0 comments/ 17575 views/ 0 favorites Good Things Come...Ch. 1 By: Endlessly Part I: Prologue It had been 7 months since I had met him, 6 months 3 weeks since I had known him, and 6 months in which I had loved him. His name was James. He had unruly hair, fashionably cut and the most intriguing shade of brown, like dark chocolate; when looking in his eyes, one wondered if they contained all the answers to the mysteries of life and love, or if they were just-opaque. His body was slim and muscular, and more inspiring than any sermon or painting. But none of this was within my realm of knowledge. Not at first. I'm a fairly sarcastic, sardonic individual; though I spend a good deal of time on my computer, I've always found the people pathetic enough to develop online relationships to be excellent fodder for my caustic wit. Suffice it to say that, after meeting James in a chat room at the online community for which we both work, I realized how amazingly wrong I was. He met me word for word in our banter; he admired the handiwork of the walls I had erected around myself, and I admired the craftsmanship of his. It took me a week to decide I wished to break the walls down around both of us. James had problems-problems mostly with trust. I wanted him to believe in me more than anything else-I wanted, no, NEEDED him to know I was who I said I was; even more than his love, I needed his trust. Which was why, four months after I met him online, I skipped buying books for my inaugural semester of college (don't tell my parents!) and used the money to buy James a verrrrrry special birthday present: a plane ticket across the country, and two weeks with me in my dorm room. When I first bought him the ticket, I never dreamed he might be as attracted to me as I was to him-in his pictures, his masculine beauty was so awe-inspiring, and next to him, I felt plain, perhaps even on the homely side. Women are so good at picking out their faults! I know I'm no beauty queen, but I wouldn't say I'm hideous-my skin is perhaps a tad bit too pale, but my legs are long, and though my figure is on the full side, it's an hourglass, and quite proportionate to my height. My only really outstanding feature, I'd say, is my hair; jet-black, and falling nearly to my waist. I sighed with months of pent-up relief when James told me how much he loved black hair. In the three months between me surprising him with the ticket and his visit, James and I got remarkably close, perhaps culminating in the few days right when I arrived at college. My parents drove me to the campus the day before check-in, and we stayed in a hotel close to campus. It was that night that I first spoke to James on the phone... The conversation was innocent and idle, though one exchange sticks out in my mind: as a complete non-sequitur, James said, "It's a theory of mine that the topic of any conversation between a male and a female degenerates into sex." This struck me as a bit of a surprise, but I thought I handled it well. "I.. Well, I'm sure you're right." "Right about what?" "That it degenerates into sex." It was the first time he and I had spoken, but I still knew him well enough to know he was smiling. "Sorry. I just never heard you say the word 'sex' before." This, however, was not the first time I heard his voice-I had a toll-free voicemail number, and he'd recited one of his favorite poems on it. To this day, I remember listening to his voice over and over, lying on my back on my waterbed at home... cupping my breasts gently and crying tears of joy-silently, so as not to mar the beauty of his voice. As an incoming freshman, I'd never spent a large amount of time away from home before, and the first night in my dorm room struck me far harder than I ever could imagine. I could only think of one way to beat my homesickness: calling the young man who had become my home, even if he didn't know he had. We talked about nothing for the longest time, and then he started complaining. "My grandparents are visiting, and they're sleeping in my room. Dammit, I can't get online and look up any erotic stories. How'm I supposed to sleep tonight?" Erotic literature was one passion that we both shared; it was the only way to beat insomnia at times. I chuckled. "Well, I'd read you one of the ones I have, but I've got neighbors now." That bare sentence drove him wild. "Oh, God, Moira... You have NO idea how in love I am with your voice. Please... Please..." That did it. I was young and in love; I would have done anything he asked after he used the L-word, and read him an erotic story was the least of it. I quickly chose a wonderful story about a blindfolded woman who was teased with ice at the side of a pool.. One that had gotten me through many a lonely night back home. I thought his speaking voice was the most erotic thing I'd ever heard until I heard him moan and sigh; I was scarcely paying attention to the words I read, listening to his reactions. He growled and moaned my name, and I knew he had climaxed. His breath returned to normal slowly, and I was as dazed as he was. I'd only spoken to him once before, and he'd just shared something with me so intensely personal... Finally, he spoke. "Did you touch yourself at all?" I blinked in surprise, and blushed profusely. "...No, actually." There was a pause of disbelief. "Aren't you the least bit turned on?" My blush deepened. "Of course I am. God, your voice..." He sighed, then chuckled. "Moira, you were very bad not to pleasure yourself, and you're going to pay for it." "What do you mean?" "Well... I'm lying on my bed, completely naked, covered in sweat with a stream of cum pooled on my abdomen. You did that." That picture seared my mind like a branding iron: James lying in the half-darkness with the sheen of perspiration giving his skin an almost otherworldly luminescence; and the cum pooled on his well-chiseled abdomen, a pool of sweet liquid moonlight. I let out a low exhale, and my hand began moving instinctively down my prone body. The exhale was all the response he needed. "Have you ever tasted a man's cum before?" In the darkness, my hand paused only momentarily in its descent. "No." "Have you ever wanted to?" My breath caught shakily. "Yes... I just haven't found a man I trust enough to let cum in my mouth." His voice lowered, silken and soft and erotic, as warm and wet as the feeling between my legs... As if his voice was seeping from within me. "Oh, but you know you can trust me." He chuckled gently. "Would you let me cum in your mouth?" My hand moved to my clitoris with neither my knowledge nor consent, and I gasped. I wasn't complaining. "Yes." "Would you let me crawl between your legs? Flick my tongue gently against your clit? Could I drink your wetness?" I moaned. "Yessss.." His voice was suddenly businesslike. "Good." He said nothing else. "Wh-what?" He chuckled. "I told you, you'd pay for being bad tonight. Are you still dressed?" I looked down at my body; it was late, and I was wearing a short satin nightgown and some white cotton panties, high-cut. "More or less." "Make it less. No, make it not at all." I nodded until I had regained my wits enough to realize he could not hear me nod over the phone. "Hold on." "Make it quick." My hands trembled and fumbled, but I made short work of my nightgown and panties. "All right." "Are you naked?" "Of course I am." I shivered, feeling exposed; there was a diffused half-light filtering through my pale white curtain, allowing the hint of moonlight to seep in like mercury. My skin, normally pale, seemed so white it was almost light; the smooth surface of my torso was only marred by goosebumps. I laid back down on my bed, shifting, naked in the moonlight. "Good." He sounded satisfied, and I was happy. I wanted to please him so badly.. "I would love to see you naked right now." "I would love for you to see me." And oddly, it was the truth; I'd always been so self-conscious