me. I laugh and I shake and I open my mouth to say, "Aren't you going to get that?" 

But then I realize he's stopped again, and his hands are limp at my waist like he's forgotten me. And when I lift up and turn my head to see what's going on, he's got a look on his face that says something is very, very fucked up. 

"Do you need to get that?" I ask, all the sarcasm I was about to lay on him suddenly gone. "It's okay." 

He pulls out and rolls off of the bed. Something's wrong with his breathing. Without knowing why, I'm terrified for him. I turn over to track him as he stands up, bends over, picks up his jeans, fishes in one of the pockets for that ridiculous sing-song noisemaker. 

In the glow of the screen, I see his eyes recognize the phone number. Then they squeeze closed and he swallows before hitting the answer button. 

"Gabe." 

Faint and buzzing, that ear-muffled other-end-of-a-conversation sound is all that reaches me. 

"Okay," he tells Gabe, whoever that is. His voice is hollow and unsteady. "How long ago? Uh-huh." 

The mattress shakes as he slumps down to sit on it. "Did you call Susie yet? I can, if you're - no, sure. I just don't want you to feel like you have to take care of everything. Uh-huh. No, I know. Thanks. That's why you were always the favorite son, Gabe - you have this kind of shit under control. Look, man, I ... what? Okay, tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah. Love you too." 

As he punches the hang-up circle, tosses his phone away to land on his jeans, and puts his face in both hands, I crawl over to him, wanting to help but not sure if I'm allowed to. I don't know this man's name, but now ... he has, what, a brother or a cousin named Gabe, and a sister, maybe - Susan - and someone has just died, probably his mother or his dad. 

I know what that's like. Except the brother and sister part. 

Maybe our agreement means our lives aren't supposed to touch like this, but I can't keep my hands off his shoulders, and even though I don't hear him sobbing, I feel it, and I move in close and put my cheek against his warm, trembling back and slide my hand around onto his chest. 

We're like that for long enough that I realize I'm smelling my ass-juice on his dick, and it pisses me off that my brain even notices it, because every single brain-cell that I own ought to be trying to figure out how to make him feel better, even though I also know, completely, that there's no way for me to do that. 

Finally, he takes a few deep breaths and straightens a little, hands sliding together as he pulls them away from his face. 

"I'm sorry," he says in a thick voice. "I'm sorry about that, I -" 

"Shut up," I say, quietly, squeezing my hand into his chest. "Tell me what you need. Do you need to go? Do you need me to hold you? Do you want me to try taking your mind off it?" 

It takes a couple more uneven breaths for him to answer me. 

"Just ... lie down with me, okay?" 

With a nod, I kiss his shoulder and slide across the sheets to make room. 

Then we curl together on my bed, pressed together but completely still, and I have never known that a place could hurt so much and be so wonderful at the same time. 

* * * 

Them 

A month later, their routine is more or less back to normal. Except that instead of occasionally holding her quietly after sex and thinking, This is almost better than the actual sex, he now thinks it all the time. With no "almost." 

And instead of thinking, Should I, or shouldn't I? Should I, or shouldn't I? about the idea of asking him for more, asking for them to share names, to learn each other, she finds herself thinking, How much longer will I be able to stop myself? 

He comes over one Thursday after work with a bag of takeout Chinese. After kissing for a couple minutes just inside the door, they sit at her little round kitchen table and eat sesame chicken and moo goo gai pan straight out of the cartons, passing them back and forth. Occasionally she catches a mushroom in her chopsticks and holds it out for him to snag from their bamboo grip with his teeth. Sometimes teasing him by pulling it back at the last moment, which he doesn't mind because it forces him to lean closer to a fantastic view of the cleavage within her tight blue tank top, unhampered by any bra. 

He's thinking she's quieter than usual. She's sitting with her heart pounding because she's done something wrong. Deliberately. On the nightstand beside her bed there's a book - her favorite book. It shouldn't be there, and all through the Chinese food she's on the verge of excusing herself for a second to go in and put it back on its shelf. It's part of who she is, and if he sees it and asks about it and she tells him even a little bit, he'll know so much more about her than he does right now. At least, that was her plan when she put it there. 

Is she playing mysterious? he wonders. Their chairs are close, her thigh touching his. Sometimes the mushrooms come circling around from his right side as she loops her arm across his shoulders and snuggles close enough to press one breast against his left bicep. She watches him closely as he turns his head to take the offered bite, and she's still watching closely when he turns back and puckers for a quick kiss before chewing. Maybe she's just looking to see if I'm okay. 

The hole where his mom used to be isn't filled in yet (and won't ever be). But it's mostly a part of his internal landscape now, something that became familiar and bearable much more quickly than he expected it to. Probably because they'd had so much warning, he told himself. Almost a year of knowing it could happen at any time. 

Yeah, he thinks, looking into her unbelievably brown eyes as he chews the last of the straw mushroom. That's why you've been able to cope. Keep telling yourself that. 

God, you've got to get up and go hide that book, she thinks. The second he sees it he'll know what you're trying to pull. 

But she doesn't. She just keeps eating and watching him and seeing him watch her back. How does he manage to be so fucking hot? 

"Okay," he says at last, pushing the sesame chicken away, "you are way too sexy, and if I don't stop, I'm going to be too full to bone you. You ready to get to it ...?" 

Bitch? 

She hears him not saying the word plain as day. Oh shit, what does that mean? Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Tell him, "Yeah, but give me a second" and go move that goddamn book. 

But her heart's cranked up so wild she doesn't think her voice will be steady, so she just tries to give a shrug of, Sure, what the hell, as she puts her own food down. 

He's up and walking toward the bedroom then, unbuttoning his shirt, glancing back, wondering what she's got up her sleeve for him. She's never this reserved. Something's going to break loose and explode when they get in the bedroom. Something good? He wonders what the hell it is and feels her presence like a wave pushing him toward the bed. 

But ... 

While still in the tiny hallway, he catches sight of the nightstand through the doorway. 

What the fuck? 

His first thought is, Did she look through my wallet while I was sleeping and Google me? 

There's no mistaking the cover of that book, even from across the room. It's the middle book of his first trilogy, the edition with that lame blank sky-blue cover he'd cobbled together himself in his early days of self-publishing. Where the hell would she have even gotten it? He only sold a few dozen copies before he paid to upgrade to a professional cover. And half those sales, thanks to the mysteries of Internet commerce, went to individual buyers in Italy and Germany. 

No, if she Googled my name and bought a copy to plant, it'd be the new version, or one of the other books entirely. 

She thinks she sees his stride falter as he gets to the bedroom doorway. Great. Here it comes, you dumbass. Why the hell didn't you get up and move the damn thing? 

He makes his decision in a split second and feels like a chickenshit doing it. Without stopping, he pivots so that he's backing into the bedroom, shucking the dress shirt, then putting a thumb over his shoulder toward the adjoining bathroom. It's not too hard to pretend that he's doing it so he can drink in a long look of her as he's moving. 

"I'm going to take a leak real quick, okay?" He paints her body head to toe with his gaze, down and then up again. "But don't get undressed. I want to peel you out of those clothes." 

"Sure," she says, with a clumsily faked casual tone. He saw it. She knows he saw it. He's giving me a chance to ditch it. 

If there's any doubt, just as he starts closing the bathroom door, he glances at the nightstand and says, "Oh. Hey, you left a book out. Uh, probably ought to put it away if you don't want me to see it." 

He's a shy pisser. It's not that weird for him to go in and close the door, or for it to take a bit before she hears the stream of his pee hitting the toilet bowl. She stands paralyzed in the doorway, staring at the book in silence. 

Inside the bathroom, he thinks, She wanted you to see it. She wanted you to see it, and you pushed her away, you dipshit. But what if that's wrong? What if she just forgot it was there? Goddamnit. Then you could have just asked, "Hey, what's that? Any good?" But no, because then he'd be lying, pretending he didn't already know the damn thing cover-to-cover. And if she had snuck a peek at his license and was trying to tell him she knew who he was, then playing dumb would be pushing her away just as much as handling it the way he had. But either she doesn't know who you are and she likes your books, or she's trying to tell you she knows who you are. He can't figure out which one of those is scarier, or more exciting. Then he realizes the third alternative is that someone loaned her the book and she doesn't give a crap about it. 

Come on, you stupid fucker, piss already! The last is aimed at his bladder. 

When the splash of urine sounds through the door, she finally moves. Stomps to the nightstand. Grabs the book roughly (even though it's precious and probably one of the only things she would try to save from the apartment in a fire). 

Yanks open the nightstand drawer, throws the book inside, slams it shut. 

Stands panting with her back toward the bathroom door, trying to get herself under control while the toilet flushes and the sink runs. 

The book is gone when he opens the door in his boxer-briefs, pants and socks discarded on the floor. Because she didn't really want me to see it, or because I made her feel rejected? 

He steps in behind her, wraps her in his arms, hooks his chin over her shoulder, closes his eyes, takes a few long breaths. Perfume. Deodorant. Hair. Skin. Her whole body feels taut in his grasp. What do you say? What do you say? 

It hits him pretty quick. "You know what I like about you, bitch?" 

"What?" 

"Everything. There is not a single goddamn thing wrong with you. You're fucking perfect." 

Some of the tension eases out of her. "Well ... I did cock up and leave that book out. Almost gave away what kind of thing I like to read." 

So she does like it. Or - she's covering for the fact that she peeked in my wallet. Dude, just ... turn it off, okay? 

"Yeah," he replies, "but I think I would have lived. And anyway, it gave you an excuse to say 'cock up.' That was a pretty well chosen phrase." 

She feels him hardening against her left ass-cheek then, and she lets go of her worry and frustration, squirms around to face him within the tight circle of his arms. His grey eyes say he meant it when he called her perfect. 

"Okay. So we gonna fuck now or what?" She feels filled up with sunlight as she says it. Things are suddenly so good, there's no conceivable reason to change them. 

"Yes, bitch, I believe we are." 

His encircling arms loosen, slide his hands down her back. Her eyes close and she shivers as his fingers reach her waist, tickle their way farther down, find the hem of her tank and begin to draw it upward. He puts his lips to the rich fullness of her mouth, closing his eyes to match hers. The feel of her shifting slightly as she raises her arms sets him afire, almost makes him rip the blue top up and off, except that he'd have to break the kiss to do that, and he's not willing to - not yet. So he creeps the fabric higher and higher, releasing her soft flesh to the air in movements of inches. Her breasts momentarily weigh down his progress, until the fabric rolls up and around their curves, lifting and then letting them fall. He breaks the kiss then, to lean and get his mouth to one of her nipples. The tank top goes up and over her head to be tossed across the room. 

"God, it makes me so hot when you do that," she breathes at his suckling. A quick circle of his tongue around the nipple makes her gasp. "Yeahhhh. You getting my skirt, or am I?" 

He rises up, looks her in the eye, one hand on each side of her rib cage. The way she stands there, nude to the waist, the color of coffee with a dash of cream, and then an extra dash in the band around her breasts and ribs where the sun never hits, and then the deep chocolate of her areolas and nipples, the bronze of her hair, the buff of her palms - he could write a whole book on just the different browns of her. 

The look he's giving her makes her forget her own question about the skirt. For a while, she just meets his stare and knows and needs nothing else. Then a heat like being belly-down on hot sand suggests at least one other need. Maybe the same thing hits him at the same time, because he kneels and works the catch of her skirt, unzips it, glides it down with both hands, the fingers spread wide to cover and sense as much of her flesh as he can. 

As the denim curtain descends along her thighs, her silky off-white panties are laid bare, an aromatic painting of female arousal. He stoops and bends and grazes her still-clothed mound ever-so-gently with his teeth, making her suck in a lightning-quick breath. 

"I want to ride your mouth," she says. His grey eyes glitter as he brings his jaw and lips to a slow close, sending soft heat and a bit of extra dampness into her panties with his delicate kiss. Then he tongues a crease into the cloth along her slit and leans back, getting his thumbs through the leg-holes to either side of her mons, to tug the fabric down. 