when it came to my body-I'm not overweight, but I'd be a bit top-heavy if it weren't for my wide hips. These proportions might have been considered 'sexy' way back when, but one visit to a five-seven-nine store showed exactly what the modern opinion was of women built like me. I'd always felt ugly.. But I would have loved for James to see me in that moment, long white legs draped across eachother, lean abdomen, palest skin save for the light tan aureoles on my breasts, the black of my hair fading into the shadows. It was amazing; James made me feel beautiful. "Are you wet?" That was a silly question; I was going to have to wash my comforter tomorrow I was dripping so much. "Of course." "Are you touching yourself?" I blushed. "No." He sighed. "I'D be touching myself, if I were you." "You would be?" God, the idea of him inhabiting my body.. Dictating my actions.. "You bet I would be. I'd be running my palms across my breasts, down my ribs.." My hands instinctively followed his words, and it felt incredible.. My skin felt like rough silk beneath my hands. "Over my hips.. Across my thighs.." When I moved my hands across my thighs, I gasped; it was as if the pads of my fingers had sent an electric shock straight to my clitoris. "Right to my inner thighs.. And up." A finger went directly to my clitoris, which was slick and hard as a moss-covered pebble at the ocean. I moaned softly. "What do you taste like?" "I.. I don't know." "Taste yourself." I came out of my erotic reverie for a second to blink. "I.. I don't know.. That's a bit.." "What? A bit kinky? You're masturbating on the phone with someone you've never met. Don't even TRY to tell me tasting yourself is kinky." James had a point. I brought a finger to my lips, and licked it tentatively-the taste was amazingly good. I brought the finger into my mouth to suck on. James chuckled at the silence. "How do you taste?" "I.. I like it. It's tangy.. And sort of sweet." "Just the way fresh pussy should taste. Lovely." I could hear him smiling, as odd as it sounds to say so. "But don't forget to put that hand back to work." I nodded dumbly and my finger, wet with saliva, went back to my clitoris, rubbing slowly as I moaned underneath my breath. James sighed. "You should be louder." "I'm surrounded on all sides by neighbors.. It's my first night here, I don't want to wake them up." "And you don't want to give them something to talk about? Why, Moira, I expected more from you.." He chuckled; then the prepaid phonecard I had called James with insistently informed me I only had 30 seconds left. "Ah, I suppose I'll leave you with your fantasies for the night." "But I didn't cum yet!" He chuckled evilly. "I know. I told you you'd pay." "I hate you!" I tried not to laugh. "Oh, no you don't. Well.. Enjoy the rest of your first night in college." My first night? ..I'd forgotten. Shifting on my bed, I heard a sticky sound from between my legs. It seemed as if the ache and loneliness and homesickness had seeped out of me, and nothing was left but a warm contentment (and a certain amount of horniness). "Thank you, James." My voice was soft, grateful, as I realized what he had purposely done for me. I would have bet money that he was blushing, there in the darkness. "Oh, it was nothing. Sweetest of dreams, Moira.. And get your computer hooked up before I begin to miss you." The operator hung up on both of us, and later that night, I drifted off to sleep.. Lying naked on my bed, the back of one hand against my cheek, the other gently cupping my pussy. That was three months ago. Now, at 8:30 on some idle Saturday morning, I was pacing nervously in a dingy Greyhound bus station. Being so early, it was fairly empty; there were bums sitting near the entrance, and a few Mansonite-looking kids with various piercings playing video games. I felt very conspicuous; a timid fresh-faced college girl who'd never in her life had a reason to be in the "bad" part of a town she was fairly new to. Brushing my hair until it shined, choosing the most casually flattering clothes and my clean white platform sneakers made perfect sense in my dorm room; now, these things just added to my feeling of not belonging to this place or time. I then heard the bus pull up and stop. Even now, it's difficult to describe the feelings that shot through me at that moment.. Panic-panic sounds pretty apropos. Adrenaline shot through me like a street-corner drug, and it took every ounce of my conviction to keep from bolting out the door and into my car, leaving that place behind. I wasn't ready to meet James. I couldn't be ready to meet James. I wasn't what he wanted, I was far too plain and dull and unintelligent and- There he was. It sounds trite to say the world went mute and time stood still. I don't care; it's what happened. I couldn't hear anything-he moved toward me like we were underwater. In that moment, I memorized everything about him: the mole on the lower left of his chiseled chin, the pebblish-soft texture of his black leather jacket, the oddly attractive bony bump on the bridge of his nose, the exact degree of the curves on his full lips. But more than anything.. Those opaque eyes. They seemed like black diamonds, like faceted onyx. How something that deep and dark could sparkle was beyond me, but they did. Many thoughts flew through my mind as he came nearer. I should say something. Should I kiss him? Shake his hand? Slap him on the shoulder? We weren't in a relationship, we were close friends who had shared a few things that brought us closer. I had no idea how to react.. My arms opened without my permission, trembling slightly. He walked into them, as I always knew he would, and they closed gently and firmly around his form. His eyes closed and he melted into my body, nestling his head in the crook of my neck with a sigh that sounded ancient, as if it had been pent up for centuries. In the middle of this dingy, frightening, ugly bus station, surrounded by freaks and weirdos.. I felt like I was home. To Be Continued... Good Things Come...Ch. 2 I drove James back to my dorm room, and we talked idly; I nearly wrecked more than once because I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He was a dream incarnate, sitting next to me making funny, caustic remarks about this town I was only now beginning to think of as home. "This reminds me a lot of Germany." I glanced over at him, grateful for an excuse to do so. "Germany?" "Yeah.. I went to high school overseas.. And for some reason, this place reminds me of Germany. Without the nazis." I quirked an eyebrow. "Of course." Walking him to my dorm room felt like a religious experience. It was late fall, and the wind blew golden leaves gently across the long cobblestone walkway. Fall was beautiful, especially late October, and the picturesque, small campus of my college looked every bit like the postcards they sold in the student bookstore. Ever since the phone call where he talked me through my first night on campus, every time I had walked the cobblestone path to my dorm, I'd imagined I was walking with him through those postcards, showing him where I lived.. Showing him my home. And I was finally doing it. When we got to my dorm room, the first thing he had to do was unpack.. And the first thing my friend and next-door neighbor, Kristina, had to do was come and check him out. The first moment that James had his back to us, Kris shot me a look and mouthed the words, "I hate you." I giggled, and James turned around. "Something humorous, young lady?" "Oh, not at all." Kris and I began giggling again. He eyed the two of us suspiciously. "You weren't laughing at my ass, were you? Because I happen to think I have a very nice ass." James was not the type to make such an assertion unless he had good grounds for it. It definitely made the top ten in asses that I'd seen. My friend Kris stopped giggling for a moment. "Oh, not at all." "Good. Because I have no shame." He paused in unpacking. "Here." He held up a pair of olive-green silk boxers a few inches from Kris' nose. "See? This is my underwear. I don't even remember your name, and I'm showing you my underwear. Dignity? What's that?" Kris laughed, and looked at me. "I think I'll leave you two alone now.." I nodded, and the two of us wished her goodbye. The door closed, and I was alone with James. Wow. After he finished unpacking, he hugged me most unexpectedly. "Thank you so much for making me come visit you.. It's exactly what I needed." There was that melting feeling again, like the two of us were blending into each other, like some artist was sketching all of this and had taken the eraser and gotten rid of the lines that separated the two of us. Pure perfection. "Oh, it was nothing.. Thank you for coming to visit me." He pulled back slightly, and plopped dramatically on to my bed. "Christ, I'm tired.. a day of flying, then 14 hours on a bus. When's breakfast? I'm starved." "Well, it's a weekend.. So we have brunch at 11:30." "Oh, god, that's three hours from now." He sighed, mumbling incoherently, and then laid so that his feet were propped up on my pillows and his head rested on the foot of my bed. "I think I'm going to take a nap... Come join me. There's plenty of room if you sleep normally." I reluctantly joined him. "All right.." I handed him a pillow, and laid down, one hand resting gently on his kneecap. It felt like my entire consciousness was poured into the palm of my hand, and rested there on his kneecap, feeling his skin, touching him. After a few moments, when we were both nearly asleep, he encircled his arm around my calf and began rubbing my leg gently. "Moira?" His voice was distant, as if he was talking in his sleep. "Yes?" It came out half-yawn as I began to drift off. "You really are beautiful." I smiled, and that's the last I remembered. At brunch, he entertained my friends quite well with his charm and caustic wit; after, my friend Kris asked us if we'd like to go roller-skating with her, of all things. James grinned. "That sounds like fun! Definitely. C'mon, Moira.." I looked at James carefully, and shot Kris a look. This whole idea irked me slightly; I wanted James to myself. Call me selfish, but.. And besides, there was another problem. I blushed lightly. "I don't think so. James can go if he likes, but.. Well, I've never been on a pair of roller skates in my life." "Come on! I'll teach you how to roller skate. Just come with us.." James took my hand in an attempt to lead me out the door. "I don't know.." I really did not like the idea of one of James' first impressions of me being me falling flat on my ass for a couple hours. He brought the hand he'd been holding to his lips, and kissed it with the utmost reverence. It sent a shock of electricity from my hand up my arm, and right behind my eyes, causing my vision to swim. "Please?" I heard myself answer. "All right." Amazingly, the few hours spent at the roller-skating rink went relatively without incident; I only fell once, and James was right there to help me up. It basically entailed two hours of him forcefully keeping his grip on my hand, making sure I wouldn't fall. I wasn't complaining. We caught an early dinner, and by 6 o'clock, he was crashed on my bed. I never knew he was a sprawler; he had, however, warned me that he snored when he was dead tired. I couldn't have slept if I wanted to, not with that racket. I slipped out of the room, turning off the lights, and went down the hall to take a shower in the community bathroom-most of the people in my school wish they had their own personal bathroom, but not me. I've never been a bath person, and the shower stalls were nice and big, plus the water pressure was incredible. I slipped out of my clothes, and turned the water on so hot it nearly cooked my skin-the kind of hot where the moment it hits your skin, the water knocks the wind out of you. My kind of shower. I found myself getting extremely turned on as I soaped my skin, and my scrubs turned into caresses. I could scarcely believe that the guy I had loved and lusted after for 7 months was lying, asleep and snoring, on my bed. I shaved my legs carefully, trimmed my pussy hair (I'd given up shaving it bare after reading it was bad for vaginal health), and washed my hair. I slipped into a short satin nightgown with a matching robe, and went back to my room. James was still asleep. I found this quite disappointing; this was the nicest nightgown I owned, the only one I had that was anywhere CLOSE to sexy, and he was still sprawled on my bed, snoring. I couldn't even join him, he'd sprawled so much. I carefully extracted a pillow from below his feet and sunk to the floor, leaning against the wall. I chuckled. What was it they said about the best laid plans? So, as corny as it may sound, I sat on the floor, looking up at this snoring, sprawling young man who had positioned himself in a way that was far more humorous than sexy... And for what seemed like only a few minutes, I was captivated by watching him sleep-but soon, those few minutes turned into a few hours, and the room was so dark I could barely discern his form. And then.. He started tossing, turning.. He'd told me he suffered from chronic nightmares before, but I had no idea how apropos the word 'suffered' was. He thrashed on the bed like a fish on a line getting jerked out of the water. I was paralyzed, I didn't know how to calm or comfort him, or even if I should or could wake him up. Finally, his torso leaped into the air, did a 180-degree flip, and he landed, eyes wide open, hands planted, as if he were about to do a pushup when something scared the hell out of him. I immediately sat on the side of the bed, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He turned over and looked at the room in fright and confusion. "Shhhhhh. You're visiting me, remember?" He looked up at me in the silent wonder of a child, and then closed his eyes, sighing deeply in relief, and rested his head gently on my shoulder. I stroked his hair, not knowing what else to do. "Want to talk about it?" This was a silly question-I must've asked him about his nightmares at least a dozen times before, and James was a very closed-off individual. He always answered very gruffly, telling me he didn't want to talk about it, or that he wasn't into "sharing," or something equally good at shutting me out. To my surprise, however, he pulled away from me, and leaning his head back against my wall, began to speak. "You know things have never been good in my family... We're really good at hurting each other. It's what we do. We love each other, don't get me wrong, but we're angry, loud, abrasive people. Arguments are really common in my house." He paused and looked at me. "Did I ever tell you about my father?" I blinked. "Not really, no." "My dad is JACKED. He's shorter than me, but damn.. He's buff. He was a general in the Army before he retired.. He makes me look like a scrawny little wuss." My eyes flickered appreciatively over James' body-James was a serious kickboxer, and an athletic nut. Needless to say, I was impressed. "Anyway.. When we were living in Germany, my dad had a couple of little strokes. He's the same as he's always been, it didn't affect his thought processes.. But the left half of his face is paralyzed. It's really hard to tell, though; if you didn't know, you wouldn't guess it. "So one day he and I were arguing-I don't even remember over what-and I guess he said something that really got to me, and I was fighting to keep my cool. He said, 'What, boy, are you gonna cry? Don't you HATE it when you're trying to act like a man and your face twitches and gives it all away? Are you going to start bawling like a baby?'" James took a deep breath. "I wanted to beat the holy hell out of him. I wanted to break that fucking nose of his.." He rubbed his hand