They move like a single creature: her, stepping out of the wet, silken cloth, him sliding his legs through her wide-spaced ankles, her coming forward and down, him easing down and back with just slightly less speed so that the space between her labia and his lips closes in time with their descent to the floor. His head touches the carpet just as she settles fully against his mouth, the subtle and intricate involutions of her flesh tangy with lust. With a few careful shifts and adjustments, she positions her legs, her hips, just where she can press herself to him without her weight crushing him or straining her knees. 




Contrast Ch. 04



In a whisper, she says, "Kiss me there." 

As if he needs the encouragement. 

By now he knows every ridge and valley of her pudenda almost as well as the shapes of his own teeth in his mouth. His tongue knows where to flick and where to flit, how deeply it can probe and when to do so. His lips know the pace at which to widen and close, to latch and to loosen, to nibble, to enfold. His ears know the catch in her breath that says more and the soft moan that says there. 

Above him, she seeks her own pleasure not from carnal appetite but because she knows how much it delights him to give it to her. She has never been told how beautiful she is any better than his tongue and lips are telling her now. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she lets go of the rest of her existence and becomes her clitoris, her labia, her slit - the wet, lush engorgements that he delves into with exquisite care and perfectly timed moments of fervor. 

When she lifts up and crawls forward, he tries to stop her, putting a hand about each thigh, but she laughs and rolls and ends up on her ass, slipping one big toe into the waistband of his underwear. 

"How about let's get these off?" 

He doesn't say anything for a moment, head tilted back to look at her, upside-down from his angle. He breathes in the smell of her still glistening on his lower face, licks his lips to taste it. Then he shrugs and grins. 

"If you say so, I guess." 

She stands, hands on her hips, watching as he crawls out of his underwear and gets up to face her. His look is earnest and heated, almost worshipful, but that cock seems to have its own swagger, like it knows how it makes her burn every time she sees it. They kiss and swivel and turn. She ends up seated at the edge of the bed, with him on his knees between her legs. The book is long gone, vanished from her head and from his. There is only this: his steady push up and in, her grateful, slick acceptance, and then their passion, swirling and surging, bowing the mattress, shaking the frame, mouths locked together, hands everywhere, voices a symphony of moans and murmurs and gasps. 

"Bitch," he whispers, "your pussy is so, so good." 

She rolls her hips the way he likes and whispers back, "It loves the way you fuck it. Ah - yes, fuck it ..." 

They kiss and clutch and hump with rising urgency, rattling the bed. 

"God ... damn ..." 

"Yes, baby, take it. Take - that - " 

"Uhh! God, close - " 

"Yes, come on - come for me!" 

"Hahh ... Hnghhhh ..." 

The clench of her jaw, the furrow of her brow, the hook of her ankles around behind him, the dig of her nails into his back - if there's a muscle in her body that's not responding to the stroke of his cock, he certainly can't tell which. Not that the tight, perfect squeeze of her cunt is letting him do a full inventory. But whatever geology lab might have a seismograph turned on nearby, he's pretty sure it must be scribbling out the tremor of her approaching climax. 

And ... 

"YES!" 

It hits her. Lifts her. Peels her chest back away from him as her spine arches. The heat between her legs becomes fire, roaring through her in an orgasmic conflagration, like a wildfire sparked by lightning. 

He sees it, feels it, hears it, and is pulled up into it - carried aloft by the updraft of her inferno until the blazing, dizzying heights ignite his own ecstatic explosion. 

From each of them, at the same moment, bursts an exultation: 

"Oh my god, I -" 

"Holy fuck, I -" 

But there is no verb, because even in this moment of insensate bliss, they both know the only proper verb is forbidden, and instead they turn it into the loudest groan of mutual passion they can manage. When the drumbeats of their pulses calm, they heave up onto the bed together and lie gasping in each other's arms. 

"More Chinese food?" he asks, a little later, caressing her bare shoulder with his eyes still closed. "Or more sex?" 

She snuggles in tighter to his warm, perfect body. Her sigh of contentment fills him up more than either of those alternatives would. 

"Both," she says, inseparably close and still. "But not yet." 

* * * 

Her 

I turned twenty-six this morning. Now he's on me, and inside me, and he doesn't have any idea. 

The smoothness of him pushing up through my cunt has me just shy of paradise. We're on our first fuck of the night. I'm twenty-six, and I've had more sex in the last year than in the twenty-five before that. 

He sighs into my ear: "Ahhh." I love his breath heating the whorls and curves there. We're on our first fuck of the night, but I already came hard from him putting his face between my legs and kissing there like he was born to do it. 

"So good ..." he whispers. 

His lips brush gently at my neck as he eases his cock forward within me, slow and wonderful. Its whole stiff length rests at full penetration for a moment before he draws it just as gracefully back. 

I love it when he fucks me like a lust-crazed stallion, but I love it even more when he does this. 

I love you. 

I'm twenty-six years old, and I've never felt this way about anyone - and I don't even know his name. 

I want to know it so badly. 

I want to know it right now, so that a few minutes into the future, when he works me up into a thrashing, catapulting orgasm, I can scream it out at the top of my lungs. So the neighbors will know who this man is and how I feel about him. So he understands that it is him I'm coming for. Not just the feeling of a dick between my legs, but him. 

He rises up and puts his lips softly to mine. I watch his closed eyes, his expressive eyebrows, the look of total peace and pleasure that being with me puts on his face. 

I love him. 

I think he loves me. 

He has to love me. 

I'm twenty-six years old, and I've been fucking this man for almost exactly a year, and I don't know his name, and if I don't know it soon, I'll go crazy. 

And if I screw it up and he doesn't want to tell me or he doesn't want to know mine and I scare him off by telling him how I feel, then I'll also go crazy. 

Somewhere along the way, thinking and feeling all of this, I've stopped moving, stopped responding to his movements, without realizing it. He opens his eyes and sees me crying. 

"What's wrong?" His arms, around me, suddenly tense with concern. 

"Nothing." 

A second of pain shows in his face. Not pain like I hurt him, pain like he feels my hurt in the tone of my voice. He blinks a little faster than normal, puts one hand up to my cheek, gentle, brushing at the tears. 

"No, really. I want to know." The softness in his voice makes me cry even more. He does. He really does want to know. But if I answer him, there's no going back. 

"Please," he says. "It's okay. You can tell me." 

I shut my eyes and breathe, feel the solidity of his body above mine. Inside I can tell his erection is fading, but we're both still, so it doesn't slip out. 

"Do ..." My voice shuts down as I look in those grey eyes. I have to swallow and start again. "Look, do you know what Thursday is?" 

Something widens in his face. Not physically - some emotion. Oh my God, he does. He knows. 

"Sure," he says, in this ridiculously casual voice. "It's our anniversary. I didn't think you'd be keeping track." 

Bullshit, I think, barely able to stop myself from screaming it in a maniac laugh. Oh, you beautiful silly bullshitter. 

It's going to be okay. I can hardly breathe, but I do, enough to say back in my own casual voice, "Pretty easy for me to keep track, coz it's four days after my birthday." 

I see him doing the math in his head and I wait, wondering what he's going to say, but no longer worried, not worried at all. 

* * * 

Him 

Holy shit. 

This is it. The moment it all changes. Only no, it's not - it's just the moment when we both admit that it's changed. Somewhere in between, somewhere in the last year, not on any day or at any hour you could put a finger on, it changed, and we've both just been trying to figure out if the change was real, or if we were dreaming it. 

"Huh," I say, wondering how it is that her face looks giddy and calm at the same time. Does mine look that way too? "So ... happy birthday. Anything particular you want? Besides orgasms, I mean. I was already planning to give you several of those." 

She laughs and grins, just a flash of each, and then she's staring at me, getting ready to say something - to ask something, I can see it. Something I'm going to say yes to. 

"You remember what you told me, that first time, the very first time, right after we finished fucking and I asked how often you were going to come back?" 

I think for a second, not because it takes me a full second to remember, but because even though I shouldn't be able to believe what she's saying, I do. I believe it completely. 

"I said I was ready to move in and spend all day every day screwing you." 

She nods, once, not a hint of humor in her eyes. "That's what I want." 

I have this intense impulse to kiss the tip of her nose. Instead, I ask, "You always go this big when you ask for birthday presents?" 

"I didn't ask - you offered." 

I tilt my head to concede the point. "You realize I'd have to put my name on the lease, and then you'd know what it is." 

She shrugs. "Guess I could live with that, if the tradeoff is cock on demand." 

"Hm. Should we maybe have a look at my place, though? See if we'd rather shack up there?" 

"Why?" she asks. "Does it matter where it is or how big it is, long as it's got room for a bed, and us?" 

"No." 

The insanity of the moment is hopping up and down waving its arms trying to get my attention, but I ignore it. Gabe and Susie will think I've gone crazy - they know I'm seeing someone, but I've been downplaying it the whole time, saying it was purely physical. Technically, the absolute truth, but also a giant fucking lie. 

"So," she says. "When?" Her face glows with sensuality, and before I can answer, she goes on, "Thursday would be kind of cool, wouldn't it?" 

"It would ..." I say. And we've already talked about how shot both our schedules are for Monday through Wednesday. But ... 

Putting on a disappointed look, I sigh and say, "I've already got something on Thursday." 

She knows I'm messing with her and lifts a mean eyebrow. "Really. What?" 

"Well, this is kind of awkward. It's a blind date. With this chick whose name I don't even know. I'm supposed to meet her at that Mexican restaurant across the street - the one we've never been to?" 

"That place sucks." 

"Damn. That's too bad, because everything's set up. I told her to wear a camo tank top and jean skirt, and I'm supposed to wear a concert t-shirt for this really filthy rapper that she apparently gets off to." 

She laughs and her fingernails scrape down my naked back. "Like you've got the balls to go out and buy a gangsta t-shirt." 

I shrug. "Yeah, my plan was actually to show up in my work stuff and scope her out without her knowing I'm there yet." 

"Boy, don't fool yourself. That girl's gonna see you comin' from a mile away. A thousand miles." She pauses, lets her grin soften into a smile. The sharp edge in her eyes goes misty and deep. "From the other side of the world." 

"Well," I say, "I guess it'll be a pretty interesting date, then." 

* * * 

Them 

He sits on a bench in the foyer of the Mexican place, tapping his foot. It's a small foyer and a really small bench - she seems to be right about the place being crappy. The noise from the kitchen grates on him even from here, and it's got to be worse in the dining area. He's kind of bummed about that because he's got something in his pocket that's not his phone or his keys or his wallet, something that probably won't come out in a cheap-ass hole in the wall like this. It probably wasn't going to come out regardless, but he bought it and brought it just in case. If there's a chance you might decide to propose on a first date, and especially if there's a chance she'll say yes, you damn sure want to be prepared. 

She waits on her side of the street for the crosswalk signal to change. How many times has she jaywalked this intersection to get to the bus stop on the other side? But tonight she is one hundred percent damn sure not getting herself hit by a car going across the road. The little white guy walking comes on and she laughs. Oh, you cute little white guy walking. One year ago. One fucking year ago this morning, at this same intersection, she turned to bitch out some creep trailing her ass, then decided to taunt him with what he couldn't have - then saw this harmless, awkwardly handsome dude who clearly just wanted to cross the street, wasn't trying anything at all. So she toyed with him, and then she made a decision, and then he followed her like a puppy, neither one of them paying a damn bit of attention to whether the "Don't Walk" was flashing. 

Tonight she waits for the little white guy to blink on, looks both ways very carefully, and then sets out with an electric power to her stride. 

He looks at his watch. He's been here a while, and it's still five minutes before time. He straightens his tie, thinks again about taking it off. It's a work tie, and he's left his blazer in the car, but he still feels overdressed. The box in his pocket puts in its two cents: You take the tie off, it means you're definitely not taking me out tonight. Which means the sensible thing is to take the tie off, but he still doesn't do it. Instead, he stops tapping his foot and picks the book up from the bench next to him. It falls open pretty easily to his favorite scene. He wonders if it's her favorite scene too. 