over his face, over the bridge of his nose, and looked so very tired. I remembered him saying he looked quite a bit like his father, and I would not have been surprised if they had the same nose. "I wanted to. Maybe I should have." He looked at me, blankly and helplessly. "Instead, I said, 'At least my face CAN twitch, you freak.'" There was silence in the room for a while. I knew I must have winced. I couldn't help it. Soon, he started speaking again. "He just looked at me for a moment, cleared his throat, said 'G'night, son,' and walked out. That's what I dream about.. Except in the dream, I kill him." He gulped, and slunk down fully, until he was once again lying on my bed instead of sitting with his back on my wall. My hand was still on his shoulder. I took a deep breath. I wanted to comfort him so badly.. I loved him even more for his admission, and I didn't think he understood that. I didn't even think he knew I loved him; after all, we were just friends. Just.. friends.. I knew it was now or never; as usual when I get nervous, I heard myself speak. "Mind if I ask you a really silly question, hon?" James looked at me curiously. "Sure, Moira." I looked away for a moment. "Would you mind if I kissed you?" He chuckled, surprised that I had asked permission; surprised that I felt like kissing him too, I suspect. "Kiss me?" I looked at him, clearing my throat. Oh, crap. I didn't know that our first kiss would involve a discussion panel. It was his own damned fault for not kissing me earlier. "Well, yeah. 'Cause, you know, we're friends.. And I didn't want to surprise you and weird you out." He smiled softly and warmly, and I knew I was in the clear. "Somehow, I doubt that would 'Weird me out.'" I'd been waiting for this moment for months, and damned if I was going to screw it up. Closing my eyes, leaning down as his head yearned up.. I felt his breath on my face before I finally closed the last amount of distance. The kiss started tentatively, the simple brushing of lip on lip, reveling in the feeling of a dream realized, an intense longing fulfilled. And then, tentatively, I painted his lower lip lightly with my tongue, and as if it had been knocking on a door, his mouth opened up to me. I don't know how to describe the tentative exploration, the tightly-leashed passion, the breathless innocent desire that was contained in that one bare kiss. I loved him, and I knew he had opened a place so vulnerable and deep to me, that he had shown a part of himself that he thought ugly and human, knowing there was a chance I might hurt him. I didn't have words for that; that's why I kissed him. That kiss, I suppose, was where I explained it to him-bathing his tongue with my own, I whispered to him that I would take care of him; running my tongue along the sharp points of his teeth, I murmured that I knew he had the power to hurt me, and I didn't care. As my hands gently traveled the surface of his neck and shoulders, I worshipped him. I was never good at being vulnerable; that kiss was the best I could do. Fortunately, he accepted it. He slowly sat up, while continuing the kiss, and then bent over me, replying to every single syllable my body had spoken in kind. His hand parted my robe, feather-light, and slipped in delicate disbelief over my round, satin-covered breast. I didn't spend the time in a dazed disbelief that this was happening, as one might expect; I wasn't really thinking, just reacting. It was a matter of moments before my nipple was pressing insistently against the palm of his hand, and slipping the robe off of my shoulder completely, James trailed his kiss from my jawbone down the side of my neck. I let out a soft, purring sigh, and he slipped the thin strap of my nightgown from my shoulder to my elbow, lifting one of my heavy breasts from my ribcage and reverently sucking the nipple between his lips, eyes fixed on mine unswervingly, much like the first time he kissed my hand. Instinctively, I arched my back and moaned. Slowly, his lips began to devour more of my breast-my aureoles are oddly large, bigger than silver-dollars and almost a starburst shape, but before long, the entirety of it was hidden beneath his lips as he gently prodded and caressed with his tongue, occasionally nibbling my nipple, which was more erect than I'd ever seen it before. I began caressing his ribs, and as he stroked my other, satin-covered breast with one hand, his other hand slowly slipped down, below my nightgown, and into the dark, warm area between my legs. When he felt how wet I was, and I felt his touch where I had been longing for it for so long, we moaned like one together, a perfect harmony. He just gently caressed the inside portion of my pussy lips, running his fingertips over my clit and around my opening. Finally he moved his lips back to my mouth, and the cold air hitting my wet breast shocked my nerve endings as I moaned into his mouth. He withdrew his fingers from between my legs, broke the kiss, and rolled on to his back with a sigh. "THAT blew my mind." He turned on his side, and rested his face on his hand-then realized it was wet with pussy juice. He tasted his hand and moaned. "Christ, the first night I'm here.." He shook his head and looked at me. "I need to masturbate." I blinked at him. Note for the males reading this: when there's a half-naked, fully-willing woman in the bed with you, expressing a need to masturbate is something that will most likely puzzle said woman. "I'm sorry.. What?" "I need to masturbate. I thought you said you liked watching that sort of thing?" Then it hit me. I'd never actually seen a man masturbate before, but the idea of it was a very big turn-on to me. James was offering to masturbate in front of me.. And to be honest, as turned on as I was, and as much as I loved him, the idea of throwing him to the ground and fucking him sweaty was still slightly beyond my comfort zone. "Definitely." He stood for a moment, slipping off his boxers, and then kneeled, naked, on my bed. I tried not to stare at his cock, but I did give it a few appreciative glances. It wasn't particularly large or small; I'd seen longer, and I'd seen shorter. Since he kickboxed, the majority of his hair was shaved away, leaving his cock and balls exposed. It was a lovely sight. Bestowing on me a wry smile, he started to instruct me on the finer points of male masturbation. "First of all," he said, licking his hand, "anyone who tells you a dry jerk-off doesn't hurt is a liar." I couldn't resist. I knew that jacking off was usually a solo activity for men, but even the anticipation of witnessing such an intimate act was turning me on. I gently but firmly took his wrist in my hand and pulled it away from his mouth, and licked it, slowly and thoroughly, my eyes on his. The moment my tongue touched the palm of his hand, he took a sharp intake of breath which was exhaled in something akin to a growl; I could feel where his hand was already damp from his own saliva, and traced those places, allowing the moisture to mix in some sort of communion. He watched me with a look of undisguised amaze and lust as I gently, thoroughly painted his palm with the flat of my tongue. And then, I gently sucked his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, bobbing my head lightly. "Oh, god, Moira.." Slowly and methodically, I sucked each of his fingers as if they were small cocks-running the tip of my tongue along the nail, kneading the knuckle insistently between the roof of my mouth and my tongue, before slowly withdrawing it from my mouth while still sucking on it. I smiled impishly at him. "Better?" In reply, his hand gravitated to his cock as if by some magnetic pull. Wrapping his hand around the shaft tightly, he began moving it slowly and methodically from his balls to his tip, running his thumb over the head before moving back down. As his hand began to pick up speed, I began to get extremely