On the way through the parking lot she realizes she's breathing hard and forces herself to slow down even though it's not walking too fast that has her lungs in a twist. Her dress is black and tight, low-cut and short in the skirt. Should she have worn the camo top and denim like he'd joked? No. She needs to sizzle for him tonight, and this is the sizzling-est thing she has. She hopes the ivory handbag and shoes are tasteful enough to keep her from looking like a hooker. But if not, what the fuck.  

The door. 

A little stiff, with a jangly bell at the top, some kind of silvery tint job making the glass hard to see through. It opens with a gust of Tejano music, and there he is on the bench. 

Where in the shit did he get that? she thinks, staring at the sky-blue book in his hands. He folds it closed and stands up grinning, one finger in a spot that she thinks may actually be page three hundred and sixty-eight. She shakes away the daydream of him being exactly at her favorite part of the book. Guess he really paid attention when I left it on the nightstand that night, didn't he? Can't believe he'd go and steal that off my bookshelf when I wasn't looking, sneaky bastard. 

Only no, the copy he's got is missing the big diagonal crease across the back cover from where she'd dropped it on the bus that one time. 

The look on her face when she sees the book - it's absolutely, perfectly her. A blink, another blink, and then a flash of those brown eyes straight into his, lids narrowing, one eyebrow daring him to play whatever trick he has up his sleeve. He's pretty sure, though, that he's going to surprise her several different ways tonight. Recovering, she moves in and lets the door swing closed behind her. He's looking really pleased with himself, and then a second later he's looking even more pleased with her outfit. 

"Hey," he says, stepping toward her. "I think I'm supposed to be meeting you here, but that is damn sure not what I suggested you should wear." 

She tips her jaw up like a challenge. "Yeah, I wanted to make sure I showed you up if you really had the cojones to wear that rapper shirt. But I guess you get the reward even if you chickened out." 

"You look nice," he says, his grey eyes glowing in a way that says those words are the understatement of the year. 

"You look nice too," she says, reaching out to trail her fingers down his tie while her smile tells him how much she means it. 

With a wry expression he doesn't quite have under control, he puts one hand out, the one without the book. 

"I'm Dan," he says. 

Her eyes flicker down toward the blue cover of the book and the name under the title, and then she just laughs, a little wildly, showing lots of teeth, and takes his hand. 

"Jenice," she says, even happier to say it than to imagine he's not playing a joke with his name and a copy of her favorite book by her favorite author. 

"Jenice," he repeats, feeling the softness of her fingers in his hand and the strength of her gaze in his eyes. "That's a beautiful name." 

"Thank you," she says, smiling. It occurs to her that her cheeks are going to be really tired by the time dinner is over. "It sounds better than usual when you say it." 

Eyes twinkling, he says, "Well, it's going to sound even better when I say it later." 

"Promise?" 

"Oh, yes, I promise." 

"Good." 

The server comes, and they sit down to have dinner. 

* * * 

Jenice and Dan 

Dan orders a Dos Equis. Jenice orders a margarita on the rocks. They both agree on queso instead of just chips and salsa before the entrees arrive. The waitress leaves water and menus, then sees to another table instead of heading for the kitchen to get their queso going or the bar to put their drink orders in. 

The strangeness of it hits them both as soon as the waitress steps away - alien territory, sitting across a table to enjoy a meal and talk, not just refuel in preparation for sex. Dan picks up a menu to cover the fact that his brain is suddenly empty. Jenice, having experienced this menu before, knows it won't help her, but realizes that it gives her something to say into the silence. 

"Just order the enchilada plate," she says. "Trust me." 

The confidence in her voice comes as a relief to her. Having something to respond to comes as a relief to him. 

"The enchilada plate's good?" 

"No," Jenice says. "The enchilada plate sucks. But everything else here sucks too, so there's no point spending ten minutes deciding which sucky thing to get." 

He laughs, a real laugh, but with a thread of nerves tangled in it. Knowing that he's nervous too makes her feel a little better. 

"So ..." he says. Nothing occurs to him after that, though. Holy crap, am I totally fucking this up? 

On the corner of the table, the blue-covered book sits waiting. Jenice has been working to keep her eyes off it, but it's begging to be talked about, and neither of them is coming up with anything else. 

"You're teasing me with that, right? I mean, rubbing my nose in it for leaving the damn thing out." 

He raises his eyebrows as if to say, What? Me, teasing? 

"Cut that out," she says. But now it's her turn to laugh, and that at least feels good. There's some relief, too, in being committed now: they have a subject. A little worried about the answer, a little regretful that the book just wouldn't be postponed until they were both more comfortable, she asks, "So are you really reading it, or did you just find a copy to play games with me?" 

"I found a copy to play games with you," Dan says. 

Oh no, Dan, she thinks, finding it weird to know his name at last, please don't do this to me. 

Then he goes on, "I have read it a time or two, though - had to dig through some boxes in my garage to find it." 

Oh god, don't do that to me either! "You dick. Why didn't you say anything that night, if you knew what it was? I mean, especially if you liked it enough to read it more than once?" 




Contrast Ch. 04



He drums his fingers on the table. The nearness of telling her the truth makes his brain crackle electrically, shoots current through the wires of his whole nervous system. He tries to find the suave Dan Holden who handled this situation so deftly in all the fantasies he'd had since digging the book out two days earlier. "Well," says a passable imitation of that Dan Holden, "I wasn't a hundred percent sure you wanted me to say anything. Maybe you just left it out by accident. Maybe if I said something, then I'd be the one crossing a line. Remember, you're the scary black woman in this relationship." 

That makes her smile - but she also wears a hint of embarrassment on her face. "Thought I had the scary pretty well turned off that night." 

"You did." Enough with the joking. Get your legs under you and help her get hers too. "It wasn't you I was scared of. It was the idea I might do something wrong and lose you." 

Her eyes close slowly and then re-open. She leans her chin into one palm. 

"I was afraid of that too," she admits. "I knew it was off-limits - I just ... I wanted there to be more. I wanted it so much. So I spent all afternoon before you showed up taking that book out, putting it back, taking it out, laying it open at my favorite scene, closing it back up." 

"What's your favorite scene?" A physical thrill runs through him that she knows the book well enough to have a favorite scene. He has to know which one it is, and he simultaneously thinks it doesn't matter and also thinks, The meadow scene, right? 

His intensity surprises her. She wonders if it's somehow possible the book is as important to him as it is to her. 

"Page three-hundred and sixty-eight," she says. "You know, where she admits everything she's been hiding from him. Where she opens up and we finally learn what makes her tick, why she's so fucking brave and keeps sticking her neck out where it might get chopped off. Every time I read it, it's like, God, I want to be this chick and believe in things like she believes in them, and then also find somebody who deserves to be trusted that way, who I could feel safe letting myself be weak in front of." 

Dan is just looking at her, not saying anything. She has no idea what his expression means, but she knows she can sit here and take that look all night long if he keeps it up. 

The waitress comes back, though, with a bowl of queso and some chips. 

"You folks ready to order?" She's a weathered-looking hispanic lady, one of those completely indifferent servers whose gum-chewing is the most energetic thing about them. 

Jenice waves a hand back and forth between the two of them. "We'll both have the enchilada plate." 

The waitress turns her face blankly at Dan, somehow managing to make a question of it without a hint of expressiveness. 

"Yes, absolutely, enchiladas," he says, to get rid of her as quickly as possible. 

Taking the menus, the waitress departs. 

Unable to wait any longer, desperate to know if this coincidence of the book is as big a deal as she wants it to be, Jenice asks, "So - you read the rest of the series too?" 

He nods, opens his mouth like he has something to say, but then closes it again. 

It's a thing, she thinks. It is, it's our first big thing we share together. "I've read every goddamn thing the guy's written," she says. "He's amazing. Now you've come along, he's downgraded to my second-favorite Daniel, but lemme tell you, it's a near thing." 

Fuck, he thinks. This is it. Here we go. 

"It's ... uh ... a nearer thing than you think." 

She narrows her eyes at him, not sure what he's getting at. 

His heart's pounding as he puts a fingertip by the name on the front of the book. "This is me, Jenice." 

Jenice feels her jaw drop - not because she believes him, but because she's stunned that he would make a joke out of something she's trying to say is so important to her. 

"That's not funny." 

Oh shit. She doesn't ... The way her face closes off makes him panic for a second. This wasn't how his fantasies had gone at all. Wait, he thinks. Wait, wait, wait ... 

He remembers what he'd first thought, seeing the book on the nightstand that night - that she'd snuck a peek in his wallet and found his ID. 

"Look," he says, grabbing out his billfold and fumbling the driver's license free. Holding it out to her. "Look. I'm totally serious." 

She takes the license, stares at the picture, stares at the name. "You're shitting me." 

"No, Jenice, really ..." He rifles through the credit cards, pulls out the business one with his publishing imprint on it. The one he charged the hell out of in the early days trying to run ads and find a readership. It's still pretty maxed out - self-publishing hasn't been that good to him. But at least here's a use he can put it to. He flips the book over, holds the card next to the publishing company name. 

She puts a hand out like she's going to touch the book or the card, then pulls it back and says, "Where the fuck is my margarita right now?" 

Dan isn't sure he hears much humor in her voice, so he waits. 

"You're not shitting me. Oh my god." She's trembling, the driver's license forgotten in her hand as she looks at him. "I've been screwing Daniel fucking Holden for a year without even knowing it. Jesus." 

She's about to start crying, he thinks. It hasn't occurred to him, but now it does, that she might be such a big fan of his writing that she won't be able to handle knowing him. No ... no, she's tougher and cooler than that. Just pull it together and bring things back down to Earth. In a stab at humor, he says, "Actually, the 'F' stands for 'Frederick.'" 

She picks up the book and hits him with it, feels amazingly better for having done so, is about to hit him again, then stops and looks at the cover and says, "Wait. There's no 'F,' it's Daniel P. Holden." 

"Yeah, but I didn't think saying the 'P' stands for 'Frederick' would be as funny." 

She hits him again, but now she's laughing and collapsing back into her chair, giddy and dazed. "Fuck you. I bet the 'P' stands for 'Prick,' you asshole." 

"It can definitely stand for that if you want it to," he replies. "And any time you want it to. And some other 'P' words too." 

"Nasty," she says. "You nasty, nasty boy." 

"That surprises you, after a whole year?" 

Jenice just shakes her head and blinks at him a while. "Daniel P. Holden. Daniel P. Holden. Would you believe I've been in love with you since I was nineteen years old?" 

"Sure, that's totally you," he says. "You've always got to go one bigger than me - I've only been in love with you about eleven and a half months." 

Again, she feels her jaw try to drop. But this time she doesn't let it. "Did you just say that?" 

Dan wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I guess I did. Probably not the most romantic way to say it the first -" 

Before he can finish, Jenice launches out of her chair and across the table, grabs his tie, yanks him forward to get her mouth on his, knocking over a sugar barrel and her water glass in the process. They spend what seems like half a Tejano song kissing before she comes back to her senses and lets him go - though they don't pull more than an inch away even after she releases his tie. 

Nose to nose with him, she understands that he's real, that this is real, that everything she's ever wanted is here, near enough to grab, and hers to have. Even if this place had the best enchilada plate in the whole world, she would no longer be hungry. 

Dan tries to figure out what the look on her wonderful face means and finds that he can't be sure - until a shrug of her smooth, dark shoulders offers her entire body to him, and she whispers, "You want some of this?" 

He does his best to pour a yes out of his eyes and into her soul. She smiles and goes on: "Coz if you want some of this ... our apartment is right over there." 

He kisses her again, then puts his lips to her ear and breathes, "Bitch, you are bad news." 

She laughs, and now it's Jenice's laugh to him. Grins, and it's Jenice's grin. Says, in her sexiest growl, "You've only seen the start of it. Let's get out of here." 

He throws a couple of bills on the table, and they take each other home.



Contrast in Color



Many thanks to my editor for your kindness and patience.

*

They were in a motel room. Almost strangers.

Driving to the motel, she recalled their conversations on the internet, and how sweet this man was. They had been chatting off and on for a long time and having much in common, had become friends and confidants. They had discussed meeting in person, but had not acted on it as yet.

One evening while chatting, he asked if she would meet him the next night, the place of her choosing, with the possibility of becoming lovers. She agreed to meet him. The subject of race had never come up. She had just assumed he was white like her so his next question surprised her.

"Have you ever been with a man of color before?"

"No I haven't."

"Have you heard rumors about our size?"

"Yes I have. Are those rumors true?"

"Yes they are. Does that scare you away?"

"No, it doesn't."

"Good."

They continued talking and agreed upon a time and place, and now she was on her way to meet him.

They met at a local restaurant. Shortly after she arrived, she saw his car pull into the parking lot and park next to hers. He got out of his car first and she noted how tall he was, how well dressed he was, and how good looking he was. He was medium light skinned, his hair was cut short and he sported a short beard tinged in gray that was very becoming. She opened her door and stepped out, they introduced themselves, he opened the restaurant door for her and they walked inside. 

After being seated in a small booth, they ordered coffee and pie. Conversation came easily for both of them as they knew it would. They told each other more about their respective lives, smiled a lot and flirted a little. She noticed how he stared at her. 

"You're dead gorgeous," he said.

"Thank you," she replied, and flashed him a brilliant smile.

Upon leaving the restaurant that evening, they were walking to their respective cars when he asked if they could sit in her car for a while and talk. They talked freely about many things. They also talked about the possibility of becoming lovers.

He looked at his watch and said, "It's getting late and I should go. May I kiss you?"

"Please do."

His kiss was soft at first, his lips making love to hers, then he deepened the kiss and she responded in kind. She felt herself grow wet when his tongue sought hers. He was gentle and respectful and she wanted more of him.

He broke the kiss, his eyes roaming her pretty face and said, "Thank you for not letting race be an issue between us." 

She responded with a smile.

When he got out of her car to leave, he turned to her and said, "I worry about people I care about. Will you call when you arrive home so I know you're safe?"

"Yes"

She did as he had asked and they talked for a few minutes. He told her when he was getting into his car, after the kiss, that he had a wet spot on the front of his trousers, and had driven all the way home aroused from the kiss. He gave her his office number and asked her to call him there anytime.

She did call him and they agreed to meet again. He told her that it would be difficult for him to meet her again and not make love to her but he would leave that decision up to her.

When they met, she asked him to follow her to the motel adjacent to the restaurant.

They found themselves in the motel room, almost strangers, yet not quite. After removing their coats, he asked her to lie on the bed next to him, fully clothed. She did.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

"Yes, are you?"

"Yes", he said. He rolled onto his side, took her into his strong arms, and kissed her passionately. Many sweet and tender kisses later, he stood up and said, "I'd better remove my trousers, before they're stained with another spot." He stood up and said, "Too late"

She looked and there was a large wet area from his erection. He removed his trousers and she noted that he was wearing no underwear, his magnificent cock fully exposed.

She had determined that there are three sizes of cocks, smell, medium and OMG. He was without a doubt in the OMG category.

He unbuttoned his shirt and stood before her. Her eyes roamed his body, from his handsome face to his hair covered chest, and thick perfectly shaped manly legs. He's beautiful, she thought, everything about him is beautiful.

He removed the rest of his clothing, then lay down taking her into his arms and holding her close to him. She felt his erection on her belly. After many passionate kisses, he asked her to stand up and remove her clothing. She turned her back to him and was taking off her earrings and necklace when she felt him standing behind her.

He pulled her hair back and began softly kissing her neck, first one side, then the other. She moaned and told him he had found her weakness, and if he continued, he would have to hold her up because her legs were turning to jelly. He reached around her and his hands found her breasts gently fondling them. He lay back down on the bed supporting himself on his elbows with his legs dangling and feet touching the floor, watching her.

She turned to face him, removing her clothes slowly, one piece at a time, and noticed his cock growing harder. She stood before him naked. He asked her to stand back and turn around slowly so he could see all of her. She did as he asked.

When she was facing him again, he said, "You're beautiful! Your breasts are lovely and perfect, and those long legs, oh those legs!"

The look of adoration on his face told her he meant what he was saying. No man had ever looked at her quite like that, and she would remember the look on his face the rest of her life. It was at that moment that she thought to herself, I could love this man.

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her. Taking her into his arms, they lay together skin to skin, enjoying one another's touch. Kissing, hands exploring, bodies demanding. He reached down and felt her hot wetness, sliding his finger up across her clit, while kissing her breasts, nibbling and suckling each hard nipple. She arched her back and moaned as the exquisite sensation shot from breast to clit in a matter of an instant.

He lay on his back and moaned when she took his cock in her hand. She began kissing her way from his lips to his neck, his chest, stomach, down to his cock. His cock was black, much darker than the rest of his skin, and beautiful, and she was amazed at it's size and girth.

She licked all around the head and stuck her tongue in the tip to taste him. He almost jumped out of his skin when she took his balls gently into her hand and began kissing them. She buried her face in them while holding his cock and stroking, then took each one into her mouth and sucked. His hips began thrusting when she licked and sucked the ever so soft area between balls and anus.

She slowly moved from that area to his throbbing cock. Taking it into her mouth, she sucked her way down the long shaft until her mouth touched his pubic hair, then pulled up with her lips tightly holding it. Up and down. Up and down, over and over again. She loved sucking cock, especially his. With one swift move she took it deep into her throat and held it there so he could feel the tightness.

He moaned and said, "Oh Baby, you are driving me crazy!!"

He reached down and pulled her to him, saying, "Turn about is fair play."

She loved what he was doing to her! Loved the way he took charge, the way he spread her legs wide and gazed at her womanhood.

"Oh yes, there it is," he said as his fingers opened her labia.

He lowered his head and tasted her, running his tongue up and down her slit, then over her hard and throbbing clit. He took it into his mouth and sucked lightly before using the tip of his tongue. He flicked his tongue furiously on her clit, over and over again, until she moaned and whimpered. She reached down with her hands and held his head to her, then began to move her hips up and down. She couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. He was playing havoc with her love bud, playing it like a harp, making beautiful music that she felt all the way to her curled up toes.

She called out, "Please don't stop, Tony. Please."

He felt her stiffen, then heard her scream as she approached the no turning back high, that time of heavenly suspension just before the explosion. He felt her body convulse with each wave of her orgasm, and continued sucking her clit hard, sucking and listening to her screams of ecstasy, feeling her thrashing, her knees wrapped tightly around his ears.

He stopped his ministry to her clit, took her into his arms and held her tight, feeling her body jerk with each wave as she enjoyed the aftermath of an intense orgasm. He kissed her and told her he was there. Told her he wasn't going anywhere, to relax and enjoy. She clung to him, her arms around his body and her face buried in his broad chest. He rocked her, kissing her forehead and rubbing her back. She had never experienced such love and tenderness before this night.

She cuddled next to him, enjoying him. Her hand wandered to his still hard cock and he gasped. He fondled her breasts, playing with her hard nipples, then stood up and put a condom on. He hovered over her rosy flushed body, spread her legs wide and entered her an inch at a time, until he was fully enveloped by her womanhood. Lying on top of her bracing himself on his elbows face to face, he kissed her over and over again while moving in and out with a steady, slow rhythm. They looked at each other, eyes locking, as he continued making slow sweet love.

His hard cock felt wondrous to her, hitting all of the right places deep inside her. Soon she was meeting each of his thrusts with her own. He picked up speed and she wrapped her legs around him...her nails digging into his back as she climaxed again. A sweet, sweet orgasm, not as intense as the first one, but deeper and satisfying.

He withdrew and turned her onto her stomach, then stroked her bottom with both hands, calming her. With one hand on her bottom, he used his finger on the other hand tracing her ass crack all the way to her clit. He dipped his finger inside of her dripping wet pussy, then withdrew it and began rubbing her clit, gently at first and then harder and faster. She came again, almost immediately.

He loved watching her climax loved feeling her body quiver, loved holding her in his arms, knowing that he had given her the ultimate pleasure and relief. He lay on his back and asked her to climb on. She lowered herself onto his hard and throbbing cock, taking all of it inside her. She noticed, and not for the first time, her white skin against his dark skin. How lovely the contrast! Skin color made no difference to them. They were a man and a woman enjoying each other. Loving the things they were doing to and for each other.

She began riding him in earnest, faster and faster, her heart pounding in her chest, her love bud swollen.

"My god, you're killing me Baby," he said, then reached up and took a nipple into his mouth and nibbled.

Her orgasm was strong, powerful! He held her close, using his hand to gently push her hair back from her forehead and kissing her face until her breathing returned to normal.

"Get on your knees Baby."

He fucked her doggie style, his cock reaching to her cervix. Pounding her and pounding her, faster and faster. Her breasts were moving wildly with each hard thrust.

"Fuck me Tony, fuck me hard! That's it. That's it. Your cock feels so good! Please, please, don't stop, not now, not yet!

"Baby, Baby, your pussy is so tight, I'm going to come soon."

He felt her orgasm begin, her strong inner muscles clamping down hard on him, sucking come to the surface. He exploded deep inside her hot, wet, tight pussy, his orgasm so intense that he called out with each spurt of his hot come. After her muscles squeezed out the last drop, he lay on her back and said, "I think I've died and gone to heaven."

"Slowly turn on your side Baby, and I'll lay behind you. I don't want to take it out yet, I just want to hold you for a while."

He put his arm around her and she placed his brown hand on her white breast as he held her close to himself. He began slowly rocking her back and forth as if she were a baby, causing her to feel protected, and cared for, and cherished. His cock slowly slipped out, but they lay like that for a long time, talking and enjoying the intimacy.

Neither of them knew how far their friendship would progress, but knew they would enjoy each other's company for as long as it lasted.



Contrasts



Foreword

The characters in the following story are real; I am one, the other is a mature gentleman that started corresponding with me, after he read my narrative "Sunrise My Darling". Enjoying his letters immensely led me to the inspiration to write the ensuing tale. What takes place is only a flight of fiction, using real people and places, although I have woven many of my own facts into the story. I would like to thank my e-mail partner "Bill" at this time for kind use of his character (Bill, being his true first name -- has granted me written permission allowing the use). Somewhere in the story I will give a small hint to who he is, so those of you who are amateur sleuths pay attention.

Once again I will be writing mostly about myself - and who else do I know better. Rather than constructing a fictional personal backdrop I will use my real background. Most facts about Bill are correct, with the exception that I will not describe him as he is, in order to preserve his privacy. With my first work, you read about the true account of my sexual relationship with my uncle. Now I will be revealing a rich array of my sexual fantasies. Please note because I did choose to use myself and Bill as the characters, this is only a fantasy and I am not in anyway licentious. I will be honest though and admit that I enjoyed sharing my desires and I do enjoy Bill (hi Bill). There will be no deep philosophical messages in my text, so sit back, leave your world for a while and enjoy. 

Jane


Dedication: 

To all the lonely older men that have learned of loving and caring from a life time of experience and now have no one.

* * * * *

San Diego

As the pitch of the aircraft turbines dropped, I awoke from my short nap and realized we were descending into Lindbergh Field. 

Shannon turned to me looking excited, "Here we go, Jane."

It was the first work break in months for the two of us and we both readily signed up to attend the medical trade show -- three days of nursing displays and seminars. We had been given time off work to attend, and I had decided to take my three weeks vacation right after to go on to Hawaii and visit with my family. I need the break badly. After the show, Shannon was off to San Francisco to meet with her boyfriend and drive back together to Seattle. 

We had booked a rather expensive hotel and split the cost. This had been my idea, preferring an expensive up scale large chain hotel for better security and safety. The plane turned in a wide banked and I could see the Pacific stretched out endlessly westward, the sunset shimmering golden off the water. Home is somewhere that way I idly thought. 