wet just from watching him. Watching James stroke his cock hard was driving me crazy; I decided to see exactly how I could make him even hotter. Sitting behind him on the bed, I began to plant feather-light kisses on the back of his neck, lightly running the tips of my fingernails over his neck and shoulders. Trailing my kisses wetly to his sensitive earlobe, I gently sucked it into my mouth and began massaging it with my teeth. Emitting a low moan, James' hand began moving faster and harder, and I then planted my well-manicured, oval fingernails on the base of his neck and dragged them down the shaft of his spine. He moaned, squeezing his balls with his free hand. His hand moved faster and faster, and I was absolutely amazed at the speed in which it moved over his shaft. He squeezed his balls in a rhythm now, and was moaning, growling, and sighing like a man possessed. It was the single most erotic cacophony I'd ever heard. I traced my tongue along his collarbone before a realization hit me: when I asked James if he liked having his nipples sucked, he said no one had ever tried it. I know that, for some guys, it does nothing; for others, it's a turn-off because they acquaint it with something effeminate. I thought this would be as good a time as any to find out, and reaching around his warm body, I fastened my lips to his nipple. "AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHH!" He moved his hand from its place squeezing his balls and forcibly pressed the back of my head closer to him. I took the fact that he nearly broke my nose against his sternum as a good sign, and sucked with fervor. "Oh, God yes.. Harder.. HARDER.." He was speaking through clenched teeth. Helpless, I obeyed, fighting to maneuver my head in such a way that I could once again breathe. There was a pause when his labored breathing stopped, and then-well, the sound he emitted was impossible to describe. I can only imagine it was something akin to the mating call of a cougar. I remembered my neighbors, and quickly placed my mouth on his, crushing it in a searing kiss to muffle the sound as his cum shot onto his abdomen and began dripping down. Good Things Come...Ch. 2 He moved his legs out from under him, and lay on his back. Wordlessly, I took a washcloth that I keep in a bowl of cedar-scented water on my dresser and carefully washed his flat stomach. He smiled at me, and hooking his fingers over the neckline of my nightgown, pulled me down for a gentle kiss. "You are amazing." I blushed in the dark, and put the washcloth in my laundry bag. I returned to the bed and smiled wryly. "I know you said you'd need a night of sleeping on the floor to adjust, but.." We both laughed; neither one of us had expected what had happened tonight. "If it's all the same to you, Moira, there's no place in the world I'd rather sleep tonight than next to you." The smile that spread across my face could not have been stopped for all the world. He turned around, and lay next to me, a hand cupping my left breast idly. "Good night, James." "Good night, hon." Of everything that night.. Of that first kiss, of the intense sexual passion.. Drifting off to sleep with him was my favorite part of the evening. Our slumber was blessedly dreamless; the calm before a Halloween tempest that would change both of us with the wind... To Be Continued... Good Things Come...Ch. 3 Part III: All Hallow's Eve It was one of those nights when we were invincible; youth was immortal and anyone over the age of twenty-one could go fuck themselves. It was, in a word, everything that one's eighteenth Halloween should be. The power went off about 8:30, plunging the entire campus of my small college into darkness. The wind bucked and howled and thrashed the trees like nothing I had ever seen-and after living for so long in the windiest spot in the States, I was no stranger to the wind. After sitting for a while in the darkness that seemed strangely apropos, the object of my affliction, James, turned to me with a heathen smile. "I've gotta go enjoy this wind." That was all I needed to hear. We flew up the stairs like the wind itself, and each grabbed our respective trenchcoats-mine a pewter-colored vinyl, his, black leather. Then we slipped into the night, and it began. He laughed harshly and shouted into the sky, taunts tossed to a God he refused to formally believe in, egging Him on. "What you got, God?" His voice bellowed loud enough for me to hear it over the screaming wind. "All you're doing is making me look good." And James did, indeed; he looked invincible, the wind keening around us as his trenchcoat billowed black into a night devoid of any light save the celestial... and the spark in James' eye. I knew at this moment there was more to his beliefs than the atheism he had informed me of one night a few months ago, the night I told him of my love for God. "I'll be around longer than you will, God! I have everything!" He laughed, nearly giddy as a child. He was youth incarnate: a carpe-diem Adonis mouthing the words that have come for centuries, whether whispered in the back of young minds or screamed into the blackest wind. "I have YOUTH! I have LOOKS! What you got, God? You show me one thing tonight that impresses me, and I'll go pray for ya." I prayed. God didn't show him... But He showed me things I'll never forget.. Things about myself, whispered into a wind so strong that none could stand in it but we two. I am an extremely devout Christian, but even a fact such as that seemed irrelevant with my trenchcoat flapping and the dirt stinging my eyes, with my sacrilegious beloved next to me, shouting lines from Invictus, as if calling in a cosmic poker hand. After all, I, too, was young. It was so easy to forget at times.. But at other times, so easy to remember. "It matters not how straight the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll:" His pale index finger thrust into the sky as he emphasized certain words. I'd never heard his voice so loud and ferocious, never heard such a determined tone. He emphasized each syllable violently and with the utmost care, as if he wanted to make sure that any who listened understood exactly what he meant. "I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul." I wanted to laugh and cry and scream with him. And God, it felt good. I turned and kissed him then, a primal impulse as our coats flapped in deafening percussion and the wind whipped our faces. His arms encompassed me tightly, and I could feel the cold brick beneath our feet. We clung to each other, holding on tightly enough to keep the wind from escorting the two of us away, James and I, the sinner and the saint. To my surprise, his hand immediately moved to my pussy, no precursory groping. Earlier that night, we had decided to dress in all black to herald the holiday; my form of dress- a super-short, low-cut black dress that, when held to the light, was practically transparent, fishnets, and high-heeled black boots-far different and more daring than my usual attire. For this reason, I was far more accessible than usual. Standing in the pitch-blackness, on the cold walkway directly in front of the administration building, a couple hundred yards from the largest parking lot on the campus, he slipped his hand beneath the legband of my underwear and moved his thumb directly to my silken clit. I moaned. "James.. For crying out loud, we're standing in the middle of the sidewalk.." He trailed his tongue up my jawline, tracing my earlobe before biting on it gently. "I know. Isn't it great?" He slipped his middle finger deep into my pussy, rubbing my walls gently but insistently. I parted my legs to give him better access; I knew the streetlamps could come on at any second, but I didn't care. The wind stinging our faces, throwing dirt in our eyes, the high-pitched keening shriek of nature was one of the most intense aphrodisiacs I'd ever known. He twisted his