I was excited for more than the break and attending the show. Several weeks ago when planning our trip I had e-mailed my best Internet friend, Bill, informing him that we would be down and I would collect on the lunch he promised me. E-mails screamed back and forth between us as we chatted about details and more. Bill had virtually swept me off my feet a year ago with several very detailed and compassionate letters. The two of us continued our communication until it had grown into a warm relationship. Pictures had been exchanged and we had settle into a weekly routine of close letters. We were always there for each other. The anonymity of e-mail and the distance had had the reverse effect and brought us closer and Bill started to know everything about me. He was thirty two years my senior and I told him details about myself that only my doctor or therapist (if I had one) may have known. Yes, we were close and yet had never met. 

With a solid thump, the big aircraft tires hit the concrete. Shannon, grabbed my hand and looked relieved - she was a very nervous flier. Funny how she could be cool as ever in the ER around the worst cases, but bothered by this. Both of us were junior nurses in the ER and had trained together. You could say we had become very good friends, but I had not told her about my secret Internet life and Bill. 

Disembarking, we worked our way through the terminal and picked up our luggage. 

"OK, Shannon, lets catch a cab downtown to our hotel," I suggested. As I started to walk towards the line of waiting cabs to pick up the first one, Shannon pulled on my arm. 

"Wait, Jane, I don't like the looks of that first driver, let's take the third one down," she cautioned. 

I looked at the line and the drivers and I asked, "How can you tell, Shannon, they all look alike to me?" She was insistent and we took the third cab much to the annoyance of the first cabby. 

During the ride I informed Shannon about wanting to meet my friend Bill. Truthfully I told her I had met him on the Internet.

"Jane is that safe?" she questioned.

"Yes Shannon, he's an older man and a kind and gentle person," I replied.

"But you have never met him in person Jane?" she continued.

"Shannon, trust me, it's OK, plus all we are going to do is meet for lunch. I tell you what, since your being a mother hen, you can come along," I consoled her.

"You don't mind me joining you, Jane... Really?" she asked.

"Shannon, it's not a problem, and it will be fun. Besides you'll like Bill, and really we are just great friends. Plus if it will make you feel better, mother hen, OK." We both laughed, starting to relax a bit.

The cab pulled up and dropped us at the brightly lit, huge hotel lobby. A young doorman greeted us and ran a dolly around to pick up our bags. Shannon was all smiles to him, and flirted lightly.

Checking in, we headed to our room and unpacked our clothing. Shannon had the Med. show programs out with the times of the seminars we wanted to attend and was studying them closely. 

"Shannon how about tomorrow just after one for lunch with Bill?" I checked.

"Well we only have the morning seminar and I thought we could walk around looking at the booth displays in the afternoon, but sure lunch would be great. Where are you thinking of going Jane?" she wondered.

"Let's meet him here in the hotel restaurant. It has a nice look to it and, well, maybe I am a little nervous after all," I replied with hesitation.

"Sounds OK," Shannon replied, seeing I wasn't so confident any more.

Somehow I felt better with her endorsement. I knew Bill would never hurt me, but anticipation can make you worry about anything. Nervously I picked up the phone and called the number I had so carefully copied down. The number rang four or five times and I was about to hang up when I heard the pick up. 

"Hello," the deep voice greeted.

"Bill, hi it's Jane, I'm in San Diego," I stammered.

"Jane! Hello, Jane! Thank you for calling," came the very friendly reply. "How are you? How was the flight? Jane, your voice sounds great, just like I imagined."

"Thanks, Bill, I don't know where to begin, but how about lunch tomorrow?" I replied apprehensively.

"Lunch would be great, Jane, I will meet where ever you like, or I can suggest a very public place."

"Actually Bill, would it be all right if I brought my friend Shannon along? She is another nurse I work with," I inquired trying to sound polite.

"Of course Jane, I insist she joins us. It's my privilege to have lunch with the two of you - on my card of course."

Yes, this was the Bill I knew. I could feel his personality and it was so strange. The personality that was on e-mail was alive and dynamic. Here he was kind, caring and alive. We set the time and place and said good night.

It had been along day and I needed a shower and bed. Shannon read for a while and I wondered about tomorrow as I drifted off to a fine sleep between the cool clean sheets. The air conditioning hummed peacefully and contentedly away under the window, cooling our room and lulling us into dream-land. 

The first morning seminar was interesting and both of us took light notes on the handouts provided. My mind was not fully on the program and I drifted off several times thinking of lunch. I'm not sure why it was so important to me - after all it was only a lunch.

We broke from the talk and Shannon turned to me and said, "Well, let's go meet your friend." 

I had butterflies and just nodded.

We where about fifteen minutes early and sat drinking tea together.

"Jane, you seem a little apprehensive about meeting Bill," Shannon noted with female intuition.

"A little Shannon," I admitted. "He is a bit of a special person to me." 

"And you have never met him," she probed.

I didn't offer any more information -- I couldn't. I didn't know how. Shannon did not know that I had had a relationship with my uncle and or much of my personal history; Bill did. He was special to me and that idea I could not explain easily. 

I heard a voice call, "Jane," and I look over towards the host's reception area and there he was. 

"He's not bad for an older man, Jane," Shannon observed.

I smiled nervously at her and stood as Bill approached. His eyes were bright, and he was trim. His hair was still fairly thick but fading to a dark gray. It was short in a clean military cut. His dress was smart and appropriate. 

"Jane, hello," he greeted and took my hand and held it. 

"Hi, Bill, this is Shannon, the friend I mentioned... we work together," I stated, trying to deflect some of the attention off myself. 

"Hi, Shannon, very nice to meet you," Bill offered.

He definitely was sincere and friendly. I was comfortable with him from the start. We lunched together and chatted about many different light topics. Bill did not pepper me with questions and avoided any private discussions. It was a bit strange; here was someone I had been intimate with in writing and yet we did not touch any more than the immediate situation. I was worried about some topics coming up in front of Shannon. Bill was great. He knew, and was not slow or deficient with his words... a true gentleman.

Lunch ended and Bill sat back and chatted with us for a while, then asked, "Would you like to see a little of San Diego, ladies?"

A natural pause came to the table. 

I thought for a moment and replied, "Yes, Bill that would be nice." My eyes connected with Shannon and she understood.

She responded, "Jane, I think I would like to catch the afternoon seminar." 

We both knew that there wasn't one. 

"Sure Shannon," I replied.

At this moment, Shannon turned to Bill and asked, "Will you take care of her?" 

I almost died, but clamped my mouth shut, uncertain what to say.

Bill smiled, "Shannon I promise. I'll tell you what... " Reaching for his pocket Bill pulled out his wallet. "Shannon, please copy down all my information from my driver's license. You can have my address and here is my phone number."

It was the same number I called him at. 

"I will also have Jane call you and this afternoon and leave a message," he continued.

I sat still through this exchange and bit my tongue. I didn't know whether to be mad or grateful to Shannon. I decide she really was taking care of me. I left with Bill and headed out the door.

"Bill, I'm sorry, Shannon is just worried about me that's all," I explained.

Bill smiled at me. "Jane, I'm happy she asked, and that I could take you with me without any worries. She is right, we are in an odd position here."

I smiled back. I liked Bill. He was the man I thought he would be. He had the same personality as in his letters. Oddly and because of me, we never did talk on the telephone. I did not want to. I wanted to know Bill though letters and writing because this was a unique experience to me. Our first ten minutes together was a bit awkward, neither one of us knew where to start. Yes, it was awkward, but there was something I could feel -- something I understood and had felt before. Breaking the silence, Bill asked if I would like to visit Sea World. I agreed and off we went. 

"Bill could you park several blocks away? I need to walk with you a little," I requested.

"Not a problem Jane," I understand.

We left the car and walked.

"Bill thank you for being discreet at lunch with Shannon. She doesn't know much about you or my past or how our friendship started," I noted to him.

"I wasn't sure Jane, so I did not say anything out of concern that it may embarrass you." he added somewhat fatherly.

"Thanks Bill," I smiled back. "I can't believe we are here together." 

"You are well... great, Jane. I don't know you, yet I know you like a daughter. What do we do here? I would like to spend as much time together as you care to give me. I have pages of discussion to review with you and I can't think of any of it now. And, Jane, you are so pretty, you make me nervous."

I blushed and smiled at the compliment. 

I thought about his words for a minute and then looped my arm though his and said, "How about we start at Sea World and the beginning."

Bill broke out in a huge smile and the tension melted between us. Words came like an easy rain, cool and refreshing. We connected and communicated. Sea World was splendid. Bill knew much about the undersea world and we chatted about fish, shrimps, sharks and sea anemones. The stress of the last few months was lifting off my shoulders. Bill was like a rejuvenation tonic to me. We spent dinner together and walked in a beautiful park. Our conversation deepened and became intimate. Bill stopped and pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. I felt a bit neglected, but was patient. 

He carefully handed me the phone and said, "Our call to Shannon I promised her, Jane." 

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I told Shannon I was OK and would be back in an hour or so. My eyes locked to Bill's and I knew this man. There was no questioning that now.

Bill dropped me off and I promised to call him the next day. When I came in the door Shannon was in bed and watching TV. 

"How was it Jane? I thought you would be back an hour or so ago?" she questioned. 

"It was fabulous Shannon, sorry for the late call, but we really connected," I answered. 

Shannon smiled and went back to her show. I loved her. She was considerate and didn't pry. The next day I called Bill and told him I was free after ten in the morning. He agreed to pick me up at the front lobby. Shannon asked if I was going to see any of the displays. I begged her forgiveness and she smiled and told me it was OK, one of her old class mates was at the show in Medical sales and had invited her to go for dinner.

The Comfort of Love

Bill was right on time for our meeting the next day. He asked if I would like to go to the zoo with his granddaughter and I jumped at the chance to met her. I knew she was only four years old and very cute from the pictures he sent me. 

We visited the zoo and had a great time. Bill's granddaughter was adorable. 

At one point she said, "pee-pee, Grandpa," and I watched as Bill started her heading towards the men's room. I stopped him and took her to the women's washroom. I gave him my, 'I'm a nurse,' look as he started to say he would do it. Smiling, I told him us girls always pee together anyway (or at least men always like to think so). 

After dropping her off with her parents, he invited me to his home mentioning it was only a few blocks away. I hesitated, being a single girl one never looses that deep guard. Bill caught it immediately. He popped out the cell phone and called the hotel number. He passed me his phone once again as the lobby clerk answered. Bill requested I leave a message for Shannon, where I was going and for how long. I quickly complied.

Bill's home was immaculate and well kept. The front yard was lovely and I could see someone who likes gardening and had the time. Going inside I could see the military man at work. Everything was polished and in its place. 

"Bill," I quizzed, "How long has your wife been gone?" I knew it was many years but not how many. 

"It's been four years Jane"

Satisfying my womanly curiosity I peeked around as Bill fixed us some juice to drink. I looked into the bedrooms and the house was spotlessly clean. One room had a large desk in it and what appeared to be several pieces of complicated electronic equipment. I wandered in. 

"Bill, what is an oscilloscope?" I quizzed loudly from the room.

Bill replied from the kitchen, "It's a piece of electronics measuring equipment, dear." 

"What does it do?" I continued.

"Measures amplitude varying signals in the time domain, Jane."

I knew I shouldn't have asked. It looked like an old style heart monitor to me. Continuing the tour we walked out on the back porch and I could see several flower beds unfinished in different parts of the big yard. 

"Bill, what are you going to plant in those beds?" I queried. Yes, I was curious about everything. 

"Haven't planned anything yet Jane. Do you like gardening?" he asked. 

"Yes, love it," I promptly responded.

"Let's go look," he suggested.

Being female I took the initiative and started helping him plan.

"I think I would like to see Daylilies here in the sunny area. Yes, that would look good with pink and white Daylilies. Then we could put geraniums over there," I said, motioning with my finger.

Bill laughed and said he had just bought the geraniums. One thing lead to another, and we spent the next hour turning up the beds together. Bill drove me back to the hotel that evening tired and very happy.

Shannon was not in yet, but was still out for dinner. I jumped into the shower and afterwards wrapped in fresh towels lying on the bed, phoned Bill.

We talked for the next hour and Shannon had come in and was just finishing her shower when I hung up.

"Shannon, I have decide to stay in San Diego for a few more days after tomorrow." She nodded and asked if it was Bill. I answered honestly, "Yes." I told her I was involved in a gardening project and he had offered to put me up for a few days. She did not lecture. She heard the tone in my voice and just asked me to call her in a week or so to let her know I was OK. I agreed and reminded her I was going straight on to Hawaii and my parents afterwards. I then called to rebook my flight and then climbed into bed happy and very sleepy.

I spent the next morning with Shannon, then we checked out that afternoon. I hugged Shannon goodbye and I waited for Bill to come. A few minutes later he pulled up and off I went home with him.

We worked in the garden more, that late afternoon, Bill having been busy picking up plants all day. Later, after cleaning up he took me out for a splendid dinner at a Mexican restaurant around San Diego's Old Town area. Bill was fun to be with. We continued to become more comfortable and accustomed to each other.

I slept in the spare bedroom that night and had a fabulously restful sleep. 

In The Garden

Waking up early the next morning, we jogged several miles, and then had a light breakfast before starting our gardening work. We worked the soil together digging, lifting and turning. The yard was quiet, with only the chirping of the birds and I focused with a purposeful singularity on the job. A work out I needed -- to be lost in nature, to forget the past and future for a time. The smell of the fresh earth brought me back to my early adolescence and my love for gardening in Hawaii. Bill hauled the new soil in and I shoveled, my hair tied back in a bandanna. I caught his eyes watching me several times and I smiled back, once with the flutter of my eyebrows. A warm morning sun built too hot and we stopped after an hour of labor and sat on the back porch steps drinking water.

"Jane, are you going to be charging me for all this hard work?" Bill quizzed jokingly.

"Yeah, I'll be sending you my invoice Hon," I teased back.

I slid my hand over to the inside of his leg just below his shorts and gently touched him. I felt his slide arm around my waist and we sat quietly for a moment enjoying each other's touch. 




Contrasts



"Why am I always at a loss for words with you Jane?" he said rather honestly.

"Bill, you don't need to say anything to me. I can feel it too," I observed.

My head drifted to his shoulder and I closed my eyes in safe relaxation as I touched his shoulder. I let my thoughts wander as I rested and thought about him. It was a warm kind feeling, the start of a gentle love.

Sitting up, I stretched. "Well, back to work we go. Lets get this bed finished today," I stated with determination.

We shoveled, moved and turned more soil. Bill hauled in the plants and I freed them from the pots and planted them.

Hearing a banging on the fence I looked over and there was the most adorable little face peeking at me through the missing board.

"Hi, there!" I greeted. "What's your name?"

"Jessica," the little girl answered in slow little girl fashion.

She was a sweet as could be and must have been all of five.

"My Daddy is a policeman," she informed me.

"Oh," I answered sounding most impressed.

"Do you want to see my little brother?" she continued.

"Sure do," I replied back.

Standing and looking over the tall fence I found the mother, just as Bill came around the corner of the porch supporting a new wheel barrow full of plants.

"Hi, I just met your daughter," I called out to the woman.

"Hello," the mother greeted me back.

"Are you a friend of Bill's?" 

"Yes, I'm visiting for a while."

Bill now came over, "I see you have discovered little Jessica."

"More the other way around," I smiled.

Bill looking at his neighbor, introduced us. "Paula, meet Jane, she's in from the Seattle area for a week or so." 

"Hi, Jane, good to meet you," she replied and we smiled at each other.

I could see Paula's curiosity was up and she asked me how I knew Bill. I was a bit coy and told her we had known each other for about a year and had been involved in some Internet communication. She seemed to be satisfied that with that. Mentioning that I was employed as a nurse seemed to make her very content -- I was now a normal trustworthy person in her eyes. 

Bill chatted a bit with her about our garden project and she totally relaxed and accepted me.

Looking intent for a moment, Paula asked, "Bill, would you and Jane, like to come over for an early barbecue dinner this evening with us?" 

Bill looked at me and I quickly responded "Sure, we would love to." 

We worked until about three PM and finished one side of the yard and two full beds. Standing beside me Bill was covered in dirt and sweat. 

"Jane, this is the hardest I have worked on my backyard in years," he noted. I reached out and held his big hand, moving a bit closer to him.

"Well it was over due, my dear," I teased him lightly.

Smiling he responded, "Let's go get washed up. Paula, will be calling for us for dinner soon."

I showered first while Bill cleaned up the tools and walkways. I dressed in light shorts and a comfortable tank top. The shower felt good and I let it pulsate off my back and then my breasts. 

Bill came in, heading to the shower as I was sitting in the kitchen toweling off my hair.

"Feeling better?" he checked. I nodded and smirked back at him.

Walking in to the bathroom, he called back, "Jane, how can I shower with all this women's gear hanging up."

Rushing back into the bathroom I realized I had forgotten to take my underwear down.

"Bill, you're not used to having a woman around are you?" I pointed out. I guess I had left my clothing around and made myself comfortable. I hugged him around the waist, then scurried off to finish getting ready.

We walked around to Paula's front door and let ourselves in. She was in the kitchen and I helped out doing the salad as she worked on marinating several very nice cuts of steak. Little Jessica assisted by talking plastic cups to the backyard one at a time. Paula left the kitchen to carry out salad dressing and other items, when I heard the front door open and close.

This was followed by "Paula, I'm home," from an unseen husband.

I called out, "Hello."

I rather handsome policeman came though the door replying, "Well, hello, and who is this new wife in my house."

I giggled and reached over and shook hands, "I'm Jane, a friend of Bill's next door." 

"Well, hello, Jane, I'm Tony the cop next door to Bill," he said with a big grin.

I immediately liked him and responded, "Well, Tony, after you are changed, the new wife would like you to light the barbecue."

He laughed and said, "Right away Ma'am," then headed up the stairs to change.

The dinner was delicious and the company refreshing. 

After dinner the four of us sat together enjoying a glass of wine and watching Jessica play. Bill, who was drinking a beer, headed in to use the washroom. 

Tony leaned over to me and mentioned, "Jane, good to see you here. You know, Bill has not had a woman to his house in years." 

Tony was not dumb and he understood there was something between Bill and me.

I thought for a moment and just nodded back, "Thanks, Tony."

Paula and I started to clean up and I helped put the kids to bed as Bill and Tony chatted outside. Finishing the clean up we joined the guys for a second glass of wine.

Tony broke out the lawn darts and we played like a bunch of kids till after dark. Funny how the simplest things can be fun in a group and how adults can forget play in their lives. 

Hours later and well into darkness we thanked them and said good night. It was such a lovely night I asked Bill to walk with me for a while around the neighborhood. I enjoyed the pleasure of having a man to walk with and not to worry. Being a single girl, I rarely walk at night for enjoyment and do miss walking whenever I wanted. Now I had Bill beside me and I reached for his hand as we strolled.

That evening I didn't fall asleep immediately and kept thinking of Bill and what was happening with us. I felt safe and loved here and Bill was comfortable to be around. There was something else keeping me awake. I could feel myself in desire. I very quietly rubbed my breasts and softly squeezed my legs together. Yes, I was needing attention and satisfaction. It was then I heard Bill getting up to go to the bathroom. Lying back my concentration was broken and I didn't want to get caught masturbating -so gently I drifted off to sleep. 

The First Touches

Next day Bill took me on a naval base tour and we visited several ships. I had to sign on and off the base and Bill was familiar with many of the men there. It was all very interesting. 

Later we went for a late lunch and had a large meal. I was having so much fun and enjoyed every minute with Bill. Leaving the restaurant after our lunch I couldn't help but to grab his hand and hold it tight. My feelings for him had blossomed and I was in love again.

A beautiful warm evening descended on the city and Bill and I sat in on the back porch breathing the fresh air and bathing in each other's interest and attentions. We sat side by side and my head went to his shoulder as he slipped an arm around me. I shivered slightly and he snuggled me tight. We did not talk and yet communications flowed between us. My eyes searched his face and I slowly rubbed my nose against his neck. It was time and Bill turned and brushed my lips with a soft kiss. Both of us were like school kids again. Ours eyes met and stayed together. With trembling emotions we again touched lips and kissed fully. I held him tight and let him know I was in love. 

We sat quietly enjoying the new feelings and the new love.

Sensitively Bill turned to me and said, "Thank you Jane." 

I innocently replied back, "Thank you Bill," with a little girl look.

Growing a bit tired I was thinking of a shower and a quiet night. I mentioned to Bill I was going to head in and wash up. It had been a long day with much walking and activities.

I went in and slipped into my Kimono and readied my next days' clothing as Bill stayed out and enjoyed the evening. I started the kettle going in the kitchen for a cup of tea. Being somewhat full from the late lunch, I thought a cup a tea would hit the spot. Bill came in and sat down and I moved over to him and placed my arms around his neck and hugged him. There was definitely a feeling of love in the air, but it was a peaceful warm love of two lonely people. 

Bill looked up to me and said, "I have a request dear." He paused for a moment and looked a bit mischievous. "Well Jane, I was wondering if you would read 'Sunrise My Darling' to me so I could keep a voice original from the author," he asked earnestly.

I knew Bill was a big fan of my story and had mentioned it several times in our first e-mails. He had even proofread it for me. 

I broke out in a big smile and replied, "Of course."

It was the least I could do for all his kindness and generosity. He pointed me to the back room with all the electronic gear and the big oak desk. Bill, powered up an expensive looking cassette tape recorder and handed me a cordless microphone. 

Sitting up on the desk I took the mic in hand and started to read. Bill sat in the comfortable office chair in front of me. My kimono was closed and covered me to my ankles. 

"Bill, do you want me to read the foreword also?" I questioned.

"Please, I would like the complete story," he replied.

"OK," I answered with a bit of trepidation. "But then I get the shower first," I added smiling.

I started to read slowly, and with character I read my own words. For comfort I put my feet up on to the edge of Bill's chair trapping him in it. 

Occasionally I looked up and our eyes flashed at each other. It was a very warm evening and I could hear the muffled sounds of the residential street outside though the window on the other side of the room -- children shouting in play, a late evening lawn mower in the distance. But Bill's attention was focused on me completely. My reading slowed slightly and I started to watch him more. He looked so relaxed and serene as he listened to my words. Our eyes ran together and with my toe I tickled his side. He caught my foot and rubbed it. Gently I snaked my other foot around him and pulled him and the chair closer. My pulse increased as I read on, more and more our eye contact increased. I started the section where my uncle held my breasts and the emotional temperature in the room jumped. 

Bill was intently focused on me now. I passed the section where my beasts were bared and sucked. I rubbed Bill with my foot slightly more. Gradually the story brought us together. As I read the description of how my bathing suit bottom was slowly removed and my vagina licked, sexual tension filled the room. Bill was breathing hard and staring at me with wide eyes. The intimate sexual description flowed from me and I now became aroused. Pulling on Bill's chair with my feet, my legs opened and my kimono parted slightly. Describing how I moaned with my uncles tongue snaking and pulling at my vulva, Bill hands went up and held my bare knees. Casually, he started to caress me. I covered the section where my anus was licked and I could hear his breathing increase. On I read, as Bill massaged my lower legs. He reached down and opened a drawer and pulled out what looked like a small square piece of fur. Monetarily distracted I smiled at him as my eyes curiously probed the pelt. The heat and tension in the room were extreme. I continued on with the story. Gently Bill started to rub the lower inside of my leg with the piece of fur... oh, it was so soft and felt so good. 