thumb, pressing it hard against my clit, and pressed his middle finger deep into me, pressing against the top of my pussy wall as if he were trying to touch it to his thumb. The avalanche of sensory feelings overcame me-the feeling of his ministrations to my pussy and the wind on our faces, the sounds of the possessed wind, the pitch darkness. I cried out, and my cum bathed his hand in the darkness. I couldn't help but do something very non-me: I removed his hand from my underwear, dropped to my knees on the freezing brick cobblestone, and unzipped his fly. This time-and I blush to admit I found it amusing, fitting, and erotic all at the same time-James was the one exhibiting a bit of apprehension. He looked around anxiously as I took his cock from his pants. "I.. I'm not sure about this, Moir-" His apprehension melted as I moved my mouth to the hilt of his cock in one single, tight, sucking motion. Without moving my lips, I did my best to swirl and massage my tongue along the length of his shaft. His head tilted back as his neck went limp, and he moaned, a wonderful, deep sound from the bowels of the earth that was barely discernable in the tempest surrounding us. My hands slipped to his hips as I guided him back and forth in my mouth, baptizing his cock with my saliva and my tears, which were nearly ripped away in the windstorm around us. I stopped for a moment, carefully and reverently shielding his sensitive cock from the flying dirt and rock with my trenchcoat. I looked up at him, bleary-eyed and devoted, much the way a newly-saved sinner will look up at the cross in awe and reverence. I knew I was worshipping James, and I didn't care. I'd been worshipping him from an aching distance for so long; my sin meant nothing as long as he was here with me. I spoke in such a small voice I was surprised it even reached his ears. "James?" He looked down at me, black eyes sparking. It looked almost as if his eyes were a part of the amazingly black sky, or perhaps it was the skies that had taken its cue from the beautiful dark orbs set in the face I loved. His gaze was intense, longing, and I relished in it. "Yes, petite?" I moved my lips centimeters closer to his head; me, the innocent, the perpetual virgin, the quintessential "good girl," me, who had never dressed like this in my life and whose lips were a few inches away from the cock of the only person I had ever met who held such disdain for the one Being I held dear. I gulped and stared up at him, helpless, licking my lips. "I want you to fuck my face." Words I never thought I would hear myself say, not spoken with the purring liquid confidence of an experienced cocksucker, but with the timid, shy uncertainty of a child just beginning to wake up to the world. For all of the lust being wordlessly communicated between us, he blinked, every bit as surprised by hearing my request as I was. He smiled softly and warmly, caressing the back of my head gently. His gaze could only be described as loving, and he seemed proud of me. I smiled back, feeling a bit proud myself. "Of course, love." My hands remained firmly gripping his hips as he pushed his cock into my mouth, though I had given him complete control. He knew my inexperience in this area, and so he started slowly, to allow me to get used to the feeling. As he pulled out slightly, I followed the motion with my tongue pressing on his head, then slipping to the sensitive underside for a single, quick flick with the tip of my tongue. For the first time in my life, I tasted the salty sweetness of precum; before this time, I had never even allowed that into my pure little mouth. I liked the taste; I loved the fact that it came from James. I felt as if I were taking communion. It was one of the most spiritual things I had experienced in my life. I thought I heard a growling sigh from somewhere in the heavens above me, but it was ripped from his beloved lips before completion by the selfish wind, devouring his sighs of pleasure with the same hunger I felt deep within me, creating a heat between my legs even in the freezing cold. He began to really fuck my face, pumping insistently, with an increased sense of urgency and an increased need. I held on to his hips for dear life, and willed my neck to stay still. The head of his engorged cock began sliding right beyond my epiglottis, and every time it did so, I gagged slightly-which, by marvelous serendipity, caused my throat muscles to contract tightly on the area right behind his head. He tilted his head back and howled, one with the wind, and pulled out of my mouth, and not even an inch from my eyes, his cock convulsed, and I watched as cum spurted out of him, a stream of liquid, ivory satin, of milky moonlight arching and splattering to the dark brick. I watched it, mesmerized. It was one of the most beautiful sights I had ever seen. He paused for a moment before returning his cock to his pants, and his breath began to come normally, as well. I stayed on my knees, looking away from him, uncertain.. Until he offered me a gentle and warm hand, helping me to my feet. He shyly moved his hand around my waist and kissed me with a beautiful innocence, as if I had never been his lover. Soon though, the moment was gone and our walk continued, as did the dialogue between my love and my Lord. There were times in James' running argument with God when he would tell me to stay while he would walk away by himself for a few moments, and, as a good and obedient (sidekick audience observer sister lover) friend should do (forgetting, of course, the implications of being an accessory to second-degree heresy), I stood, wrapping my trenchcoat tightly around my shivering frame, to watch. He always raised his arms above him, as if in supplication, yet his attitude spoke that he didn't expect a damn thing. At one of these tiriades he disappeared from view for a moment, black form fading into the black of night, Dazedly, I half-wondered if God might have exacted retribution by sweeping him into the relentless wind, but he returned, the last bit of his speech reaching my ears. "I am the Accolade, God, and whatever I want-" he took my chin roughly and firmly in my hands, a grip so strong I would not have been able to look away if I wished it. I was trapped into staring into those consuming black holes, set in a fallen angel face. "I take." He kissed me again, in defiance, his tongue completely dominating my mouth. The wind had been whipping our faces for a long while, and I could taste the grit and dust from his lips and tongue... Or perhaps it was from mine. And again, the moment vanished. And again, we walked. We walked for a bit in silence, and I pondered the possibility that-for that last, rough kiss-I had been used; I was wholly and devoutly Christian, as well he knew.. Never mind my position firmly at his side (or on my knees) through all of this. It seemed as though the kiss did not stem from his feelings for me but from his feelings for a non-existent Deity. Regardless, I matched him step for step, and never felt closer to him in my life. The walk and tirade ended soon after, and we returned to the bland indoors. We amused ourselves with candles and the tentative exploration of our bodies until the power came back on around one in the morning, and the spell was broken. He eventually drifted into unconsciousness with an arm draped protectively over my chest as I stared at the ceiling, remembering-though when we awoke, it seemed the night had never happened, had been no more than a vision Morpheus had sent me on the wind. I am still quite Christian, though a part of me wonders if I should have left him that night.. And the rest of me thanks God Himself that I did not. But I will always remember being immortal with him in that fist kiss, clinging and primal, preserved forever like butterflies in amber by the screaming wind... Locked in embrace, the pagan stars blessing