As I described holding and feeling my uncle's penis, Bill worked his way up the inside of my knee. Perceptibly and almost unconsciously I opened for him. My erotic words filled the room as I described how my virginal sex organs were pierced. Bill massaged the fur up to my crotch teasing the sensitive inside of my thigh. I opened my legs wide and words trembled off my lips. Tenderly Bill teased me around my crotch as my horniness increased. He touched me on the outside of my panties and my words broke. Trembling I fought to keep control and continue. I read on with a nervous shudder and deliberately raised my legs up, placing my feet on the arms of the chair. Once again Bill brushed my vagina and this time my bum started to wiggle in and out. I was going into heat here and now and could not stop it. I read to the part where my uncle was thrusting into my young womanhood and stopped. My eyes were on Bill and my breathing deep and powerful. With a delicate touch Bill leaned forward and kissed the inside of thigh well towards my sex. This was my sensitive area and I quivered in response. 

Bending my head down to him, I whisper in his ear, "Oh Bill honey, I'm not fresh." 

"Just the way I want you, girl," he soothed me. 

I knew I was fragrant from the walking we had done in the afternoon heat. I could smell my own feminine aroma coming out, so I could only image that it filled Bill's male nose. Kissing me again next to my panty edge I could tell he was smelling me. This started to excite me as I watched him from just above, wafting in my scent. He licked the inside of my leg almost to the panty line.

"Yessss, you smell so very wonderful," he murmured out.

Gently I felt his nose push against my crotch on the outside of my panties. I trembled and pushed against him. He reached up and pulled my kimono open exposing me with just my white panties and bra on. My hand encircled his head as he rubbed my loins with his nose. I watched in fascination as his tongue came out and began licking at my cotton covered crotch. I couldn't stand it any more and started to oscillate to his touches and I could feel my wetness start. His big hands ran up the outside of my legs to the top waist elastics of my bikini panties. He slowly rolled them down. My breathing was in rasps as we touched eyes. I knew what was going to happen and lifted my bum. Ever so slowly my panties came down. I was helpless and needed this as I continued to pulsate my groin in and out at him. My hair was now exposed and he watched the show from the front seat. I had lost control now as I sat on his desk while my womanhood was laid bare. 

"Oh, Jane, honey you have beautiful lips, Oh, my God," his voice nervous, now had a shudder.

He pulled my underwear over my knees I bought my feet together as he removed them. Gripping my ankle he spread my legs wide. I watch as my vulva was opened to his gaze. 

"Now it's my turn to smell you sweetheart. You don't know how I have dreamed about this," stated Bill.

Placing his nose against the inner part of my leg he ran it up to my vagina, ticking me a little as he proceeded. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I looked down and intensely watch him smell me. He started at he top of my lips, gently touching his nose on my black pubic hair. With a rush I heard him draw in the air as he inhaled me. Moving just below my clit he repeated the action. 

"Oh, Jane, you smell luscious." 

My hands circled the back of his head and I pulled him gently into my sex. Bill's tongue darted out as he tasted his first touch of my wetness. With infinite care he ran his tongue along the vertical edge of my outer lips. My legs trembled at the caresses and the inside center of my labia glistened as I moistened with sexual desire. Bill's artful tongue, washed the edge of my sex organs as he wove though the small black pubic hairs next to the inside hollow of my leg. He had discovered my sensitive spot and I sat mouth breathing with nervous shudders as I looked down. Opening his mouth wide he placed his lips at the inside root of my leg and nibbled and mouthed me as he brought his lips together. My ass rose and I exhaled loudly. 

Suddenly he gobbled me, pushing his tongue deep into my vulva and licking upwards. I moaned in extreme delight as he tasted me in my most private spot. My loins pushed out to him and I grasped his head hard. 

"More, Bill, please," I begged, like a female Oliver Twist.

He pulled at my pubic hair with his mouth and nuzzled my sex lips with his nose. I heard his rasping breath and the slurping as he sucked and pulled at my swollen wet labia. He slowed and found my pink hood and exposed my erect clitoris. I shook as he ran his tongue over it three or four times in a row. I swallowed in nervous excitement, and my hands trembled as I held his ears.

"Please Bill suck it," I moaned.

Gently he pulled on it with his lips and released. I gasped shaking and quivering all over.

"Again," I panted. 

Bill looked up at me and grinned, "As you request my love."

This time he pulled my wet fleshy sex bud into his mouth and held it there. I squirmed and wiggled again in his hold and loved the feeling. Releasing my hard bud, Bill dropped low and licked into my vaginal hole. I reared up my ass in sexual pleasure, moaning several times. Leaning back to give him better access, I knock several books and something else to the floor in the process.

Looking up at me Bill panted out, "Jane you're beautiful between your legs. I love your smell and taste."

"Lick me Bill, lick me," I shot back not believing the words came from my mouth.

I was horny and this was my time.

Bill descended lapping at my opening, "Mhh, your juice is so good, darling."

I felt his tongue enter me and he spread my legs as far as possible and held them there with his big callused hands. "Nice young sweet pussy," I heard him mumble as he licked at the inside walls of my vagina. Wet, juicy sounds filled the room from his tongue and lips. I ground my sex into his face as he orally took me. I groaned on every exhale now and he looked up and noticed. 

"That's a good girl, enjoy yourself here."

I watched him eat me with my desire on my face. By reflex my bum cheeks squeezed together at each lash of his tongue on my labia.

"Now hold yourself open for me girl," he softly appealed. 

I reached down to comply and he mouthed into my tangle of pubic hair again. I pulled my labia apart and spread myself as he watched on.

"Beautiful, oh just beautiful," he observed.

I pulled my lips to the end of their limit and he ran his tongue up and down the inside them. Stopping just below my clit he located my pee hole and started to work it. 

"Mhh, salty aaah, that tastes good," He reported back. 

I groaned again in delight and urged him on.

He chuckled, "You like this don't you." 

With my eyes half open I submitted, and replied, "Yes."

The desk blotter was soaked in lubrication and saliva. 

"More Bill," I kept repeating, as I wiggled my vagina in his face.

Bill placed his hands under my bum and mentioned something about fine wine as he proceeded to eat me. I lay back and bucked and wiggled as he set the pace. I loved the tenderness and care he showed me and responded by displaying my full feminine passions to his view and senses. 

Slowing he looked up and asked if I was comfortable. My bum was getting a bit sore so I asked to go to the bedroom. He picked me up and carried me there. I could smell my womanly juices on his face. There I was; a young girl naked from the waist down being carried to this older gentleman's bedroom. I was so vulnerable at this time, but I could also feel the love between us. Bill was a careful and slow lover. I knew he hadn't had a women in years -- possible well before his wife passed away. Now he had me and was as appreciative as could be.

The Release of Love's Desires

Lowering me to his bed he put me on all fours kneeling down. He slid my kimono off and there I was bare with just a bra on. His large callous hands roamed over me, feeling my waist and hips. He rubbed my back and reached around with both hands to cup my covered breasts.

"I can feel your hard nipples honey," he observed.

I just smiled at him and he ran his hands down my tummy in to my loins. His finger searched my labia then ran to my vaginal hole. Pushing my lips apart he searched for the entrance to my body. I tensed as he found it and every so slowly and cautiously pushed in. I held absolutely still and the only sound in the room was our mutual nervous breathing and the soft sound of body sex. He explored me in the most private manner and I gently swayed to his finger. Oh it felt nice as he wiggled his finger deep inside my vagina. 




Contrasts



"You're wet and warm and soft my young girl."

I squeezed his finger with my internal muscles.

"Mmh nice," he responded.

Pulling his finger out he started to rub my bum.

Staying on all fours on the bed, I looked forward as Bill rubbed my bare cheeks. Gently he swirled across my bum as he massaged my buttocks. Occasionally he stopped to fondle me and squeeze a side at a time. I was thoroughly relaxed and enjoying the attention.

"Mhh, Jane, you are so soft and I love the flair in your hip," noted Bill.

Reaching over the top of my lower back Bill firmly held my loins. He was facing backward to me and looking over the top at my bum. He continued his rubbing slipping between my cheeks as he explored the top of my bum canyon. 

Kissing my cheeks Bill, whispered, "I love your feminine smells Jane." 

I sensed him shift slightly above as he fondled me. It was then I felt a splatter on the top of my bum cleft and something warm slowing oozing down. Then a second plop, followed by Bills finger as he carefully shepherded the wad of spit downwards. 

"Bill, what's happening back there?" I quizzed rather innocently.

"Shh, relax dear, I'm going to make you feel very good."

With that I buried my head in the pillow and let the feelings come. I felt his finger, gently rubbing the inside of my cheeks at a leisurely pace back and forth, as he made his way down. I shivered from the caresses as Bill massaged me in a most intimate way. 

"Oh, Bill, that makes my tummy tingle when you rub my bum like that," I quivered. 

"Mmmhh, good, my Love," is all Bill responded with.

As he touched my anus I tensed, but carefully his big finger relaxed me as he delicately traced small rings around my opening.

"Oaahh," I mewed out in pleasure.

Moving his other hand back to my bum he spread my cheeks and opened me up. I felt one more plop of spit and then he pushed into my body. I instinctively started to squeeze my checks together to stop the intruder. 

"Relax, honey," Bill repeated, smiling at me.

Wiggling his slippery finger in my back hole he pierced me. I shuddered and I felt myself being spread. Slowly Bill worked his large callused finger into my bum as I stayed still. I had stopped resisting and was now submitting to his unrelenting slow drilling. My breathing was wracked with excited shudders. Sensitively he worked his finger around my rectum as he massaged my insides. Once again Bill reached over me with his free arm and under my vulva with his hand. He pushed his fingers up against my clitoris and gave me gentle but firm pressure. I sighed back and pushed my head deeper into the pillow trying to hide my sexual desires from this man. My body betrayed me as I started to rub and wiggle my womanhood on his fingers. At the same time my bum moved in and out as I was being worked in my anus by his finger. I started to sigh and groan on each exhale. His finger in my rear hole was like a desire thermometer and I could not hide my sexual responses from it. 

"It's OK, Jane," he coaxed me on.

I start to pant as I rubbed hard into his fingers. My clit was swollen and on his finger tips. He held me in the most personal way. He worked me, and worked me, as no man ever has. God how did he learn to do this to a woman. My legs failed under me as they slowly spread apart on the bed and my bum sank down as my desire yearned for his fingers.

"Oh, Bill, oh Bill," I moaned out in sexual delight.

Reaching down with both my hands I held his, as he held my vulva. My lubrication dripped all over his fingers and my sex scent filled the bedroom. I know he could smell it, and somehow this excited me more. Looking back I watched him, and he smiled back at me. On my face were my emotions and he knew he had me. I started to push and rock into his fingers in earnest now gasping at every breath. My breaths were long deep puffs and I gasped for more air. Sweat beaded on my back as my body sought sexual fulfillment on his fingers. On and on we went, with him massaging my insides on one side and my clit on the other.

"Come on, Jane, come on," he pushed me

Quivering and grinding on his finger with my clitoris, I worked it. My lower torso twisted as I tried to seek the pleasure from both sides at the same time. No matter which way my bum wiggled I was stimulated simultaneously. 

Behind me Bill started to lick the deep lower hollow of my back and my upper cheeks. I moaned in response to the sensory overload of pleasures. His finger in my rectum kept a constant and steady slow pace as he drove me into feminine heat. I then realized he was working me at his pace and different from my natural resonance. He was controlling me slower than my normal rhythm and driving me insane with pleasure. How did he get control of my body like this? Keeping his palm against my clit he slipped a finger in to my vagina and pushed on the front inside wall. Something snapped in me and I couldn't hold back anymore.

I felt the burn of a huge orgasm starting. Tremors shook though my uterus as I built to a climax and I pushed hard on to his hand as he held me. A huge orgasm racked my loins and all dignity left me, as I squealed and cried out. My body shook vigorously and tremors rocked my spine. Wave after wave of spasms released from my loins traveled into his hands. Bill immediately pulled tight and clamped onto me as I came. My leg muscles were locked rigid, and I dripped with sweat and panted in desire. My sexual lubrication dribbled down his hand in wet private intimacy. 