us. Good Things Come.. Ch. 4 Good Things Come To An End Chapter 4: Departure I did my best that day; I knew it would be difficult beyond words for me, but I was determined to not make an idiot out of myself. James would be leaving early the next morning, and this would be my last day with him. No man in my life had ever affected me the way James did, and I knew it would be the hardest thing in the world for me to say goodbye. He looked at me strangely most of the day, his glance one of confusion and amusement during the times when he would catch me studying him with a studious intensity. If I could not keep him with me, then my only other wish was to remember. I'd never been someone to need anything, and James knew that.. I could not help but wonder if he realized that I found myself needing him. I had rehearsal for a play I was in that night, and so James decided to amuse himself by going and watching a movie with some friends he had made-a group of guys whom I'd seen, but didn't really know all that well. Before we both left each other to our own devices for that night, we kissed quickly and simply and began going in separate directions down the hall. I couldn't help it; when he was two steps away from me I turned him back to face me and crushed him in a hug. He laughed, his voice warm and dark, and kissed me on the nose. "Go, Moira. I'll see you soon." I smiled brightly, feeling childlike. "Promise?" Something changed in his smile, and I knew he saw beyond the childlike façade to the woman within, her vulnerabilities, her need. I blushed, and he gently brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. "Promise." With a last kiss on my forehead, he turned and walked away. I stood, watching him until he turned a corner and could no longer be seen. I couldn't concentrate during rehearsal, and when it was over, I walked back to my dorm room with a certain lightness in my step, taking the exact path I had taken with him the first day I lead him to my room, after picking him up at the bus station. Before I entered the building, I looked up at my lighted window, curtain drawn shut. For those of you who have not experienced it, I doubt there are many things better than the first time you know you're coming home to someone you love. I opened my door, and went in.. My face fell immediately when I realized my room was empty. James had yet to return. I looked at the clock: 11:19. We had left my room at 7:30; I was sure a movie wouldn't take that long. I loved that my friends became his friends, and that he felt at home in my life.. But it hurt that I had to share him so much on his last day with me. Struggling to contain my sadness, I grabbed shampoo, conditioner, towel, and a change of clothes, deciding to take a shower. Stripping slowly, I allowed the water in the shower to run. Soon, steam was pouring out of my empty stall. Finally naked, I stepped in, bracing myself. The water knocked the breath out of me, as did the humidity; I was surrounded in a warm, wet world. Reaching for my liquid soap, I squirted some into my hand and began massaging it into my collarbone, chest, and breasts. The warm, spicy scent of patchouli and vanilla soon arose to my nostrils, and I closed my eyes, sighing, reveling in each of my senses. For a moment, I leaned against the now-warm tile of the shower stall, closing my eyes, allowing the intense water pressure to beat into my skin, filling my pores, battering my body. This entire week had taken so much out of me, then put it back.. Just to take it away a final time. I spread my arms, pressing them against the wall of the shower, almost in a position of crucifixion, and turned my head so that my burning cheek was pressed against the cooler tile. I wanted the water to purify me, to wash away my pain and confusion and, yes, my desire for James. I knew that dawn would crush me because my desire was so great, and a part of me would have done anything to remove the pain I knew would come.. Even if it meant taking my desire. Ironically, as I was thinking these thoughts, the heat and the water pressure and the spicy-sweet scent of my soap were all doing their best not to curb my desire, but to further it. I continued to massage the liquid soap into my breasts, my nipples already stiff and responsive to my touch. I pinched them softly and sighed. Moving only slightly, a hot, powerful spray of water from the showerhead concentrated on my clit. I moaned quietly, slowly dragging the palms of my hands all over my body, massaging the soft suds across my smooth, slippery skin. It was only a matter of moments until my orgasm hit me, and I did my best to keep my knees from collapsing under me. Bracing my arm against the wall, I stood under the showerhead, eyes closed, panting for breath, begging myself quietly for sanity. It was one of the more intense orgasms I had ever experienced. I still wanted James. I rinsed the spicy warmth of the suds from my body, along with my wetness, and carefully washed my hair, finishing my usual shower ministrations of self-care. I gently toweled off my sensitive skin, which now had a distinct rose-quartz flush to its normally pale surface, and slipped into a pair of baggy navy shorts-I decided to forego panties- and a white, cropped T-shirt that barely covered the bottoms of my breasts. I gathered my showering supplies and, gently toweling my hair, returned to my room. It was still empty. I sighed deeply, fighting back tears, and began putting my shampoo and conditioner away, tossing my dirty clothes into the laundry bag, and grabbed my toothbrush, returning to the bathroom to give them a good scrubbing. When I returned.. Still no James. Dammit. As I was putting my toothbrush away and getting ready to slip into bed, James came in, no knocking. I liked the fact he didn't knock; I wanted him to feel like this was OUR room, like he was more than a visitor to it. "Moira, where were you, hon?" I blinked. "I was about to ask you the same thing." "I thought after rehearsal you were going to stop by and catch a movie with us." "I don't even know the guys' room number, sweetie. You didn't tell me you wanted me to crash the party.. I was about to go to bed." He hugged me, and I could easily feel his swollen cock against his khakis. "Of COURSE I did. I missed you." "What movies did you watch?" I stretched and curled up in bed while he stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes to the foot of the bed. Climbing over me, he got into the side of the bed nearest the wall-to protect me from any spider attacks that might happen (we had found a spider on my windowsill, and I'm deathly afraid), and because he liked being closest to the heater. I reached up, flipping off the light. He faced away from me, and I turned to watch his back, my hand laying gently on his waist. "The Matrix.. And then the guys watched a porno." I chuckled. "And you wanted me there for that?" "It would have made things a hell of a lot easier on me." "What do you mean?" He took my hand from his waist and guided it directly to his swollen cock. Thus began one of the most wonderful, bittersweet sexual interludes of my life. I knew he would be leaving the next day, and that this.. Would be it. This would be my last moments with him, my last chance to touch him, to please him, to show him my love for months, maybe years. Maybe I'd never see him again. Tomorrow, I would fight back tears from the moment we awoke. Tonight, I massaged his cock gently but firmly. He rolled onto his back from his side. Tomorrow, I would spend the every moment from the time we woke up to the time we said goodbye wanting one more tender, passionate kiss, and he would finally give me a gentle, lingering peck on the lips in parting. Tonight, he let the kiss build.. A gentle exploration, soon blossoming to an intense and intricate ballet of lips, teeth, and tongue. My hand worked up and down the shaft, not tugging, but simply caressing, massaging. The kiss finally broke, but the spell did not. Tomorrow, I would come back from the bus station and lock my door, stripping naked and putting on the button-down dress shirt he had forgotten here, and cry uncontrollable, wailing tears until I passed out and into a gluey, blessedly dreamless sleep. Tonight, I carelessly tossed that same shirt from its place on the foot of the bed into a corner on the floor, and gently began to trace my tongue along the joints of James' thighs, fingertips lightly running along his ribcage. I traced the tip of my tongue from the very base of his shaft, up along the delicate underside of his head to the very tip, running it across and then in gentle circles, before again trailing my tongue back down along the side. James moaned, watching me, losing his fingers in my long black hair. "Yes.. That's it.. My body is yours. Do with it what you want." Intriguing words. A thought came to me; I slipped off of the bed for a moment. "All right." He looked at me, utterly baffled, until I returned-with a ropelike belt that belonged to a dress of mine. He smiled and sighed. "Please.. Bind my wrists." I did as he asked; loosely enough to keep from hurting him, but firmly enough to do the job. I once again began my ministrations on his cock, licking the entirety of the shaft, teasing his head with the tip of my tongue, and swallowing it quickly without warning, creating a tight seal all around it, sucking as I slowly dragged my lips from the base back up to the head. He writhed on the bed in a way that was almost reminiscent of his first night here, when he had his nightmare; but this time, his murmurs were of lust and not of fear. Tomorrow, James would laugh good-naturedly in the morning when he caught me with tears in my eyes and say, "I'm not going anywhere yet." Tonight, he laid stock-still save for the hard rise and fall of his chest with his labored breathing as I moved my mouth away from his cock and drug my body forward, attaching my lips to his nipple as I carefully ground my clit against the head of his cock. I leaned forward and fastened my lips to his nipple, running my tongue along it, taking it carefully between my teeth, surrounded in my own personal paradise as I listened to his moans, sucking in time on his nipple to the rhythm in which I ground my clit into the head. Removing my lips from his nipple, I moved my face mere centimeters from his. He strained forward, longing to kiss me passionately, and I granted him a few butterfly kisses, feather-light and fleeting. I whispered as my eyes smiled mischievously into his. "What do you want? Tell me, it's yours." He panted, completely surrendered. It was the only time in the ages I had known him that he had ever given up control of himself. "I want to shove you down and fuck your brains out, how does that sound?" I chuckled. "I didn't ask what you wanted to DO. Your job is to sit back and enjoy. I asked what you WANTED." He slumped more into the bed, and closed his eyes for a moment. "I've always wanted to see a woman masturbate." THIS was something I hadn't expected. "You've never seen a woman masturbate?" "Oh, I've seen it, but they never did it for very long.. Too shy. I want to see a woman cum by herself." I blinked. You know how most women are; they rarely admit to masturbating, and the idea of doing it in FRONT of someone? Practically unthinkable.. Which was probably one of the reasons why James, with all of his expertise, had not run into many volunteers. There was a long pause; I was beyond shy. But finally, a decision came.. Screw it. Or rather, screw myself. Tomorrow, I would bring myself to orgasm thinking of him while my face was still wet with tears; tonight, I spread my labia and caressed my clit while my face was flushed with lust. I had always been so innocent, so pure, and here I was-performing for him. Showing off. Letting him see places inside of me, emotionally and physically, I had never shown another person. I slid a finger into my pussy while my thumb continued to caress my clit, closing my eyes and tossing my head back, feeling the whisper of my long skeins of black hair caressing the small of my back. I felt alive. I felt beautiful. I felt like the prophet Jeremiah, with fire shut up in my bones.. Until release. To this day I'm not sure if it was an orgasm or an out-of-body experience; to be honest, I don't really care. I buckled forward on him, beads of sweat from my forehead finding their home on his body, trickling through the ravines of his well-chisled abdomen. In the silence, the sound of our panting breath was deafening, and we breathed as one. Eventually our breathing slowed, and James reached up to caress my damp cheek with a cool hand. "God, you're beautiful." I blushed, and somehow finding a new wellspring of courage, I looked in his eyes. I felt like a child, but I gazed upon his face with eyes black and bright for a long moment before finally stating my acquiescence. "You've been good, James," I yearned forward, nimble fingers untying his wrists. "And because of it, I will do whatever you wish." My lashes longed to lower demurely, to show some typical sign of female submission, but I refused to let them. I was sheltered, I was a virgin, I knew all the things I had allowed myself to be opened to and I wanted him to see that knowledge in my eyes. And he looked at me for what seemed like an eternity before finally reaching up to me and tug on a renegade lock of hair. "I want to cum in your mouth." I blinked a few times and allowed the simple sentence to register. James and I had talked about it many times, late at night; I told him I had never found a man that I trusted enough to allow to cum in my mouth. He thought that was one of the strangest things he'd ever heard; he'd talked to women who loved or hated the taste, but I was the first one he had come across who found it to be a matter of trust. But it had always seemed a massively intimate act to me-- even more so than sex-- that I had never allowed the few men I had gone down on that particular privilege. In this case, I nodded, a faint smile kissing my lips. "All right." Wordlessly he moved me like a rag doll, changing places with me so that now I was lying on my back and he was straddling me. I expected him to want a blowjob, but instead he merely began to stroke his cock inches away from my face. I watched in fascination, staring at the rhythmic motion of his hand slowly increasing, the slick sliding noise lulling me deep into thought. He wasn't after oral pleasure.. He understood finally what I thought of accepting a man's ejaculate to nourish my body. He wanted to share a blasphemous, sacred, sexual communion. I was overjoyed. It didn't take him long; the past few hours had been too much for him, and soon his hand was a blur on his lovely shaft. Ropes of cum poured from his cock to spill onto my lips and down my throat. A sample of the land of milk and honey. Finally, I was satiated. He kissed me serenely, whispered something in my ear, and we fell asleep in each other's arms. Tomorrow, I would tell him I loved him.. And he would look at me strangely, as if he had never seen me before, and chuckle before walking onto his bus without a word in return. But tonight.. Tonight I was beautiful. James had told me so. When I think back on that night, years and years ago, I am still beautiful. I am forever in that bus station, silently awaiting his reply that has yet to come. They say good things come to those who wait... And so I wait. Alone. --- Author's note: I realize the first three sections of this story were posted over a year ago. To this day I get E-mails asking for a proper conclusion to the story of James and Moira; I was reluctant to write it, because I knew it would not have a happy ending. I do hope, however, that those who read it are satisfied. Thank you for your patience.