"That's it honey, let it come, let it come," he urged, as he held me and enjoyed my climax. Bill held steady pressure on my vulva and pushed his other finger deeper into my ass. He lay his head on my bum and felt and absorbed my bucking and shaking. I squeezed hard on his finger in my bum and he measured the intensity of my orgasmic power. 

Finished I lay quivering as Bill continued to massage my vulva and anus. I rocked in the aftermath, just enjoying the feelings pulsating though me. I didn't care any more about dignity or anything I just wanted to be close to him and have his hands in me. Slowly he wound me down and I lay back in loving defeat. Pulling his hand out from under me, he let me settle. Sensitively he continued to rub my anus. 

"You needed that, didn't you, Jane?" asked Bill.

I just nodded back a yes, my eye lids at half mast. Oh, was I ever enjoying the rubbing he was giving me. I had released my feminine animal passions and let him see me as I came. Hearing a little pop noise, I realized that Bill had removed his finger from my rear hole. I groaned again from the feeling. He got up and went into the bathroom. I heard the water running, but just lay on the bed wasted from my orgasm. Bill returned and sat beside me. I felt a warm wet cloth on my lower back as he started to wash me. Lightly he moved up and down my back and I relaxed completely. This was ecstasy and I loved it. I did notice had returned with a small container of warm soapy water. Dipping the cloth into the warm water he rinsed and continued to wash me. Carefully he opened my legs and washed down into my anus and between my legs. Closing my eyes I sighed in absolute happiness -- he new just how to treat a woman. Rolling me over Bill once again spread my legs as he washed my vagina. Pulling my labia out and apart he ever so delicately cleaned me. The warm cloth on my clit relaxed me and I felt my muscles go limp. I watched him with my eyes half closed, reaching out to touch him now and then. My bra was still on as he washed my tummy to the top of my waist. Bill leaned over and kissed me on the lips. 

"Does that feel better, Jane?" He checked. 

"Yes, dear," I responded, very contented.

He pulled his T-shirt and shorts off and climbed in beside me and we kissed and rubbed our faces together.

Rolling over on top of him I took the dominant position. Bill, reached for my bra clip and I caught his wrists with a quickness and strength that he did not expect. 

Looking down at him and smiling I ordered, "Don't touch." My eyes were sharp and mischievous feminine orbs.

Bill looked startled, "Jane, have I done something wrong?" 

Still smiling, I stated, "It has been a long time for you my dear." 

Bill still looked puzzled. "Being with a woman, silly," I mockingly scolded. "Times and women have changed and you are still an old fashioned man." 

Dropping my head low I kissed him hard and then rubbed noses. "Now hands behind your head and watch," I instructed. 

"Yes, Jane my love," he surrendered.

Reaching back I undid my bra clip and while he watched, very slowly exposed my breasts. His eyes followed my every move. 

"I'm not big, Bill, but I will make you happy," I promised.

Being in excellent shape my chest muscles are strong and supple, holding my breasts up and conical. I could go bra-less when-ever I wanted. Slowly I lowered my chest to Bill's face. 

"Don't suck me until I tell you Hon," I requested, taking control of the situation. Gently I outlined his lips with my nipples, carefully teasing him with my sensitive points. Immediately they rose to hard long shafts. He desirously kissed them back. 

Pushing my bust into the side of his face I started to massage him, like only a woman can.

"Mmh, I like this," Bill murmured.

Forcefully I held his head in my lower cleavage and let him smell me as I perspired in love. His breathing was warm and excited on my tits. I rubbed his face all over as he bathed in my softness. My nipples pressed his closed eyes and he felt their length. Carefully I shifted over and placed my armpit over his nose.

"Smell me Bill, smell my body," I urged him. With intense intimacy he placed his nose into my wet armpit and breathed in. I reached down with my other hand and slipped it into his underwear and held the head of his erection. He shuddered and continued to rub his nose under my arm. 

"Oh lick me honey," I begged. 

His tongue now unleashed, lashed my sensitive underarm area. I once again felt my vaginal wetness flow. My eyes closed and I groaned in pleasure. My armpit is so sensitive and Bill licked me just right. Pulling away I pushed my erect nipple into his mouth. I watched his eyes open wide and I breathed the air he just exhaled.

"Now Bill, drink my milk darling," I implored. 

Bill didn't say a word as he pulled at my nipples and I breast fed him like I would a baby, stroking his face my with my hands as he alternated sides. I fed him my love and passions. We lay together holding each other, with long kisses, our tongues meeting and rubbing together. Bill was so tender and so relaxed. Hopping off him, I pulled his briefs down and exposed him nude. I held his testicles and massaged his shaft up and down. He lay still, breathing in deep gulps. The smell of his penis filled my nose and I approved. 

"You like that?" I teasingly quizzed.

Bill grinned back and nodded. I slowed my stroking not wanting him to come yet. Gently I climbed back on him and took his penis in my hand. I guided him to my vagina and started to rub my labia on his tip. He started to push up to me but I slid him up to my clit and rubbed at the top of my vulva. I ran his glands over my clit and tremble myself at the feelings. My labia were swollen and ready for penetration. Locking onto Bill's eyes I rubbed his cock on my dripping wet hole preparing him for the plunge. Separating my lips I lowered myself on his shaft. Bill's neck muscles were tight and bulged as he strained to watch. Up and down I slowly took his manhood into me. Tremors rolled up and down my back as we mated. 

All was quiet except for the slurping of our sex and our mutually heavy breathing. I pushed down as I felt his glans deep in my insides. My pubic hair met his as I took all of him. Circularly I oscillated on him as I watch his face glow in rapture. With my internal muscles I squeezed hard on his erection then pulled up. Bill groaned in delight. I'm much stronger than most women and have a very strong set of abdominal muscles. Bill felt them all as I held his shaft and sucked it up. I started slowly at first and rode him hard as he pushed up to meet my drops. Sweat beaded down us as we satisfied our animal cravings. At all times I kept my eyes locked on his, watching to make sure he did not get too close to coming.

"Don't come," I urged him on, then repeated it again. Bill breathing was in deep long breaths. I was working him hard.

"Jane let me come," he begged, "Please."

I glared into his eyes. Slowing I stopped and pulled off of him. My hand was on his chest I could feel his heart pounding in his chest like a piston. 

"Get on top of me" I requested.

Bill spread my legs and plunged back into my hot wet vagina. I wrapped my legs around him and held his waist. 

"Hard and fast now Bill," I ordered in passionate heat.

He was heavy and I let him pin and hold me like a dominant male. His hands went under my bum and I lifted my hips. But instead of slamming me he started slowly with long grinding strokes. I again squeezed on his shaft as he dragged it out, then I let it easily plunge in again. My bum oscillated in motion with him. Deep inside me I could feel his bulbous head slide across my velvet soft mucus membranes. I was soaking both of us in lubricating wetness. Bill licked my neck and I savored it.

"Harder," I urged him on. 

"Soon Love," he replied, gasping.

This slow motion pumping was driving me insane and I pushed and pulled at his manhood wanting more. The feminine sexual animal in me was escaping and I was helpless to stop it. He kept on at his slow pace. He was using time to build my horniness to a peak. I licked and mouthed his neck back, gasping my breaths out at him. Throwing away any honor I had, I again begged for hard thrusting. This time he responded, riding me hard and fast. I wrapped my legs tighter around him and moaned in tormented pleasure as I received my request. I wiggled my wet womanhood on his hard cock, forcing him to come. Bill all the time looking at and watching me. 

Slowing he pleaded, "Jane let me come!"

"Come Honey, come, come," I chanted to him.

Bill gasped and grunted in my ear as he built to a peak. Closing his eyes he did push deep into me and throbbing he let his semen pour out into my womb. I watched in fascination as his face puckered in excruciating ecstasy and I enjoyed his orgasm. I felt him tense as he sprayed each burst out. Four maybe five times I felt the spurts before they faded to nothing. God, was he happy. God, was I happy.

We lay together hot and sticky just holding each other. I rubbed his ear with my nose saying nothing. I enjoyed the pounding of his heart on my chest. I bathed in the intimate wetness of our love bed. Bill went to pull out and I dragged him back down.

"No, stay in me longer," I whispered. 

He settled back down. Squeezing him with my arms I was making up for too many lonely nights by myself. I rubbed the middle of his back and ran my legs up and down the outside of his. My eyes watered as my emotions display liked fireworks. The intense sex over, the intense emotions continued the coupling of us into one. Words nor touch alone could convey the feelings. I started to mew into his ear as my most sensitive private passions emerged. I was a exposed young female, with an older man buried deep inside me. I squeezed him and rubbed him everywhere I could with any part of my body. I tried to climb inside him and live with him. My tears came and I was unashamed. I was a virgin again for a man that wanted one. We slept together that night, comfortable and happy. The lonely mature man and the lonely young woman, no longer alone.

A Future Life

The next morning we sat together with a breakfast of toast, cereals and orange juice. Our eyes flirted with each other. Then Bill became very serious.

"Jane, I know we have not been together very long, but I... well... I," he stammered, not knowing how to put it into words.

I stopped eating and watched him. He looked back awkwardly, again lost for words.

"Bill, are you asking me to stay with you?" I asked.

"Hell yes! I love you, Jane, and I don't know any other way to say this," he replied sincerely.

"Bill, I love you." I replied easily. "But I don't know if staying would be right for both of us. It's too soon to know. I have so many things I'm working at in my life now. I have my career and my job." I was wrestling with this not having a chance to think about it much. "Bill, I will want a family. Can you say you are honestly ready to go through that again? Have you really thought this through?" 

His eyes dropped and I could see he had not. 

"Bill, I understand, I understand loneliness and I to do feel the pull. If it is right we will be together. I think though, that we need to be apart first and do some soul searching." 

"Jane, I don't think I have to think about this much to see what I want. The idea of a new family is a bit daunting though at my age and I must be honest I was not thinking about your needs in that way. But at this moment I would do anything you want, including a family. Maybe you're right, time apart will bring out the reality of being together." 

He was reflecting now with much thought.

"Bill, if it is right for us then it will happen," was all I could think of adding.

We both started to smile at each other and he reached for my hand. The rest of the morning we worked in the garden and then went out for lunch. It was a golden time for the two of us. That night we again made passionate love. This was our last night together and we hungered for each other. 

A Touch -- Forever

Both of us were quiet during the drive to the airport. We had discussed all that was needed and now just enjoyed each others warm glow. Being six AM, we stopped for a light breakfast in the small lobby cafeteria. Our time left together was short and we watched each other closely.

"Take care of our garden," I requested more out of conversation and a need to be intimate.

"Sure Jane, I will tend it," Bill replied with sad eyes.

The PA blared the flight number.

"Bill please walk me to the gate," I wanted him near me longer.

Bending over Bill lifted my carry on bag then reached for my hand. Together we slowly walked to the gate.

"Well, next stop Honolulu X," I was trying to cheer myself up a little.

We stopped in front of the gate entrance and I hugged him tightly. 

"Bill, I will write as soon as I get home, it will be just like before. Thank you for everything... I mean everything," my head was pushed up against his neck. "I will be with you again," I whispered.

"Jane, it's OK, we have had a special time together and it was beautiful. It has meant everything to me," he quietly replied. "Hey time to go, your mom is waiting for you and you have much to catch up on," he tried to smile.

My lips went to him and I kissed him deeply and passionately with my soul touching his. He held me almost lifting me off my feet and I felt his love flow. 

"I love you, Bill. I will never forget this as long as I live," my watery eyes probed him and we communicated silently. From across the lobby a man shouted abruptly.

"Hey, Bill, how are you doing?" he called. A partially over weight man about Bills age came marching over. 

"Hi, Paul," Bill greeted half heartily.

Bill, still held me close and I whispered up to him, "I have to go, Hon."

Bill's attention was split between us and he kissed me lightly and released me.

"Who's the good looking gal, Bill?" the slightly forward speaking acquaintance asked.

As I slowly walked away, I heard Bill tell him, she's my niece. His words hit me like a brick and I dropped my bag and ran back. I wrapped my arms around him like steel bands and my mouth reached for his lips. I once more kissed him like a fresh lover.